Sterling

by Foster , Delaney

Jayce reached out and caught my hand in his. “I’ll get it. You sit with her.”

  “Are you sure?”

  He started up the stairs. “You said it’s in the bathroom?” he questioned over his shoulder. Guess he was sure.

  “Yes. In a little white box with her initials on top. She keeps it in her linen closet.”

  A few minutes later, Jayce returned with the box and a smile. He held it out in front of him. “Is this it?”

  “That’s the one.” My hand brushed his when I took the box. Tiny, electric shockwaves shot through my fingers and over my body, settling right at the bottom of my stomach with the butterflies. It was like they were breeding in there—creating hundreds more little butterflies. I stilled for a moment then pulled my hand away.

  “I should probably get back to the fence.”

  I nodded, and he turned toward the door. I stopped him just as he grabbed the handle. “Hey, Jayce.” He turned to face me. “Thank you,” I told him. “You know, for being here.”

  He smiled, and I loved the way it crinkled the skin around his eyes. “Anytime.”

  I helped Gram sew up the tiny hole in her favorite blanket then sat with her until she fell asleep. She’d stressed a little because the thread colors didn’t match perfectly, but I promised her it added character, and that seemed to calm her down.

  It was a little after noon and I was starving. Jayce had to be hungry too. I made two ham and cheese sandwiches and filled a Ziploc bag full of Campfire Caviar. Then I took a blanket from the hall closet and headed outside.

  The fence looked good. It looked really good. Not a single white picket board looked like it didn’t belong with the originals. Was there anything this man couldn’t do? He tossed the brush onto a paint tray when he saw me coming down the brick walkway then wiped his face with the T-shirt that was draped over his shoulder. My eyes fell to a thin stripe of white paint on his chest. That stripe was like a magnet, and my fingers were filled with lead. I reached forward without thinking and ran my finger over it.

  My pulse raced at the contact, and my body buzzed. I might as well have just touched an electric fence. “You, um… got a little…”

  He grinned. “I thought I’d make a statement.”

  “Oh? And what statement is that? I’m a horrible painter.”

  Jayce pulled the shirt from his shoulder and twisted it into a tight line. He narrowed his eyes and tucked his chin to his chest. I knew that look. I’d seen it a hundred times. He was going to pop my butt with that shirt, and I was not about to have it.

  Oh, no you don’t. I held one hand up to stop him. “Wait. I brought food,” I shrieked just as he lifted and pulled his elbow into position.

  He dropped his hand and winked at me. “The way to a man’s heart.”

  I heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief and he laughed. “I thought we could go sit in the backyard. In our spot. Maybe have a picnic.” I tilted my head toward the blanket on my arm.

  His mouth spread into a wide grin. “I think I’d like that.”

  He pulled his shirt over his head and followed me around to the back of the house. I mouthed a thank you to heaven, because I wasn’t sure how much I could concentrate on eating with all that bare skin and muscle in my face. Then again, I wasn’t sure I wanted to concentrate on eating at all. My emotions were a tangled mess after last night, and I didn’t know which way was up anymore.

  “Is that Campfire Caviar?” Jayce asked once we’d spread the blanket under the big oak tree and sat down. He opened the bag and stuck his hand inside.

  “You can’t eat dessert first,” I argued.

  Jayce shoved a handful into his mouth in defiance, and I shook my head and laughed. He laid on his side, stretching his long legs across the blanket then crossing them at the ankle. His feet hung over the end into the grass. I memorized every inch of his face. He was very much a man, but I still saw so much of the boy I fell in love with. The one little dimple that showed when he lifted the corner of his mouth. Those long, thick eyelashes that every girl wished they were born with. And the way he looked at me when he wanted to tell me something but was too afraid to say it. Like the way he looked at me now.

  “I’m sorry. About what happened in there earlier,” I said, finally.

  He rested his hand on top of mine. “Don’t ever feel like you have to apologize for that. I understand more than you could know.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Had he known about my gram all along? Of course, he had. He stayed at the B&B with the town busybody for crying out loud. But how did he understand? Had he been visiting Gram when he visited his dad? I had so many questions.

