Hothouse Flower (Sound of Silence Series, Book Three)

by Taylor Dean

  But my marriage to Asher brought Brit into my world and I’ll always be thankful for that reason alone. I’m relieved every second of every day that I am now free of him. I’ve never met a more selfish and egocentric man. It was his best kept secret though and it took me awhile to see through his façade.

  I don’t want to think about mistakes right now. I’ve brushed off the dust Asher left behind long ago. He’s like a day old newspaper, the one that gets tossed in the trash because it’s no longer relevant. Old news.

  I didn’t let Asher destroy me. I refused to let him exert his will over mine. I survived and I’m wiser and stronger because of the experience.

  Jace is another story, however. He knocked me down in ways I’m sure I’ll never recover from.

  Jace isn’t Asher and Asher isn’t Jace. They are two very different chapters in my life. The Book of Asher is closed and done. The Book of Jace still has a cute little bookmark sitting in it, marking my place, waiting for me to finish. Unresolved feelings have a way of holding me hostage.

  I don’t use my mixer to whip the frosting for the cakes as usual. I whip it by hand and let out all of my aggression into the task. Take that, Jace Faraday. It feels good and I whip faster and faster as a few beads of frosting splash out and land on the backsplash. I don’t care and I . . .

  “Shay?”

  I freeze, compose myself, and turn around with a smile. “Yes, Tracy?”

  “Are you okay?”

  No, not at all. “Yeah, I’m fine.” Such a lie. I look down and notice little bits of frosting are splattered on my apron.

  “Why aren’t you using the mixer?”

  Good question. “Just thought I’d whip the frosting by hand today. It turns out better that way.”

  “It does?”

  No. “Yep.”

  “Okay. My shift just ended. I’m leaving now.”

  “All right, thanks, Tracy. See you tomorrow.”

  She gives me a strange look and turns to leave. I don’t know why. Just because I was murdering the frosting as if I was a madwoman or something. It deserved to die.

  And so does every thought and emotion concerning Jace Faraday. I need to kill my feelings and bury them. Deep into the earth. Never to be seen again.

  When I finally arrive home that evening, I find my beautiful daughter splayed out on the living room floor, surrounded by Legos and puzzles.

  “Yellow,” Brit says, capturing my attention and taking it away from the presence across the street. She’s insisting upon making each tower of Legos with only one color. Her current favorite is yellow. The red and blue towers are set off to the side as if they’re not allowed to be near the preferred yellow tower. She’ll be two in just a few months and her little personality is certainly making itself manifest.

  I adore that girl. Without her, I would be lost. She is the light of my life and the only good thing that came out of my short marriage to Asher. When I look at her, I see myself. There’s nothing of Asher in her. She has my dark hair and my blue eyes. It’s not until I look at her that I realize what a striking combination it is.

  I hear an engine rumble and my head jerks up as my eyes immediately fly to the window. I know I’m hoping for another glimpse of Jace, but I’m sadly disappointed. I curse myself and vow to wash that man right out of my hair. Seriously. He’s my kryptonite.

  In spite of my good intentions, I find myself rubber necking for the next hour. I just want another glimpse of the man that haunts my dreams. After four Lego tower configurations and six puzzles, I’m rewarded for my persistence. I get to my feet as my body tingles with nerves and approach the window.

  He’s sitting on the front porch, basking in the remaining sunlight of a brisk February evening. I don’t blame him, I’m craving some warm rays on my skin too. According to a certain pesky groundhog, six more weeks of winter was in our forecast. Three down, three to go. I’m not happy about that.

  I’m trying to not be happy about Jace’s close proximity either. But my racing pulse betrays me.

  He’s sitting with his legs propped up and his arms folded. I could swear he’s staring directly into our living room window with the most piercing gaze he owns. He can’t possibly see me from where he sits, still I hover a few feet away from the window, not daring to move closer and return his scrutiny. I wonder what he’s thinking about.

  There’s so much that separates us and it has nothing to do with the slice of glass that comprises the window or the stretch of lawn in our front yards or the neighborhood street that runs between our homes.

