Fractured [SHAWN MENDES]

~58~

Taryn woke up to the sound of her phone buzzing. She answered the call while hurrying out of the bedroom, lest she wake Shawn. "Hello?"

"Scott Pierce here. Just wanted to check in with you about a couple things."

Great. An early morning call from a lawyer was not the wake-up she wanted. "Oh hi. Are you done with the discovery stuff for my father's estate?"

"Unfortunately, no. With the holidays, we got a little backlogged, so we're just starting the process now. I'm hoping we'll have everything together by the end of February, which is fairly quick compared to some estates. It can often take six months to a year to get everything in order."

"I'm not in a rush," she assured him. "I think we both know you won't be discovering much."

He cleared his throat. "One of things I called to ask you was whether you wanted updates along the way or if you wanted me to contact you once we're done."

"There's no need to give me updates."

"Noted. The other reason for my call is that we've gathered your father's personal effects from his residence. There was nothing of value, other than his 2015 pick-up, which we will hold onto until we find out if he had any debts. We have his things and his urn here at the Toronto office, so if you'd like to come by and get them, you can."

Taryn felt a little queasy. "Are we talking a lot of stuff?"

"No. He rented a furnished apartment so there are no large items. It's mostly his clothing and the contents of his desk. He had an old laptop which I'm not even sure is functional. Your father was quite the minimalist," he said with a laugh.

"Or he was dirt poor and couldn't afford more than the clothes on his back." Her tone was a bit nastier than the lawyer deserved, but she didn't find anything about the situation amusing.

"Yes...of course. I'm sorry. When can we expect you to retrieve the items?"

Ol' Scott obviously didn't want a big box of a dead guy's crap taking up space in his nice leather and cherry wood office, though she could hardly blame him. "I'll come by today since I have the day off."

"Very good. See you then."

They both said goodbye before the call ended. Taryn felt the same oppressive weight of sadness that had been haunting her since she'd found out that her father was dead.

"What was that about?" Shawn asked from behind her.

She turned around and saw him leaning against the bedroom doorway, scratching his junk while letting out a huge open-mouthed yawn. "It was the estate lawyer checking in. I have to go get my dad's stuff today."

"Now?"

"No, but I'd like to get it done soon."

He grinned. "So we have time to go back to bed?"

She knew that sex would be a good temporary distraction, so she gave him a smile and followed him into the bedroom.

Shawn's love language was sex, which was probably true for many men. With him, however, it was all about giving. Telling Taryn he loved her was one thing, but showing her was completely different. Every whimper, moan, or gasp that escaped her mouth during their lovemaking was like music to his ears. He'd never really felt this way before. It wasn't that he'd been selfish in bed in the past, but his needs were always more pressing.

As he took care of her, he knew intuitively that she needed an escape and a release. She still wasn't talking to him about what had happened to her dad, so this was the best way for him to help her.

~~~~~~

Later that morning, Taryn and Shawn put the boxes on the floor of the dining room after retrieving them from the law office. She had planned to assess the contents right away, but as she stared at the plain brown cardboard containers, she felt a tightness in her chest. "Want to go for a walk?" she asked Shawn, who had just sat down to play guitar in the living room.

"It's a little cold for that."

"What kind of Canadian are you? We're bred to handle this kind of weather! Let's walk to our favorite coffee shop. Doesn't a pastry sound good right now?"

He chuckled. "Whatever you want m'lady."

An hour and a half later they were back in the condo, both with bright red noses from being out in the freezing air. This time, Taryn distracted herself with a long hot bath in Shawn's soaking tub. He continued to work on a tune that had been swimming around his brain.

He'd now written half a dozen songs, but none of them were about his girlfriend specifically. They were a known couple, and photos of them out and about occasionally popped up online ever since they'd been photographed and filmed on New Year's Eve. Andrew felt it was very positive PR, so Shawn didn't let it bother him. Taryn didn't really love the attention and was now limiting her time on social media. There was no reason not to write love songs about her, but something was holding him back. Had Winter ruined his ability to express his true feelings through music?

When Taryn emerged a little later, wearing sweats and one of Shawn's hoodies, she decided it was time to woman-up and start going through the boxes. She'd set the urn aside, unsure of what to do with it. If she brought it back to her apartment, she wanted it hidden away somewhere so it wasn't a constant reminder of her dad. A thought occurred to her. "Shawn?"

"What, honey?" he responded from the couch where he was now looking at the pop charts to see how the song he'd written was doing. It had been released the week before and he was checking the data as obsessively as he had with his own songs.

"Can I keep the ashes here? You can just put them at the back of a closet. I just don't think I'm ready to have them at my place."

"Yeah, whatever works for you. I'll put them in the guestroom."

She felt instant relief knowing that she wouldn't have to cart her father's remains home with her later that day. "Thank you."

She took a deep breath and opened the first box, which was full of clothing. Ford apparently owned nothing but jeans, worn cotton t-shirts, and flannels. At the very bottom of the box was a shirt that transported her back in time. It was an orange and brown plaid flannel shirt that he used to wear when she was a little girl, and more specifically, the one he'd worn on her eighth birthday.

"Alrighty, Princess...I'll take you anywhere you want to go for lunch," he said once they were buckled in his old car. She was in the front seat, because guys like her dad weren't really up to date on the recommended guidelines for child safety.

"Can we go to McDonald's?" she asked.

"Of course! You only turn sixteen once!"

She giggled. "Daddy! I'm eight!"

He slapped his hand against his forehead. "Are you? Darn! Then the car I bought you is gonna have to wait!" They drove to the closest McDonalds and went inside. She always wanted the same thing, and he knew her order by heart. "The birthday girl will have a nugget Happy Meal and a vanilla shake. I'd like a Big Mac, large fries, and a Coke, no ice."

Before long, their tray of food was ready, and they took it to a booth. The person behind the counter threw in some McDonaldland cookies, since it was her birthday. As they ate, they talked about the pizza dinner they were having at her grandfather's that night. Mama was working the day shift at the bar so that she'd have the whole night off to celebrate Taryn. There wasn't money for lots of presents, but she didn't care; being with her family was enough.

"I love you, T," her daddy told her once they got back in the car. "Don't ever forget that."