  Jayce set the bag of snack mix to the side and sat up straight. He looked down at the blanket like he didn’t know exactly how to answer me. When he looked back up, his eyes were full of pain, full of regret. “There’s something I need to tell you.” He swallowed hard then continued, “About why I left.”

  My heart froze in my chest, and I was suddenly not very hungry anymore.

  I cursed myself for saying those words. The look on Claire’s face made me want to take them back, but it was too late. The damage was done, and there was no going back.

  She pulled her hand from under mine and scooted back on the blanket. That’s the opposite of what I wanted. I wished I could open up my chest and let her climb inside. I wished I could hold her in my arms and comfort her. Anything to soften the blow of what I was going to say.

  “My nana died when I was seven,” I started. Right before Claire became a permanent fixture in my life. Might as well go ahead and dive in headfirst. Claire’s face softened, but she didn’t move or respond. “I don’t remember everything about her, but what happened in there,” I pointed toward her gram’s house. “I’ve been there. I’ve seen it before.”

  Her eyes widened with recognition. “Oh, Jayce, I’m so sorry.”

  “No, I’m the one who’s sorry.”

  “I can’t imagine what it was like living with that as a child.” Her brows bunched together in confusion. “But what does any of this have to do with me? With us? Why are you sorry?”

  I paused for a second, forcing away the knot clenching my stomach. “Natalie was my aunt’s name. She died when she was little, so I never knew her, but…” I wasn’t even sure how to say it. Claire stared at me in stunned silence, her mouth fell open as she drank in my words. “My nana—”

  Tears filled her eyes. “Was the lady with the ice cream. She thought I was her Natalie. Your nana is the one who took me that day.” Her voice was hardly above a whisper.

  “I didn’t know, Claire. I swear, I didn’t know. That day, the day I found out, was the worst day of my life.” I didn’t even recognize my own voice. My words were rushed and frantic. “I was at Miss Myra’s, helping hang some lights, and she said how happy she was that you and I were together in spite of all the trouble my family had caused. I had no idea what she meant. Then, when I knew… when she told me… I couldn’t bring myself to tell you. So I held it in. I kept it secret. And that secret felt so heavy every time I looked at you. I almost couldn’t bear to carry it.” I took a deep breath. Claire stared at me in silence. The tears fell from her eyes. I wanted so badly to reach over and wipe them away, but I was so afraid to touch her, afraid of her reaction, afraid she’d push me away. Instead, I continued. “Then one night we were at the woods and you’d fallen asleep against my chest. You woke up shaking and told me you’d had a nightmare, that you had them a lot. That’s when I knew I had to leave. How could I ever face you? Expect you to love me? After knowing it was my nana that ruined your life.” My hands trembled. This was it. Claire knew the truth. And I’d never been so terrified in all my life. I wiped my sweaty palms against the denim fabric of my jeans. “I couldn’t tell you. And I sure as shit couldn’t lie to you anymore. So I did what an eighteen-year-old boy thought was best. I left. And I’m so sorry, Claire. I’m so fucking sorry.”

  The silence was deafening. I almost c
ouldn’t take it. I wanted to hold her. I wanted to comfort her. I wanted to take it all away. She wiped her cheeks and stood.

  I couldn’t breathe. I’d lost her all over again.

  “I should check on Gram,” she said as she brushed a fallen hair from in front of her face.

  Her eyes were still glossed over with tears waiting to be shed and her cheeks flushed with pink splotches, but she was as breathtaking as she’d ever been. I hated myself in that moment. All I could do was nod and watch as she walked back to the house.

  “Jayce? Jayce Sterling? Is that you?” Her gram’s voice interrupted the silence from the back porch.

  I threw my hand up and waved, and Claire kept walking. “Yes ma’am. Good afternoon, Mrs. Cunningham.”

  The older woman shook her head and smiled. “Now, you know better than that. Gram. You call me Gram.”

  I chuckled under my breath then stood to my feet. “Yes, ma’am.” I was relieved to see she felt better. I was sure she had Claire to thank for that.

