I listened to my brother’s sick, twisted, fucked-up voicemail and when I got the beep, I launched in.
“Four months ago, you lost a father. That had nothing to do with your behavior. Today, you lost a sister. And that’s all on you,” I spat into my phone, eyes now not to the calming view but my feet. “I know you’re going after Dad’s collection and you know that’s not right. You know that, Mav. You know. Since you’ve been born you’ve treated Dad like shit and didn’t give me much better. Thinking you’re entitled to what, I do not get. You had his love. He believed in you. He gave you that all the time and you threw it in his face. You did the same to me. And today, I’m done. Thanks. Thanks so much, Mav. I’m grieving Dad and now I’m grieving you. All this goes down and you and your mother go down with it, do not ever try to contact me again. Today, I lost a brother. Today, you cease to exist.”
With that, I tore the phone from my ear, looked down at it while I stabbed at the screen to disconnect and I stayed there, frozen, staring at my phone, seeing I was shaking and doing it violently.
Shit happened. People twisted things. Other people believed them.
Mr. T said that Dad’s will was ironclad. Maverick and Luna would not get what they wanted and Luna had laid a trail of vicious greed for years that any attorney could pick up and any judge would see through.
But shit happened.
I didn’t care about the money.
I cared about Dana and her being safe and comfortable because Dad would have wanted it that way.
But I didn’t care about the money.
I cared about those guitars.
They were Dad. They were Granddad. They were hundreds of concerts. Hundreds of sessions. Thousands of hours held in strong, capable, talented hands making beauty.
And now, Dana keeping them safe for me until my house was done, they were mine.
The very thought of Luna getting her grasping, bitchy hands on them and selling them to the highest bidder made bile race up my throat.
“Jus.”
Deke’s voice carved into the perverse, bitter sick my brother and his mother stirred up in me and I lifted my gaze, twisted my neck and looked to his face.
He was not close.
But he was concerned.
And that concern undid me.
I turned fully to him, dropped my head and fell forward.
He was not near and then he was, right there for me to collide with as everything pressed into me. So much, I couldn’t hold it back, and the tears came.
He wrapped his arms around me as he stepped farther into me so he could hold me close.
That was when I started sobbing. My body shaking with it, automatically burrowing into his heat, his solidity, his bulk, all Deke.
His arms tightened.
“I miss him,” I whispered into Deke’s chest through a hitch.
The words with that hitch barely sounded before I felt Deke’s hand glide up my spine and tangle in my hair.
“Get it out, Jussy,” he murmured, his words stirring the strands at the top of my head so I knew he was bent to me.
Deke.
Fuck me, Deke.
“My brother’s a p-p-piece of shit,” I pushed out through the tears.
Deke’s arm around me got tighter and the tips of fingers started stroking the side of my ribs.
Even this did not make me feel better. In fact this—all that was Deke enveloping all that was me—made it better at the same time so much worse.
“He’s contesting the…the will,” I shared.
Deke said nothing.
I kept crying.
It came to me slowly that I was pressed hard to him and had my hands clenched into his tee at the back. I felt the damp material against my cheek and knew how many tears had leaked and that Deke took them from me.
I also knew he was being cool, a nice guy, because that was who he was.
But I couldn’t let this go on.
So I pulled my shit together, unclenched my hands and smoothed the shirt before I dropped them to his waist and tipped my head back.
“Sorry.”
Lamentably, he took my cue and let me go.
Incredibly, he didn’t do this completely.
He put his hands on either side of my neck and bent close so his face was a couple of inches from mine.
“Think, from what you’ve told me, you get that times get bad. Hope, Jussy, you also get that those times pass. Whatever’s happening, this will pass.”
Jussy.
Shit.
I nodded because that was all I could do.
“Sorry, I…well, your shirt’s all wet,” I said, taking one hand from him to wipe my face.
“It’ll dry.”
I nodded again.
His fingers curled around my neck gave me a gentle squeeze.
“You good?”
I was not.
I gave him another nod anyway.
His eyes moved over my face and I knew he knew that nod was an inaudible lie but he didn’t call me on it.
He just said quietly, “Good,” gave me another squeeze and dropped his left hand.
But with his right, he lifted it up and I held my breath because I thought he was going to touch my face, dry a tear, something.
Instead, he raised it to the top of my head and tousled my hair before he gave me another close look, turned and walked away.