Chapter 14 Ep14

AFTER FALCON’S particularly chilly shower, he walked into his old room only to find Freya passed out in the bed. With a smile, he made his way towards the dresser where he had placed a pair of clean clothes for himself.

He had had to borrow them from Glenn, who had thankfully still been awake when he had asked for them. Falcon had grown much larger than the fourteen-year-old kid that used to stay over.

As he pulled his shirt down, over his chest, Falcon began rifling through the drawers of his old dresser. There was a reason he had come to this house. In fear of his father finding it, Falcon had snuck into Glenn’s house as he had done countless times before and had hidden it there. He knew Glenn wouldn’t have gone through his things; the old man valued privacy above all other things, even if Falcon hadn’t contacted him even once in the last five years.

He stuck his hand in the top left drawer, searching under the mound of socks for the feel of paper. After a few moments, Falcon’s fingertips hit the smooth surface of the letter and he pulled out the folded paper, holding it in his hand for a moment before glancing in the mirror where the reflection of his sleeping Freya resided.

He would miss her. God knows he would. But he had to do this for her. He had to make himself a better person - someone she wouldn’t have to fight the people around her for. Someone her father would let her marry.

Falcon knew what Freya’s father wanted for her. He wanted someone with money; someone with power and influence. Falcon had none of that now, but he would.

He unfolded the letter carefully, the sound echoing throughout the silent room. Heaving a soft breath, Falcon’s eyes scanned over the words he had memorised months ago.

June 2, 2018

Falcon Anders

17 Fremont Rd.

Angel Grove, CA 1993

Dear Mr Anders,

I was sorry to inform you of the passing of your uncle, Marius Bucșă.

As per our conversation over the telephone, Mr Bucșă devised and bequeathed the entirety of his business and estate to you. Among the paperwork I have sent you, you will find a copy of Mr Bucșă’s last will and testament, as requested.

Should you be willing and able to receive Mr Bucșă’s business and estate, please contact me to inform me as such.

Should you be unwilling or unable to receive Mr Bucșă’s business and estate, please contact me shortly to determine where it could be received.

I hope to hear from you soon.

Regards,

Jonathan Davenport

Director, Solicitor

Wills & Estates Office

Falcon’s hands shook slightly as he pulled out the second page from behind the letter. His mind went blank as he stared at the page, not knowing the appropriate emotion to feel.

LAST WILL AND TESTAMENT OF

Marius Bucșă

I, Marius Bucșă, an adult residing at 7 Eden St, Bucharest, Romania, being of sound mind, declare this to be my Last Will and testament. I revoke all wills and codicils previously made by me.

Falcon’s eyes scanned down the length of the page, the words blurring in front of his eyes before they came to a stop at the familiar curves of his name.

I devise, bequeath, and give my business, estate and all other assets under my name to my nephew, Falcon Anders.

It was there. In the man’s own handwriting. What he once would have seen as another one of the world’s cruel tricks now appeared as a glimmering light of hope.

A strange feeling of heaviness settled on his chest as he stared at the words. More than anything, he wished he could have met the man. He had been the last person on this earth to have truly seen him as family. The last remnant of his mother.

Falcon moved himself to the armchair in the corner of the room. He relaxed into the plush pillows before grabbing his phone that had been resting on the small side table next to the chair. He was thankful for his short contact list at that moment; quickly selecting the number he hadn’t had the heart to touch since the solicitor had called him.

He brought the phone to his ear, the shrill ring invaded his hearing but he didn’t flinch, his eyes firmly planted on the paper in his hand. As the phone rang, it occurred to him that he hadn’t even bothered the check the time difference between their countries. Not that he wondered about it for too long.

The harsh rings stopped seconds before a low voice filled the speaker.

“Jonathan Davenport speaking,” The formal voice said.

“Jonathan,” Falcon greeted. “It’s Falcon. Is it a good time to talk about Marius’ will?”

~🎀~

Falcon woke the next morning with a light heart. His arms were wrapped securely around Freya's waist and for the first time in years, his mind was silent. For once, his mind wasn't screaming with worries or fear, and maybe it slightly naive of him to think the worst was over, but he believed it nonetheless.