  “Claire Bear?” Gram shielded her eyes with her hand and leaned her head forward.

  Claire stopped at the bottom of the steps that led to the back porch. “Yes, Gram?”

  “I thought we might make a pie. Millie Wilson brought me some fresh pecans. I’m sure Jayce won’t mind you coming inside for a minute.” She smiled and winked at me.

  Claire looked over her shoulder at me and the pain in her eyes made me flinch. Pecan pie was my favorite. Everyone knew that, and there wasn’t a person in the world that could make it better than Gram.

  “It’s okay. We were done anyway,” Claire said, and I felt the sting of her words all the way to my bones.

  I watched her follow her Gram inside, and my heart sank to my stomach. She was gone. The truth pushed her away. And I wasn’t sure I’d ever be able to pull her back.

  Thirteen years. Heartbreak. Confusion. Pain. If Jayce had just told me the truth, if we would’ve talked about it, so many things would be different now.

  Then he wouldn’t be who he is.

  A twinge of guilt gnawed at me for wanting to turn back time. Jayce had made something of his life, and I was proud of him. He deserved every bit of his success. It was selfish of me to want to take that back, to wish we’d have stayed two small town kids with nothing but our dreams and each other. But we’d have had each other.

  Could we still have each other? He was here now. I was here now. We’d been given a second chance. He was asking for a second chance. Was I strong enough to give it to him? To let the past be the past?

  Gram already had the pie crust out on the counter when we walked into the kitchen. She opened the Ziploc bag full of pecans and began spreading them over the bottom of the crust. I grabbed two eggs and the rest of the ingredients.

  “It’s so nice to see you and Jayce under that old tree again. Just like old times,” Gram said with a smile that brightened her eyes.

  I swallowed the lump in my throat and began whisking the eggs. She remembered things that right now I wished I could forget.

  “That was a long time ago, Gram. Things are different now. We’re different now.”

  She handed me a bowl of melted butter. “Things can be different. People can even be different. But love—love doesn’t change.”

  I poured the butter in with the eggs and added dark corn syrup and vanilla. “I wish it was that simple.”

  He left me when I needed him. He lied to me when I thought he was the one thing I could depend on.

  Sunlight flooded the room through the open blinds. My eyes moved to the bay window, and I saw Jayce by the fence. He was so ruggedly handsome. The guy in the T-shirt and jeans with his hair a mess and unshaved chin was just a stronger, sexier version of the boy who used to stand on Gram’s front porch and wait for my silent permission to kiss me. I’d cradle his jaw in my hand and look up at him with expectant eyes. My thumb would graze the rough stubble on his chin, and he’d know. He’d know exactly what I wanted. I missed that. I missed him.

  I missed us.

  I finished whisking the mixture and started to pour it over the pecans, but Gram stopped me. “Not yet. There’s one more thing,” she said.

  Then she pulled a jar of cinnamon from the cabinet and shook some into the palm of her hand. She pinched a little at a time and sprinkled it into the bowl.

  I pulled my brows together in confusion. “I didn’t know you put cinnamon in your pecan pie.”

  She laughed then took the bowl from my hands. “Remember when you were little, and Mrs. Thompson would always bring a plate full of gingerbread cookies for Christmas?”

  I did. My mother always smiled and told the woman how much I’d loved them when the truth was that I didn’t like them at all. They were dry and crumbled after the first bite.

  I nodded, and Gram continued. “Your mother swore it was the cinnamon. That you hated cinnamon because she did too.” Gram chuckled to herself as she poured the mixture over the pecans. “I think she even had you believing it.”

  She placed the pie on a baking sheet, and I opened the oven for her. “But you loved my pecan pie so much. I knew if you found out I put cinnamon in it, you’d convince yourself it wasn’t any good. And you loved it too much for me to take that away.”

  She was right. I never really knew why, but I’d spent my whole life believing I hated cinnamon without honestly remembering ever having tasted it. “I can’t believe I didn’t know this,” I said.

  Gram put the pie in the oven then grabbed my hand. “Not all secrets are kept to hurt people, Claire Bear. Sometimes we keep secrets out of love.”

