Hearts and Thorns

by Ella Fields

  Victoria gazed down at the desk, the morning sun bouncing off it, sending dust motes into the air. “I don’t know,” she said, her tone gentler now. “I just wish she’d give me a chance.”

  I couldn’t help but prod. “For what, exactly?”

  She blinked, then shifted. “To make amends, I suppose.”

  I had nothing to say to that, so I clicked my pen, my shoulders growing more tense with each heartbeat.

  She eyed the velvet armchair beside her as if she might take a seat, then reconsidered. “Anyway, I’m organizing a coming home party for your father next weekend.”

  And she wanted Willa to be there. “Do you really think that’s a good idea?”

  Her forehead creased. “What do you mean?”

  She had to be too hopeful or just plain stupid. There was no way in hell all of us could be in the same room together. If I had to see the asshole Willa ruined me for all those years ago, I’d probably kill him. “Think about it, Victoria.”

  She visibly deflated. “Do you know how much it hurts when you call me that?”

  “Did you know how much it hurt when you gave me reason to?” She’d been ten times the mother than my real one had been. I wasn’t even twelve years old when I’d wised up to who Kylie really was. A child stuck in a woman’s body who never wanted a child of her own. I was a hindrance, and Dad had no qualms when I’d said I wanted to quit visiting her.

  Victoria, for all of her numerous faults, had always treated me like her own son.

  Until I misbehaved in such a way that demoted me to family pet.

  Silence permeated, thick and constricting, as we both stared at one another.

  After a minute, Victoria straightened, adjusted her purse strap over her shoulder, and moved her lips into a passable smile. “I’ll be in touch with the details.”

  When the door closed behind her, I plucked out Dad’s whiskey and took a hefty swig.

  Willa

  Dennis waltzed out from the kitchen, his hair braided today, dressed all in denim save for the checkered Vans on his feet. “Red velvets are ready,” he sang, sliding the fresh batch of cupcakes onto a tray from the display cabinet.

  I handed Marie Elden, my elementary school teacher, her change and smiled as she and her partner walked out on the street. “I’m going to clean out the storage room.”

  Dennis straightened, his brows arching high. “For real? You did that two days ago.” Eyeing me a minute, he stuck his hands on his hips. “Was it really that bad?”

  “What, exactly?” I leaned back against the window beside the till, my eyelids fluttering as the sun warmed my back.

  “Seeing the ex, or seeing the stepdad.”

  My nose wrinkled. Nothing could remain a secret in this place, not that I’d expected it to. Staring at my black flats, I conceded, “Both.”

  Sympathy tugged at his thin lips. “Are you going back to see him?”

  That was the question I’d asked myself time and time again since going to the hospital last week. I knew he had to be going home soon, and there was no way I could visit him there. I wasn’t even sure why I felt the need to visit him at all.

  When I voiced that, Dennis said, “Because no matter what he’s done, he’s still your father, and you’re always going to care about him.”

  And there was the ice-cold truth.

  Dennis shooed me ten minutes later, and I climbed inside the same Volkswagen Heath and Victoria had bought me all those years ago. Thanks to my proximity to work, it didn’t get used nearly as much as it should and lived behind the bakery in a small carport adjoined to the parking lot.

  This time, after some space and letting myself acknowledge the truth, I didn’t feel as squeamish as I strode down the hall.

  That is, until I knocked on the door and opened it to find Heath wasn’t alone.

  Jackson sat beside the bed, a laptop open on his lap that they’d both been looking at.

  He didn’t close it as I walked in. He didn’t so much as acknowledge my presence as I stood there, unsure what to do. “I can come back,” I offered after an awkward moment.

  Heath frowned. “No, no. Take a seat.” He gestured to the only other chair left in the room, which was thankfully on the other side of the bed, away from Jackson.

  But it didn’t matter. We were in the same room, and I wasn’t sure how long I could endure it, let alone muster up conversation.

  Heath took care of that for me. “Jackson’s running the show now, but we’ve still got contracts and other things to iron out.”