  “Dinner will be ready soon, Shay. Will you check the mail for me? I’ll watch over Brit.”

  I glance at Mom, but her eyes are glued to the crochet hook in front of her, moving through the yarn faster than I can comprehend what she’s doing. Still, I wonder if she’s playing matchmaker. I wonder if she notices how fascinated I am by the house across the street all of a sudden.

  Of course she knows. She knows how much I loved Jace Faraday. She knows I still love him.

  If I go outside to check the mail, I will end up face to face with Jace. His eyes will be on me and mine on him. The thought unsettles me. I’m not sure I’m ready for a heart to heart with him. Not at all.

  It’s been six years. He’s never tried to contact me, not by phone, text, email, Facebook, Twitter, or Instagram. I even made my Facebook public with him in mind. If he’d wanted to communicate, social media would have made it easy for him. Just a few typewritten words and the ice would’ve been broken. The only thing I’ve heard from Jace is complete and utter silence, a silence so loud it makes my ears ring.

  He certainly didn’t try to come see me in person either. I had a tiny seed of hope that he’d show up and apologize profusely, begging for forgiveness. I hoped he’d have some type of logical explanation for his actions. I knew I was living in a dream world, but the hope was still there. After I ended things between us, I daydreamed constantly of suddenly turning around and seeing him behind me. There were times when I was positive he was there, watching me. It was downright eerie. I could feel his presence so strongly, I could literally smell his aftershave. I would whirl around, my long dark hair whipping my face, hope flourishing in my heart, and his name ready to slip off my tongue.

  He was never there. Disappointment became my best friend and constant companion.

  If he wanted to see me over the past several years, he’s had ample opportunity. I’m not going to go out there and make it easy for him.

  “Uh, I think I’ll check it later, Mom. I’m gonna give Brit her bath before dinner.”

  “Okay.” She doesn’t look up, so why do I feel as though she’s disappointed in me? Where’s my stern stuff?

  Even though it’s been six years and my time with Jace Faraday should be a thing of the past, it hangs over me like there’s a huge question mark taking up space in my brain. It’s as if that cute little bookmark is still sitting there marking my place, and the book was really intriguing, but I never had the opportunity to finish it and as a result, I’m constantly wondering about the ending.

  Mom doesn’t need to say it. I know why she wants me to face him. It has nothing to do with matchmaking and everything to do with finishing a chapter of my life and closing the book. Then it’s time to give the book away once and for all.

  I have to face him at some point. It’s inevitable with him living across the street once again. Maybe it’s best to put on my big girl pants and get it over with. Dad always used to say, “You can mow the lawn happy or you can mow the lawn sad. Either way, you still have to mow the lawn.” The same principle applies now. This is something I have to do, whether I’m happy or sad about it. I just need to do it.

  “On second thought, maybe I’ll go ahead and check the mail right now while it’s still light out.” There’s my stern stuff finally making an appearance. Yes, I’m proud of myself for saying I’ll go outside and check the mail.

  “All right,” Mom says distractedly. I’m not fooled. She
’s paying attention to my every move.

  Okay. Decision made. Here I go.

  This is it. I’m going to go out front. I’m going to casually go to the mailbox to get the mail and see what happens. Let the events unfold as they may.

  I admit that I put up a brave front for family and friends. I admit that I’ve let anger be my primary emotion when it comes to Jace Faraday. I hide behind biting remarks much too often. They don’t reflect my inner feelings. They’re just daggers sent out to protect the fortress. I am the queen of that fortress; Queen Marshmallow.

  I am angry with Jace, but my anger toward him stems from unresolved feelings. On one hand, I almost hate him for what he did. On the other hand, I love him so much it hurts.

  Of course, I’m the one who ended our relationship. I couldn’t forgive him for betraying me. It cut to the bone and I just couldn’t excuse his behavior. A relationship needs to be filled with trust and poof, it was suddenly gone. I know there are women out there who forgive their men for straying. They don’t give up and they hold tight to what they have. They make it work.