Freya stirred in his arms, turning onto her back slightly before stretching out her arms and legs, almost hitting Falcon's face in the process. She didn't seem to notice as a smile came over her lips before she turned to face him and latched onto him like a sloth.

Falcon closed his eyes letting out an exasperated sigh, knowing full well he'd end up getting out of bed with her hanging onto him. She had no shame when it came to those kinds of things.

But he wouldn't trade it for the world.

Deciding not to prolong the inevitable, Falcon hauled himself - and Freya - out of bed. Knowing that there would be more than just Glenn joining them for breakfast that morning, Falcon found himself scanning her attire to assure it was suitable to be seen by other people.

Satisfied with the oversized shirt and boxers, Falcon walked them out of the room and down the hall to where he could hear the hum of chatter coming from the kitchen.

Upon attempting to let Freya down from his arms, he only found her squeezing tighter in an effort to hold herself up, imitating soft snores that were meant to make him believe she was asleep. Falcon grinned, letting out a small chuckle before hiking her further up his hip as they entered the kitchen.

It seemed his little baby was too tired to walk by herself this early in the morning.

Glenn was seated at a long table at the far end of the room, glasses perched on the end of his nose as he peered down at the book in his hand. His eyes glanced up at Falcon and Freya's entrance a smile turning up the corners of his lips.

"Ah!" He exclaimed. "There are the lovebirds. Goodmorning you two."

Glenn's statement drew a second pair of eyes towards the couple and the boy who stood at the stove broke out in a grin as he realised who it was.

"Falcon!" He greeted excitedly. "I didn't know you were back!"

He took a step forward before glancing at the girl in Falcon's arms. It seemed like a hug from the guy he had looked up to his whole life wasn't going to be possible this morning.

Falcon smiled at the sixteen-year-old.

"Hey, kid," They shared a nod before Falcon turned towards the table.

He lowered Freya into one of the chairs, softly prying her arms from around his neck before pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He walked back to the boy before clasping his hand in his, drawing him in and giving him a pat on the back.

"How've you been, Jaxon?" He asked. "Stayed out of trouble?"

Still smiling, Jaxon turned back to the stove top, flipping over a few pieces of bacon before answering.

"Mostly," He shrugged. "Nothing outside of school."

Falcon rested his hand on Jaxon's shoulder, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"Good," He nodded to himself.

A room grew quiet for a moment, the air filling with the sound of sizzling food and the call of songbirds outside the window.

"Right," Glenn shut his book abruptly and standing from his place. "I think it's time for some food, don't you?"

The three teenagers nodded in agreeance and Falcon grabbed two plates, filling one for himself and one for Freya before seating himself at the table. He slid Freya's plate to her and she happily dug in, much to Falcon's amusement.

They were both starving, having eaten barely anything the past few days. Falcon felt slightly guilty for not having thought of it the night before - between opening his very own Pandora's box and calling Marius' solicitor, he had barely had the time to even think about food.

He promised himself he'd get her something more to eat on the way to her father's.

The four of them ate in happy silence, allowing themselves to enjoy each others company. Falcon was reminded of just how at home he had felt here, more so now than ever before.

He watched as Glenn opened his book again while simultaneously forking food into his mouth, as Jaxon worked through the pile on his plate, bits of food littering the area around his plate, and as Freya finished off the last few morsels left on her plate before sneakily stealing a piece of bacon from Falcon.

He had been wrong, he realised, to think Marius was the last person to see him as family. A person didn't have to be blood in order to be family. They just had to be there, had to love, had to comfort - just like a family would.

This was his family. The people who had gotten him through the roughest spots in his life.

Falcon's eyes fell to the only empty seat at the table as he cradled a cup of coffee in his hand. His family minus one.

He had forgiven Ryder long before he had even realised it. He just wished the idiot had stuck around long enough for Falcon to tell him.

A wry smile grew on his lips as he looked down, tears stinging the backs of his eyes. He didn't worry about Ryder. He was in a better place.

But he would miss him.

Always.

IT WAS time.

Freya and Falcon stood in front of familiar wrought iron gates. Freya’s house could be seen from their position on the sidewalk, and so could the police car that was neatly parked beside her father’s car.