  I nodded. “You’re retiring fully?”

  Heath pondered that a moment. “I’ll still be present should he need me, but otherwise, yes. Other things matter more.”

  The clicks of Jackson’s typing bounced off the walls, and I cleared my throat. “So, how are you feeling?”

  “Good now that you’ve come back.” He smiled, a real genuine smile, and I felt my lips part. “Tell me how school was. Do you have a boyfriend? What’s that bakery of yours like? I’ve heard people will trample their grandmothers for your mini pies and treats.”

  Struggling to keep up, I struggled with what to answer first. “No boyfriend. I had one, um, in college, for a long while. He’s in med school on the West Coast.”

  “Is that why you broke up?” Heath asked.

  I realized then that the typing had ceased, but I kept my eyes fixed on Heath’s curious expression. “Sort of.” We’d broken up because of my inability to commit to something that was good for me. We’d broken up because I hadn’t been fair to him.

  We’d broken up because no matter how much time passed, nor how hard I’d tried, I’d forever be in love with my stepbrother.

  “And you liked school?”

  “I did,” I said. I then went on to tell him about some of the classes I’d taken, and the more I talked, the easier it was to ignore the giant asshole in the room.

  Heath was all smiling eyes as I explained when I’d moved back, and how I’d come to open the bakery.

  “How is Daniel?” Heath asked as I was getting up to leave.

  There was no ire or annoyance in the question, only honest intrigue. “Really good. He’s been dating.” I laughed a little, remembering how I’d set up his profile on one of the dating sites he’d been using. “Using websites and such, though I’m not sure he’s using them the way he should.”

  Heath chuckled at that, then winced, shifting on the bed.

  “I need to get back to work, but you’re looking a lot better.” I smiled. “You can go home soon, right?”

  “Two days,” Heath said. “Oh, speaking of, your mother’s planned this god-awful party for me.” Peering up at me, he said, “You’ll be there, won’t you?”

  I swallowed, about to shake my head when Jackson spoke. “She’ll be there.”

  Finally, I looked at him, ready to say… I didn’t know. His hair was swept back over top, the sides cropped close to his scalp, making those jade greens luminous. The only vibrancy to an otherwise carefully vacant face.

  “Saturday afternoon,” Heath said, and I dragged my attention back to him. “Show up whenever you’re ready. Stay for as little or as long as you want. We’d just love to see you.”

  I was tempted to ask what all this change of heart seemed to be about, but I didn’t.

  It didn’t matter what had caused it—whether it be time, regret, a near death experience, or something else.

  What mattered was it was happening, and I had to figure out how I felt about it and what to do with it.

  With a nod and a small smile, I traipsed to the door, letting it fall closed behind me.

  But it didn’t close, and a half minute later, I knew why.

  “You lied to him,” Jackson clipped.

  “What?” I stopped, confused. “About what?”

  “About the asshole you’re with.”

  “I did no such thing.”

  He tutted. “Your little bakery is even named after the stupid nickname he gave you
.”

  Observing the tic in his jaw, the curling of his hands at his sides, and the harsh slant of his lowered brows, it finally dawned on me.

  It wasn’t only the bakery, but the photo of me and Todd in my apartment. The one he’d been holding. “You really believe…” I stopped, laughing. “God, okay. You know what? Keep thinking whatever you want.” I waved a hand, then walked on. “Your first assumptions are always the only facts you’ve ever needed.”

  My wrist was grabbed before I could reach the end of the hallway, and I was tugged into a small alcove with a fire extinguisher.

  Dark and vibrating, Jackson loomed above me. “You don’t get to throw out words like that as if you have the right. You don’t get to lie to the people who still give a damn about you, and you definitely don’t get to have the last word and then walk away.”

  I was about to tug my wrist free, but staring up into those haunting eyes, inhaling him with every rushed breath, I thought better of it, and turned my hand over, clasping his.

  “I’m not lying.” Slowly, my fingers tickled across his skin, and his jaw loosened, nostrils flaring. “And Jackson, I can do whatever I want. I can say whatever I want. And that ego of yours is just going to have to deal with it.”

