Page 74 of Words I Couldn't Say
FILMING HAD BEEN AN EXHAUSTINGroller coaster, and while I was happy for some downtime, I wasn’t quite sure what to do with myself. Tucker and I had planned on spending my first full free day together, but early in the morning, he’d gotten a call about some construction emergency on a job site. Tanner was at a different site and couldn’t get away, so Tucker reluctantly gave me a lingering kiss before heading out the door, but not before he teased me about a possible short story he’d written. An epilogue of sorts for Trevor and Abigail—but one he hadn’t wanted to share until filming was over. I was intrigued, naturally, because I had no idea what could’ve come after Trevor’s death.
Not wanting to tear his home apart in desperate search of it—okay, that’s exactly that I wanted to do—I threw a pair of his sweatpants on, rolled them at the waist, then donned a T-shirt that smelled deliciously like him. While putting my hair up, I decided to clean his house from top to bottom, both as a thank-you for allowing me to basically move in and as a way to keep myself busy until he returned.
Hours later, I was done with the entire house except for one room. As I crept down the hall towards what once was his parents’ bedroom, my heart hammered in my chest. Tucker and I hadn’t talked about them or the accident since I’d been back. When I’d previously commented on the fact that he still slept in his childhood room, he’d shrugged it off, saying that it was all the space he needed.
I had no idea what to expect when I turned the knob and pushed the door open. With caution, I stepped inside and studied the room, shocked that the once warm bedroom had now been transformed into an office.
The room was mostly spotless. Two bookshelves lined the walls, and a filing cabinet was next to a large oak desk. A computer was on top, along with three notebooks. My heart leaped into my throat when I crossed the room and saw that the notebook on top was labeledThe Unconventional Happy Ever After.I wondered if it was Tucker’s next project. It was like a beacon calling for me, insisting I come closer, open the pages, and devour whatever he’d written.
As much as I wanted that, I knew I should wait for his permission. He’d once commented that he was fiercely private about his work until it went to his editor. The last thing I wanted to do was break his trust by reading something he wasn’t ready to show anyone yet.
That didn’t mean I wouldn’t ask later.
I set about straightening his desk up. That seemed harmless enough without being considered snooping. All of that flew out the window moments later when I opened his filing cabinet. I was just planning to temporarily store his notebooks there while I dusted. It was nearly three-quarters full, and I had to make room in the back.
As I began to push the notebooks into the cabinet, I caught sight of a folder—one that jumped out at me immediately. The front had the University of Cincinnati’s logo. Had Tucker gone to college after all? If so, why hadn’t it ever come up? It wouldn’t have shocked me because even if he hadn’t gone to USC, UC’s Department of Journalism was nothing to sneeze at, and he could’ve taken night or online classes. Or had he gone the English literature route once he’d realized his desire to write a novel? So many questions arose that I was itching to have them all answered.
I should have waited. I should have left well enough alone. But I didn’t.
Curiosity got the better of me.
Moments later, I wished it hadn’t, because when I took the file out of the drawer, I saw the rest of the cover.
University of Cincinnati Cancer Center.
All previous curiosity of Tucker’s potential major flew out the window. In its place, awful theories of what this could mean took hold of not only all rational thought, but my heart as well, threatening to squeeze the life out of me.
What was this? Was Tucker sick? Was Tanner?
Of course, Ava,my brain told me. Why else would he have medical records from a cancer center? My earlier wish of respecting his privacy and not wanting to break his trust completely evaporated from my mind. I couldn’tnotfind out the truth.
I held my breath as I opened the file, unsure of what I was about to discover. Unsure I wanted to continue down this path that was suddenly bringing Tucker’s book far too close to home.
My hands trembled as I skimmed the document with blurry vision. The phrasesblood cell countsandaggressive treatment planjumped out at me like snapping piranhas from the page. When I saw an order for chemotherapy, my breath caught in my throat and I no longer had any desire to learn the truth. That was until I set the page aside and my eyes were drawn to the document that had been behind the medical record.
Last Will and Testament.
A sob bubbled over and escaped my lips. Tucker was twenty-three. Why would he have a will created? Unless…
Unless there was a reason that made him believe he needed one.
The notion caused my knees to buckle, and the sound of them crashing against the hardwood echoed all around me. A torrential rush of tears exploded from behind my eyes.
God, what had I done? What had I left Tucker to deal with all on his own? Why hadn’t he told me? A barrage of questions sifted through my mind, one after the other, relentless in their attack.
“Ava?”
Tucker’s quiet voice caused me to jump. When I dropped the folder and looked up at him, his expression was guarded.
“What is this?” I asked, wiping my eyes, surprised by how calm I was.
“Ava, I can explain.”