Freya cast a worried look towards Falcon, but he simply squeezed her waist in reassurance.

“What-what do you think it’s for?” Freya’s soft voice wavered slightly as her eyes remained glued to the police car.

Realising what it was she was so afraid of, Falcon’s arm around her waist tightened, pulling her closer to his side.

“I’m sure he’s just worried about you, love,” he winced as guilt washed over him. “He has no idea where you are.”

Freya felt panic strike her gut as she imagined what her father must have been feeling the past few days. He must be devastated. And furious.

Her hand moved up to clutch Falcon’s wrist that laid on her hip. She prayed to God her father would hear Falcon out before blaming it all on him. Though she wouldn’t blame him if he did; he was a panicked father and she knew how it would look from his perspective. He was bound to jump to the worst conclusions.

“Come on,” Falcon lightly pushed her forward as they began walking towards the gates.

Freya hesitantly pushed them open, letting out a heavy breath as they continued their trek to the front door. As their footsteps - or more so, Falcon’s footsteps - echoed off the stairs, the door swung open to reveal Freya’s father.

He was talking to the officer, both of them looking exhausted and lost. Her father had deep, dark circles under his eyes and Freya swore he had aged over the long weekend.

Michael’s eyes turned to the couple and for a moment, nothing registered on his face. After a second, shock filled his face before relief followed quickly behind. Before they knew it, he was down the stairs, tripping over his own feet as he wrapped Freya in his arms, letting out a shuddering breath.

“Oh, my girl,” he pressed her closer. “Sweetheart. You’re okay. You’re okay now.”

Freya didn’t know if he was trying to comfort her or himself. She wrapped her hands around her father’s waist, settling into the comfort of his embrace as she closed her eyes and squeezed herself closer. After a moment, she glanced over her father’s shoulder and met Falcon’s eyes. He looked on with a small smile though it was tinged with a wry sense of sadness.

Her father finally gave her an inch of room, cradling her head in his hands as he looked her over.

“You are okay, aren’t you?” he asked in a rush. “You’re not hurt. Are you hurt? Are you tired? Of course, you are, what am I thinking? Let’s get you inside.”

He began shepherding her through the front door, but she struggled slightly in his hold, reaching out a hand for Falcon. Michael paused for a moment, only just registering Falcon’s presence.

After a tense moment of silence, Michael spoke.

“You too,” he said simply before ushering Freya inside.

He turned to the officer that stood in the house, giving him a grateful nod.

“Thank you for your help,” he held out his hand for the man to shake.

The man returned the handshake and nod before exiting the house. As Freya and her father made their way into the living room, Falcon followed behind unsurely. He hadn’t been told outright to leave, but he still felt like an unwelcome house guest. Her father’s response gave him hope, though. He seemed willing to listen.

Michael sat Freya down on the plush couch while he took a seat on his armchair. Falcon hovered nervously, his hands tucked into the front pockets of his jeans - well, Glenn’s jeans - as he bit the inside of his cheek. He didn’t know what to do or say - he didn’t know what he was allowed to do. But he couldn’t mess this up.

Michael watched Falcon for a moment before gesturing for him to take a seat. Falcon, of course, gravitated to the space next to Freya. It wasn’t something he really thought about until his ass touched the seat. He realised his probable mistake and stiffened as he sent a worried gaze to Freya’s father.

Michael rolled his eyes.

“Just take a seat, boy,” he boomed and Falcon’s body fell into the back of the couch.

Even though Michael was slightly smaller than Falcon, it was his girlfriend’s father. He was absolutely terrified of messing up - being that it was the first time they had ever had a true conversation.

“Sorry, sir,” Falcon winced to himself slightly for being such a wuss.

“So,” Michael began and Falcon’s back straightened again. He knew what was coming. “Would you mind explaining just what exactly happened?”

Falcon felt panic grip his chest for a moment but he pushed it aside. He hated recounting the events of, well, his entire life, but if it was what he needed to do in order to keep his girl, he’d do it a million times over.

“Well, it’s a long story, sir,” his hand found Freya’s on instinct as his heart began beating faster. “A very long story.”