  He snatched his hand away, his lips rising a fraction. “You decide to try the sass on now? It’s a little too late, and it’s not endearing.” His eyes raked over my peasant blouse, then returned to mine. “Stick to what you’re good at.”

  “And what’s that?” I dared to ask.

  “Being meek and stupid.” He strode away, brisk and so sure of himself, while I wilted into the shadows of the alcove.

  The bell to the bakery jangled, and I rushed out from the kitchen, brushing flour onto my apron. “Hi, what can I…” Words evaporated as I took in the tall blonde bombshell in tight jeans and a fitted emerald green cashmere turtleneck.

  “Hi, Willa.” Ainsley released the tight hold she’d had on her purse to flutter her fingers. “It’s been a while, so I thought it was best I stop by, you know, to see how you’re doing.” She feigned interest as she glanced around. “You’ve done a great job with this old place. So cute.”

  I could hear Dennis returning from his cigarette break, laughing about something with Flo in the kitchen. I prayed they stayed there.

  “Thanks,” I said, for lack of anything better to say. “Want a cupcake?”

  Pursing her lips, Ainsley eyed the pastries before her, then shook her head, tendrils of blond hair shifting over her shoulders. “No, me and carbs still don’t agree.”

  I rocked back on my feet, forcing a smile, and felt my stomach knot as she lifted her hand, the one with the engagement ring, to tuck some hair behind her ear. “So, are you coming to Heath’s homecoming?”

  It was tomorrow, and I still hadn’t decided, but I was leaning toward a definite no. “I’m not sure.”

  Flo and Dennis walked out, then stopped.

  Ainsley made a face, humming in agreement. “I mean, how uncomfortable right?” She laughed. “I couldn’t even imagine.”

  A keening sound came from Flo, and vaguely, I heard Dennis usher her back into the kitchen.

  Frowning, I asked, “How so?”

  Her laugh was exactly the same, high pitched and breathy. “You know, after everything. It’ll probably be awkward is all.” She paused as if realizing how she was coming across, then waved a flippant hand. “If you do, though, I’ll hang with you and help alleviate any tension.”

  If I wasn’t sure I was wanted there, she’d just given me my answer.

  My spine stiffened, my shoulders rising. I pasted on a bright smile. “That’s actually real nice of you.” Her eyes didn’t agree with her smile. “I guess I’ll think about it.”

  After staring at me for a minute that felt as if it’d never end, Ainsley nodded, glancing to the kitchen where hushed words were being spoken, then waved. “Look forward to seeing you, then… if you show.”

  “Yeah,” I said as her hips swayed with each step to the door. “If I show.”

  “Oh, my god,” Dennis said, racing out as soon as Ainsley had hit the sidewalk. “Was that her?”

  “Jackson’s pretty distraction,” Flo said. “Yep.” I shot her a scowl, and she shrugged. “It’s true. She’s always around to be his constant backup plan.” She made a gagging sound. “Girl needs some more self-respect.”

  While I definitely wasn’t Ainsley’s biggest fan, I didn’t know if I agreed with that. If anything, I could empathize with her actions wherever Jackson was concerned.

  “She hates that you’re coming back into their lives. She was totally just trying to piss all over what’s hers and warn you away.” Flo quirked a brow. “You have to go now, you know that, right?”

  Sighing, I looked from Flo to Dennis, who nodded in agreement, his lips pressed tight. “I know.”

  Willa

  Cars lined the street and spilled out of the driveway, the most noticeable being the large black truck parked right in front of the double garage.

  I’d scored a parking spot five doors up outside Mr. McMahon’s place, who, judging by the faded garden gnomes, still seemed to live there. Then I’d sat in my car for a solid ten minutes before I finally found enough courage to see this through.

  It was strange, almost as if I’d stepped back in time, to be walking up to the house I’d spent most of my childhood and adolescence in. Save for a new roof and updated gardens and plantation shutters, not much about the two-story home had changed. At least, not from the outside.

