“You’ve got five minutes.” I turn around with my hands still pressed against the counter behind me—bracing myself. Her hair is shorter than the last time I saw her, the only other time I’ve seen her. Honey brown with a hot pink streak in the front. Same chocolate brown eyes as her sister. Same high cheekbones and same look of plea. She’s much shorter than Gemma. Can’t be taller than five-foot-three. She’s also six years younger than Gemma, with the fashion sense of a sixteen-year-old girl. Crop top, miniskirt that barely covers her ass, and heels that add some extra height.
Pulling a chair out at the small round table, she makes herself far too comfortable for only five minutes. “Listen, I know I should have been here, but I just couldn’t face everything going on. I had to deal with Gemma’s death in my own way.”
“And your own way meant not even attending her funeral? Not answering the calls of her only living relative?” I raise my voice. “Your only living relative.”
“Yes. Selfishly, yes. That’s exactly what I mean. Life hasn’t been easy for me—”
“Stop right there.” I cut her off. “Don’t even try and make this about you. Rowan, you should have fucking been there. Gemma practically raised you growing up, and you don’t even have the decency to attend her funeral. Even after your aunt and I offered to pay for the trip?” My head sways back and forth in disappointment. “You wouldn’t know that, though. You probably didn’t even listen to the dozen voicemails we left for you.”
“As a matter of fact, I did listen to them.” She jumps up and steps directly in front of me. Taking her voice up a few octaves, she continues, “But who the hell are you to try and tell me what I should have done differently? You don’t know me. Hell, you barely knew my sister before you slipped your dick in her and put a ring on her finger.”
My expression makes no attempt at hiding how taken aback I am by her outburst. “Get the fuck out of my house.” It’s all I can say. It’s all I really want. I point at the back door. “Get out!”
“Whoa, everything all right in here?” Grant rounds the corner with Grinch’s head in his hand and walks into the kitchen. His eyes dance from me to Rowan, and back to me.
“Everything is fine. She was just leaving.” I look Rowan dead in the eye. “Weren’t you?”
“No. Actually, I just got here and I’m not leaving until I get what I came for.”
Closing my eyes, I take in a deep breath, opening them on the drawn out exhale. “You need money?” I grab my wallet off the counter next to my keys. “How much? I’ll give you whatever you want if you go back to Vegas and continue to live your life like no one else exists.”
Slapping the wallet out of my hand, she huffs. “I don’t want your money.”
Grant snickers behind her and points his thumb over his shoulder. “I’m just gonna grab some candy and go. Gwen can wait and see Grinch next year when he’s less grinchy.”
Brushing my shoulder against Rowan’s, I walk past her. “Nope. I’m not sweating my balls off in this suit for nothing. Gwen wants Grinch, that’s what she’s getting.” I snatch the mask out of his hands and toss it on my head.
Emerson and Gwen are standing at the front of the line of kids at the door. I notice a few walking back down the driveway. They must’ve gotten impatient.
“Hello there, little girl. I hear you want some candy from the Grinch.” I kneel down in front of Gwen, who is trying to shield her face with her mom’s leg. “Let me guess, you’re supposed to be a butterfly?” She’s clearly a ladybug, but it makes her giggle.
Stepping from behind Emerson, she comes closer. “No, Grinch. I’m a waaady-bug. Can I touch your hairy face?”
“Of course. Go ahead and give the top of my head a scratch. Grinch likes that.” I lean forward and tilt my head down.
Her tiny little fingers begin scratching my head as she laughs. “I know it’s you, Uncle Nash.”
Emerson begins handing out candy to the kids at the door, but stops when her eyes set on something behind me. I turn around and see Rowan standing there with her arms crossed as she leans into the doorframe to the kitchen. Her expression has changed from callous to kind, but credit isn’t given to me, it’s because of the cutie pie scratching my head.
“Auntie Gemma.” Gwen shrieks in excitement. “I like your pink hair.”
“No, no, honey. That isn’t Auntie Gemma.” Emerson kneels down next to us. “Remember what we talked about. Auntie Gemma is with the angels now.”
I can see how a three-year-old could be confused. Aside from the obvious difference in features, Gemma and Rowan look very similar.
“Hi, sweetie, what’s your name?” Rowan says as she approaches. I stand up and take a step back.
“I’m Gwen. What’s your name?” Gwen extends her hand so politely.
“My name is Rowan. I’m Gemma’s sister.”
“Can I call you Auntie Rowan?”
I interrupt their conversation, “No, honey, her name is just Rowan.”
“We should probably go now,” Grant voices as he takes ahold of Gwen’s hand. “Thanks, Nash. We’ll catch up later.” He looks back and forth from me to Rowan, as if he’s itching to get the scoop on what she’s doing here.
“Have a happy Halloween.” I dig both of my hands into the bowl of candy and scoop out half of the contents, dropping them into Gwen’s bag. “Don’t you eat all of that in one night.”
She sticks her hand inside the bag and pulls out a candy bar. “Here, Rowan, this one is for you.”
“Thank you so much. These happen to be my favorites.”
A smile grows even wider across Gwen’s face before she turns around and walks out the door with her mom and dad.
Filling my lungs, I draw in a deep breath before turning around. “Okay.” I cross my arms over my chest, “Let’s get this over with. If you’re not here for money, what do you want?”
“Gemma’s journal,” she responds point-blank.
Scowling, I drop down on the couch that sits in the middle of the living room. “Journal? Gemma didn’t have a journal.”
“Actually yes, she did. And she wants me to have it.”
“I would know if Gemma was writing in a journal. We told each other everything.” Kicking my feet up on the table, I stretch my arms behind my head and realize I’m sitting here arguing while still sporting the Grinch mask over my head. Pulling it off, I toss it next to me on the couch. “Besides, she would have said something in the note she left me.”
“You got a note?” she asks, surprised.
“Why do you act so shocked? It’s not uncommon for someone to leave behind a note before they take their life.”
“I’m not shocked. I just didn’t realize you got one, too.”
My eyes shoot to hers. “Too?”
“Yeah.” She reaches into her black cross body purse and pulls out a folded piece of paper. “I got one, too.”
I sprint from the couch and attempt to swipe the letter out of her and. “Let me see that.”
She pulls back and watches the confusion sweep over my face. “No. This is personal and what she had to say to me is none of your business.”