  I’m not one of those women. To me, a break in our trust is as damaging to us as a couple as an earthquake is to the land we stand on.

  That being said, one sincere apology would’ve been worth a thousand groveling words. Neither one ever came my way. Perhaps I could’ve been one of those women who forgive, if only he’d shown major remorse. I’ll never know the answer because it never happened.

  I wanted him to come after me. I wanted him to apologize profusely and beg for forgiveness. Instead, I got nothing. Just silence that journeyed through the airwaves, bounced off the moon and traveled back to the earth over and over again. His silence destroyed me. It spoke louder than words and I received the message loud and clear. I probably saved him from a messy break up scene. I guess I did him a favor by accidentally witnessing his new life up close and personal. No explanation was needed. His actions said it all and he knew it.

  “I’ll be right back, Brit.” She’s so busy playing, she doesn’t even respond. She could be locked in a padded room and not be bored. Her imagination impresses me.

  “Let him have it,” Mom says quietly as I open the door.

  I glance at her with surprise. She’s always on my side and I love her for it. But I’m not sure what she thinks I’m going to do. Go yell at Jace for something that happened so long ago? That seems silly.

  And yet, the thought is in my heart as well because it feels as though it just happened yesterday. Unresolved issues have a way of festering. They become ugly black monsters inside of us. Mine is big enough to hop out and hide under my bed. And I’m scared of it.

  I’m not sure what I hope to achieve. I just want to see Jace, to talk to him, to absorb him. I want to know how he makes me feel, if there’s still an ever-present spark between us. I know I’m on dangerous ground. We are no longer teenagers with an eyebrow raising age difference. We aren’t college students with futures to prepare for and expectations to be met. We are now adults with careers of our own. We’re free to do whatever we please. Even though my love for him has never vanished, I know I could never let go of what he did to me and renew our relationship. I don’t have it in me.

  Do I? I’m not sure. I know he’s my weakness, my big fat Achilles’ heel. Someone help me, I’m a walking contradiction.

  Regardless . . . I want to see him. I need to see him. Maybe it’s just curiosity. Or maybe not.

  I don’t care what it is. I’m going to face him.

  CHAPTER

  Two

  MY EMOTIONS ARE all over the place as I stroll down the front sidewalk. I fake nonchalance, as though I’m not a hot mess on the inside. I walk purposefully with a slight sway in my steps. He doesn’t need to know that I could roll myself down the sidewalk because I’m a human ball of sadness when it comes to him.

  No, he doesn’t need to know any of that. Instead, I call on my stern stuff and it appears just when I need it the most. There’s one thing I learned from Jace Faraday and that’s how to pick myself up and move on. I should be thanking him.

  I pretend I don’t know he’s there, sitting on his porch, watching my every move. I know he is. I can feel the weight of his stare. Will he acknowledge me or will he let bygones be bygones? I don’t even know what I want to happen, I just know I want something to happen. Even if it’s just a wave or a smile or a friendly hello.

  No, that’s not true. I’ll be disappointed if he simply treats me like an old friend. I deserve more than that. I’m the girl he left behind, the one he promised to marry one day. Surely, I still mean something to him. Does the memory of young love still tug at his heart the way it does mine?

  My back is to him as I open the mailbox and slowly sort through the mail, taking my time as if each piece of junk mail is fascinating. My heart is racing and my blood is pumping through my veins at an accelerated rate. I’ve been waiting for this for a very long time. It’s finally here, the moment when I will turn around and he really will be there.

  “Shay?”

  My eyes close of their own accord as I silently hope for the strength to face him. I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist talking to me. I knew it. His voice is deep and controlled, commanding and yet soft. Just as I remember it. I’ve always found the sound of his voice comforting.

  I don’t whip around like I always thought I would. I open my eyes and turn very slowly to face him. He’s standing on the sidewalk, staring at me as if he’s seeing a ghost.