  Being that it would likely be a semi-formal event, even if it was held at home, I’d donned a silken black dress that reached mid-thigh, brown sandals, and a brown floral kimono. My hair fell in loose waves around my shoulders, and I’d kept the makeup minimal with just a touch of mascara and a nude lip balm in case my emotions got the better of me.

  Reaching the door, I could hear the laughter and chatter inside, and hesitated with my finger over the doorbell.

  I decided against it. The last thing I wanted was to draw anymore unwanted attention to myself than necessary.

  As soundlessly as possible, not that many would hear it with the steady hum of music and voices, I closed the door behind me.

  Some of my parents’ friends stopped talking as I passed the formal living area on my way to the kitchen. I kept my head up, a smile in place, and some familiar faces even smiled back.

  I made it to the kitchen without anyone stopping me and thought about running upstairs to hide in my old room. Nostalgia gripped my heart in a fist, squeezing, and then the sound of a drill and the click of a lock scattered any fond memories.

  “You made it,” a velvet deep voice crooned from behind me.

  I was busying myself with pouring a glass of much-needed champagne. “I did.”

  Jackson leaned against the counter, his scent overbearing and his crisp slate gray dress shirt bunching against the new marble countertop. “I didn’t think you’d have it in you.”

  I chose not to respond, and instead, I drank a greedy gulp of Moet.

  “Have you seen your mother yet?”

  I shook my head, setting the glass down when I realized I’d drained half of it. I had to drive, and I needed my wits about me to make it through this in one battered piece.

  “Where’s the sass now?” He continued to poke.

  Ainsley’s laughter reached my ears, and I finally allowed my eyes to drift up the expanse of his muscled chest to meet his. “I think I lost some when your fiancée paid me a visit yesterday.”

  Thick brows drew in. “What?”

  Licking the sour-sweet from my lips, I slid my thumb beneath my bottom lip. “You heard me.” Seemingly dumbfounded, I left him there, my limbs growing warm as I waded through the crowd of colleagues, church goers, and family friends to find Heath in the family room.

  Sitting in a wheelchair, he nursed a beer, staring at the TV while Glen, one of his golfing buddies, tried to talk to him. His leg was propped up, a bla
nket concealing most of it, his gaze weighted with dark shadows.

  “Willa?”

  My eyes closed, and I sucked in a quick breath before releasing it as I reopened them.

  Heath was smiling now, and I smiled back, then felt it droop when the person who’d called my name came into view.

  Tears welled in her eyes, and her hands fluttered before her as if she’d reach out and touch me, but thought better of it. “My girl,” she breathed.

  “Woman,” I said, barely a sound, forgetting that other people surrounded us. I said it again when her brows creased with confusion. “I’m a woman now.” I held out my glass of champagne for emphasis, taking a sip.

  Sucking her lips, Victoria nodded. “And what a beautiful woman you are.”

  I almost choked, coughing a little. Was she being serious? How could she, after all this time, after the way she’d treated me like I was some abomination, act as though none of it had happened?

  “I won’t be staying long,” I said.

  “At least stay for some food. We had a gorgeous cake made, too.” Her eyes popped. “I would’ve asked you, but you never—”

  “It’s fine.”

  She nodded again, then glanced around. “Do you mind if we talk?”

  “Not here, and I’m not ready.” I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready, but for whatever reason, I didn’t have the heart to crush hers. For no matter what she’d done, what she’d been capable of, she still had one.

  Gazing at me with sorrow deepening the lines of her forehead, pulling at her mouth, and filling her eyes, she didn’t move. Not until one of her friends came and collected her, saying it was time for the speech.

  Draining my glass, I placed it on the entertainment unit and ducked my head, giving myself and the tightness in my throat a moment.

  Cutlery met glass, and I straightened, turning to find Jackson leaning against the other side of the entryway, mere feet from me.

  He forced his attention to my mother, and we all listened as she stood on a chair, her Louboutins below it on the floor, and prattled on about how delicate life was, and how thankful she was that her husband was home, on the road to recovery.