Falcon told him everything. Every little detail, beginning from the moment his mother died, up until Marius’ will. Every wrongdoing of his own and the people around him. How he had killed four people out of panic. His years in juvie. Things he hadn’t even told Freya.

By the end of it, there was silence. Freya was slightly stunned at just how bad Falcon had had it, and Michael simply sat there, a hard look in his eyes as he leaned forward in his chair, his chin resting on the tips of his fingers.

Falcon drew in a sharp breath as he suddenly remembered his suspicion from the day before.

“I think I know who tipped my brother off,” Falcon said carefully.

He knew Penn was a favourite of Freya’s father, so he didn’t want to seem like he was doing this just to get Penn out of Michael’s good graces.

Michael raised an eyebrow in interest and Falcon shot Freya a nervous look. She squeezed his hand, encouraging him to continue.

“Obviously, I have no evidence of it,” he said unsurely. “It’s more of a hunch than anything. Just something he once said to me kind of stood out and it makes sense-”

“Just spit it out,” Michael said calmly.

Falcon let out a breath through his nose as he stared at his and Freya’s intertwined hands that laid in his lap.

“I think it was Penn,” Falcon bit the inside of his cheek again, risking a glance at Michael’s face.

It was emotionless, which could be a very good or very bad thing.

“Why do you think that?” Michael asked without any bite to his words.

It calmed Falcon slightly and he explained himself.

“I know my brother,” he began. “He likes to know everything about his targets. Where they live, their family, their pets, their job. Even what they eat every day.”

He paused for a moment to gauge Michael’s reaction. Nothing yet.

“When my brother got to me,” Falcon’s brow furrowed as he grimaced. “He didn’t know anything. All he knew was the school I went to. He didn’t know anything about Freya or our father - so, whoever told him about me was trying to keep something under wraps.”

Falcon rubbed the back of his neck as a nervous tick.

“I have a feeling that something was Freya,” he said, bringing his hand down to cup his chin. “It makes sense that Penn would want to keep her out of harm’s way. And then there’s what he said to me-”

“What did he say?” Michael interrupted, having sat up in his chair now as a hard look came over his face.

Falcon swallowed before wetting his lips.

"He said there were a lot of secrets around," Falcon said. "Not just our relationship. And he made it quite obvious he didn't care about her, but he wanted her because marrying her meant getting the family business. It just makes sense."

Michael's eyes wandered from Falcon as he mulled over the information in his thoughts.

"It does seem logical," he murmured to himself before returning his gaze to Falcon. "I'll confront him and his father. I'm sure his father will grant me access to any call records he has from his son."

Falcon nodded in thanks, shaking off the shock that Michael was actually willing to believe him.

"Until then," Michael's eyes narrowed in on the couple's hands before looking back up at Falcon. "What are you going to do about this?"

He waved his hand between Freya and Falcon. With a jolt, Falcon realised he was being given a chance.

"Uh-With your permission, sir," his grip of Freya's hand tightened in fear. "I'd like your permission to date her."

He swallowed thickly as an awkward silence began filtering through the air.

"Officially," He amended.

He felt like an idiot. He sounded like an idiot. But what on earth was he expected to say?

Michael eyed him for a few more moments before sighing.

"Don't mess this up for yourself, Anders," he began pushing himself up from his chair as the words began registering in Falcon's mind.

A grin spread across his face as his heart spluttered.

"Thank you, sir," he felt like he'd won first prize - which in a way, he had. "Thank you."

He couldn't really control his mouth at this point, so he kept saying thank you until the man had turned the corner and left the room. He felt like fist-pumping in the air but settled for tackling Freya into the couch and pressing a hard kiss to her lips.

Freya giggled as he pressed kisses all over her face. He squeezed her close, nestling his face into her chest and sighing in content. Freya's fingers combed through his hair as they laid in silence.

For the first time in Falcon's memory, he felt like nothing could go wrong. Like everything was finally falling into place.

He could practically see his life with Freya unfolding before his eyes and a megawatt grin stretched his face even further.

His impossible future with the love of his life suddenly didn't seem so impossible.