  I looked out the window at Jayce, and my heart sank. Her secret wasn’t nearly as monumental as the one Jayce had kept, but the reason behind it was the same. Thank you, Gram.

  Gram was in her chair, settled into a brand-new book—something about a servant woman who befriends her employer’s wealthy neighbor. If Fences Were Mirrors. Every now and then, Gram laughed to herself. Good to see you’re never too old to make imaginary friends. The pie sat cooling on the kitchen counter. Jayce painted the fence while I stole glances at him every time I passed an open window.

  I wasn’t sure I could stay at the B&B anymore. Not just because of Jayce, but because after today, I wanted to spend more time with Gram. I wanted to be closer to her. I called Annie to let her know I’d be spending the next few nights here, so she didn’t have to.

  “I’ll be back in a few minutes. I just need to go get some things from the B&B,” I told Gram.

  She looked up from her book and smiled. I leaned down to kiss her cheek. My gram was still in there. I saw it in her eyes and heard it in her wisdom. We hadn’t completely lost her yet.

  Jayce watched every step I took from the front porch to the driver’s side of the car. My eyes met his intense gaze, and I wanted to cave, to give in and forget it all— the secrets, the lies, the pain. None of it mattered when I looked at him. Instead, I opened the door, climbed inside, and pulled out of the driveway without saying a word.

  Mrs. Abraham was glad to hear that I would be staying in Clover Creek for a while longer, but sad to see me leave the B&B. I assured her that we would be spending plenty of time together planning the Fourth of July event.

  I stopped and stared at the door as I walked past Jayce’s room. There would be no more kitchen shenanigans. No more dinners. No more kissing on the front lawn in the pouring rain. He wouldn’t carry me up the stairs and make me want to do things with him that they can’t show on prime time TV. And prime time TV was pretty racy these days.

  My fingertips brushed the outside of his door. I knew he wasn’t in there. I’d just left him at my gram’s. But an overwhelming urge to open that door and step inside tugged at my gut. I just wanted to be close to him, to any part of him. I wanted to climb in his bed just to smell his sheets. He wasn’t even gone, and I missed him already. I took one more look at the closed wooden door, then I went to my room and started packing my things.

  He pulled in
to the driveway just as I loaded my suitcase into the trunk of Gram’s car. So much for running. My getaway plan fell to pieces the minute he stepped out of his SUV and stood behind me. Maybe it was for the best. I’d spent the last thirteen years running. I supposed it was time to stop.

  “You’re leaving?” he asked, and the pain in his voice cut right through me.

  Don’t turn around. This will be easier if you don’t have to look at him.

  I turned to face him. Idiot.

  His eyes held mine captive. My voice froze in my throat. I couldn’t speak. I wanted to run back inside and hide, but I couldn’t move. Jayce had me pinned down with his dark golden gaze. My mouth went dry. I wet my lips, hoping that would help me speak. His eyes fell to my mouth, and my heart raced.

  I swallowed hard. “I think I should stay with Gram.”

  “Because of me.” His words were both a statement and a question.

  All or nothing, right? Come on, Claire. You can do this. Rip it off. Like a Band-aid. Why does he keep looking at me like that? Doesn’t he know I can’t think when he does that?

  I forced myself to look away from him. “I don’t know.” I closed my eyes. “Okay, yes. At first.” I took a deep breath and opened them again. “Then I thought about it, and Gram needs me right now. And honestly, I need her.” I thought about our earlier conversation, and how her words helped me understand so much. I’d missed that.

  “Claire—” Jayce took a step forward, but I held up a hand to stop him.

  “Wait. There’s something I need to say,” I interrupted him.

  He straightened his shoulders and cleared his throat, like he needed to prepare himself for my words.

  “How long did you know?” I asked and he flinched.

  His jaw twitched as it clenched. “I found out at the end of our Sophomore year.”

  I did the math in my head. That was a year and a half before he left. “You should’ve told me.”

  He reached for my hand, but I quickly tucked my arm behind my back. He flinched again as if the gesture physically pained him. I knew how that felt. It pained me too.