Bared Souls - Ellie Wade Page 0,111

absence. I have to force myself to eat, and most meals threaten to come up, many succeeding. I’m navigating how to exist in a world where he’s not. Sometimes, I think I’m failing. The parts of me that hold on to Leo’s existence with every fiber of my being urge me to allow myself some grace. I still feel Leo deep in my heart and soul, and he whispers that I’m doing just fine. I want to believe it, but it’s hard to trust in anything right now.

I’m closed off to the world. I gave the managers at The Lion’s Lair a raise and asked them to take over the place for the foreseeable future. I turned my phone off after the funeral and haven’t powered it up since. I have no desire to talk to those who were absent in Leo’s life. It’s just me, in this big house, alone with his ghost and my memories.

Yesterday, I received a certified letter from the coroner’s office. Turns out, the cocaine that Leo had taken was a bad batch, laced with fentanyl—proof that he hadn’t tried to leave me. He slipped and heartbreakingly purchased a deadly batch. I had known that his death wasn’t intentional. I never doubted that for a second, but it still provided a fragment of closure.

The past month has been spent trying to figure out where I went wrong, where I failed him, and what I missed. Were there signs? If so, I didn’t see them—a fact that makes me hurt even more. Was Leo struggling, and I didn’t notice? He had been meeting with Ollie regularly, so perhaps there was a battle that he was fighting that I wasn’t aware of. There were many stints of time throughout our relationship where he saw Ollie more often than others though. So, I didn’t question that either. That’s a downfall of loving an addict—he had pains and inner struggles that he kept from me. I would’ve taken all of his hurt away if I could. I would’ve shouldered them all, if he’d let me. Did he see something during the home visits that tipped the scales and made him break the sobriety he’d fought for all these years? I’ll never know, and perhaps that’s for the best. What can I do now?

A knock sounds at my door. I mute the bad reality TV I’m watching and make my way to the door. I hesitantly open it. A man I’ve never seen stands in a nice suit, holding a portfolio.

“Mrs. Alma Harding?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I respond.

“Hello. I’m Alan Grice, the Hardings’ estate attorney. I have Leo’s will and asset information here for you. I’ve been trying to reach you via phone and email but not had any luck. Please excuse me for dropping by, unannounced.”

“Oh, no problem. Please come in.” I step to the side to allow him entrance.

I sit across from him at the kitchen table as he removes files and sets them out on the wooden surface.

“Leo came into my office four years ago and set everything up. I just need a couple of signatures from you, and I’ll be out of your way.”

“What is all of this?” I ask.

“These are Leo’s trust and investment accounts. He put them all in your name.”

“You mean, our joint bank accounts?” I ask, knowing that my name is already on our checking and savings accounts, which totals a substantial amount of money.

“No, these are accounts that Leo has never made a withdrawal from. He invested the majority of his original trust fund years ago, and they’ve been building. I don’t think he ever had any intention of using the money from these accounts unless he really needed it. He told me that too much money is dangerous. But as they are all in your name, you should have the account information for them. In total, the sum is around forty million dollars.”

“Forty million dollars,” I choke out.

“Yes,” Mr. Grice says calmly, as if that amount were pocket change. “I’ll need your signature here and here”—he points to two signature lines and hands me a pen—“to make everything final. All of the information you need to keep track of the investments or make withdrawals or additions is included here.” He places his hand on the file. “My information is here as well, and I can help you with anything you might need.”

I sign the paperwork.

“And finally, when Mr. Harding came in several years ago to transfer everything over to you, he