  Our eyes meet and an involuntary gasp escapes me. Whenever he used to look at me, he always made me feel as though I was the only woman in the world—and that hasn’t changed a bit. I can’t look away. I don’t want to look away. I want to drown in his penetrating gaze. Heaven help me, the mere sight of him leaves me weak at the knees. I stand there trapped in his eyes and say absolutely nothing. NOTHING. Like a speechless idiot.

  The air sizzles between us as if it recognizes our connection. After all this time, how can our first meeting feel so incredibly intense? I didn’t want just a casual hello, but I also didn’t expect a powerful encounter that speaks for itself in ways I’m not ready to acknowledge.

  I wondered if there would still be a spark between us and now I know. It’s not a spark, it’s a flaming inferno. If I’m not careful, I will get burned.

  This is so very unwise. A man who cheats will cheat again. It’s almost a guarantee, right? He has never even married. What does that say about him?

  It says he’s a player, that’s what. He’s a man who can’t commit to just one woman. He broke my heart once, am I really going to let him do it again?

  No. No I’m not. The last time I saw him wanders through my mind and rouses my anger. I know I’m going to say something I’ll regret, but it’s high time I break the silence between us anyway. I never had my chance to tell him what a louse he was for CHEATING ON ME. This is my opportunity. The wind blows my long hair over my face and I push it away.

  “That crazy Texas wind is sure blowing in a lot of dirt today. I think I got some in my eye.” Take that, Jace Faraday.

  Jace is utterly still for a moment. Then he shakes his head and chuckles at my words. That’s when I know he’s still my Jace. It’s so easy to prompt a smile and laughter out of him. Even though I just insulted him, I should have known he’d respond with humor. It’s the thing about him I always loved the most.

  He folds his arms across his chest. “Just to clarify, when you say dirt, do you mean me?”

  “You know I do.”

  He puts his hands on his heart as if he has been wounded. “Ouch. Quit trying to be a spitfire. You can’t fool me, Shay Randall. I know you’re a softie.”

  He used to say that to me all the time. Hearing it again dredges up memories and makes me want to sit down and cry. Or maybe punch him in the face. The jury is still out.

  My tough girl act is so fake. I’m the Pillsbury dough girl on the inside. The thing is, Jace knows it, which gives him the upper hand.


  I purposefully blink, a slow blink, just so I’m not staring so intently at him. His jet black hair is combed back on his head and his brown eyes are all for me. He’s older, more mature, a man instead of the young boy I once knew. I always knew he’d age well and he certainly has. His masculinity is much more potent, his aura screams confidence, and his eyes are filled with experience. He’s come into his own and has an air of success about him. He’s tall, trim, and fit, and I’m sure he spends his selfish life working out at the gym every day. He’s always been a handsome man, but I won’t let that fact sway me. At least I’ll try not to. I swallow every single heart racing emotion he conjures in me and say coolly, “The prodigal son returns. This is quite the day.”

  Jace spreads his arms. “No fatted calf and no fanfare. On a scale of one to ten, this day gets a negative two. The welcome committee just made up for that though.”

  My eyes narrow. “Just to be clear, when you say welcome committee, do you mean me?”

  Jace throws his head back and laughs out loud. I die a thousand deaths at the sight.

  “It’s good to see you, Ladybug.”

  I keep myself from cringing. It’s been so long since I’ve heard that name from his lips. “Don’t call me that.” I’ll never admit that I love his nickname for me. He used to make me laugh so hard that my face would turn bright red, hence the nickname Ladybug.

  “Guess I’ll have to earn the right to call you that again, huh?”

  “Not gonna happen.” My new mantra wanders through my mind, I am thick and inaccessible. Impassable. I will not turn into the Ladybug again.

  “We’ll see.” He smiles warmly, completely undeterred by my prickly greeting. I’m sure he’s wondering why my laughter is absent.

  I’ve never met anyone who made me laugh like Jace could. There was just something unique about him. When he left my presence, I always felt as though I deflated a bit, as if life was back to being a serious event once again.

  Without him, life has definitely turned black and white. I long for the color he brought into my life.