“I GUESS YOU’RE PROBABLY WONDERING what I’m doing here,” Nolan said.
I wasn’t actually. Considering it was past noon and I was still in my pajamas and half-strung out from the lack of sleep, I didn’t really care what his reason was for being there. But out of politeness and respect for Lucian’s friend and mentor, I sat down across from him on the sofa and waited to hear him out.
Nolan crossed his legs and leaned back. “Lucian asked me to handle his affairs, after the fact.”
“Right,” I murmured.
That made sense. But again, I didn’t really care. Everything that Lucian had to give to me, he gave when he was alive. The rest were just details.
“He wanted to make sure you were provided for,” Nolan began. “So the bulk of his estate will belong to you with the exception of a few donations to some charities that he promised to contribute to.”
I noticed that Nolan didn’t have a will to read from. There was no briefcase. No tablet. And it upset me because I wanted to see Lucian’s words for myself.
“Shouldn’t there be paperwork?” I asked.
“It really wasn’t necessary,” Nolan answered. “Your name was on everything anyway. The details are just a formality he wanted you to know.”
My disappointment was evident. I wanted there to be something else. Something I could see for myself. I wanted every little piece of Lucian I could get. “When did he talk to you about this?”
Nolan cleared his throat. “As soon as the marriage was legal.”
A burning ache spread through my chest and up my throat. Without intending to, Nolan triggered a memory of that day. The day we were married, I hated Lucian West more than anything and swore I would screw him over at the first available opportunity. I’d read his contract, taking particular notice of the clause that stated if he died before the two years were up, I would be free.
I spitefully told him I wished that were the case. And now, the nastiness of that statement made me shrivel up inside. Even after every poisonous word I’d stabbed him with, Lucian wanted to provide a life for me. He wanted to believe I was still good. A sob broke free as I wrapped my arms around myself. Nolan looked distraught, but he didn’t seem to know what to do.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I know how difficult this must be for you.”
“I was just thinking that I don’t deserve any of this,” I answered tearfully. “I never deserved him.”
He smiled then, and it was full of sorrow. “Lucian thought the world of you.”
“If that were true, then he’d still be here.”
Nolan didn’t argue but decided the best course of action was to redirect the conversation back to Lucian’s final wishes. “The house is yours,” he said. “The money in the checking account and both of his cars as well. He asked that you donate whatever personal belongings you don’t want to a charitable cause.”
“I’m not donating anything of his.”
“That’s fine,” Nolan conceded. “Whatever you wish.”
My teeth clenched as I considered it. “I wouldn’t just throw his stuff away. What kind of person does that?”
“You have to remember he set this up when the marriage was still new.” Nolan held his palms up as if to say it wasn’t his fault. “It would only make sense that he might draw that conclusion.”
I didn’t answer because I was too ashamed to admit that he probably drew a lot of other conclusions after all the deplorable behavior that he witnessed from me.
“There is also the option to transfer ownership of the house and vehicles to the wrongful conviction foundation he established,” Nolan said carefully. “If that’s something you think you’d like to do.”
I curled into the sofa, recalling how many nights I’d waited up for Lucian here. How I would watch him come through the front door, and all his tension would melt away as soon as he was near me.
This house was full of memories, everywhere I looked. Memories that I didn’t even know we were making at the time. Now they haunted me. They made me smile, and they made me cry. It hurt so much, but I knew I could never let this house, or anything inside it, go.
My eyes met Nolan’s, empty and lost. “I’m never going to get over him.”
With grief as my constant companion and little interest in anything else, I had begun to dig up every aspect of Lucian’s life that I could find, savoring those little details like they were the only thing that mattered. I guess now, in a way, they were.
My life had drifted from a routine that felt linear and logical into something I didn’t know how to pilot. I was no longer on the course Lucian set for me. Now, I was left to set my own course, and I didn’t know what to do with myself.
Kate offered several times to help me apply to colleges or seek apprenticeships or just talk about what direction my life should go over coffee. She thought it would be helpful for my grief if I had something else to occupy my mind, but the truth was, nothing could draw my attention away from the life of Lucian West.
Day and night, I scoured through the history of his cases. At least, whatever I could access publicly. I’d read all the transcripts and got lost in the news articles detailing both sides. There were times when I found myself attempting to be a keyboard warrior, defending him online to all the trolls who called him names and didn’t know a thing about him. But that became as fruitless as it sounded, and in the end, I realized I needed to do something bigger. I wanted the world to know who Lucian was, and it set into motion the only thing I’d ever done that had given me purpose.
When Birdie first saw me getting dressed and brushing my hair, she was excited. She offered to take me to coffee or shopping or the spa. All the things we used to do together. And I was a little sorry when her face fell because I refused her, but I explained that I had important things to do.
She thought I was going insane, sitting in front of the computer all day staring at the screen like a zombie. But I was processing every word I read and furiously scribbling notes. Those notes weren’t enough. I needed to hear from the people Lucian helped. I needed to hear from those he had changed.
It wasn’t easy. At first, I was hesitant given the fact that many of his clients had witnessed my epic meltdown at his service, followed by the ash-napping incident. But regardless, I couldn’t allow my humiliation to hold me back.
There was the small matter of getting over my nerves as well. Many of Lucian’s clients were somewhat scary looking at first glance. Bikers. Footballers. There was even a professional fighter who had to be inching seven feet tall.
But when I sat down across from them and asked them to tell me about Lucian in their own words, I realized something. They were just men. Men who worked hard and wanted to live their lives in peace away from judgment and stereotypes.
In a short time, they painted a picture for me of something that was very clearly wrong with our justice system. The notion that bias was alive and well, and that one man had the balls to fight for them when everyone else was ready to stone them. I knew it already, but hearing it from them was profound in a way I didn’t expect.
Lucian West was a real-life hero, and if I didn’t already know it, the proof was in these furiously scribbled page notes.