The Wayward Sons: Starlee's Heart: WhyChoose Contemporary Young Adult Romance

by Angel Lawson

  “You don’t have to,” I reply, but I’m relieved.

  “It’s no problem.”

  It’s cooled off tremendously now that the sun has set, but my body is warm because I’m flanked by these two brothers. It’s the weirdest feeling to have companions—friends—boy-slash-friends. The biggest of my mother’s rules broken yet here I am, surviving and maybe even thriving.

  We wind past the cottages and it’s no surprise that the most noise comes from the big one with Jordan and his friends. They’re hanging out by the fire pit, bottles of beer scattered on the picnic table. I’m not fearful of the scene, maybe just jealous how they all hang out with such ease. I do notice that Charlie’s shoulders seem to expand as we walk by and George walks a step closer to my side. Did he tell his brother what happened earlier? Is that why they’re both here?

  “I wonder how late Ms. Nye will let them go before telling them to quiet down?” Charlie asks as we pass.

  I feel silly thinking Jordan is watching me, so I don’t look to check. Paranoia is a bad thing.

  “I think there’s a ten p.m. rule,” I say.

  We approach the steps to my house. “Call us if you need any help with them, okay?” George says.

  “Thank Sierra for letting me come for dinner.”

  “We will.”

  It’s the oddest moment, me standing on the porch just after dark—it’s like a date but there’s two boys in front of me and neither are my dates, thank goodness, because who would I pick over the other?

  I retreat to the house and from behind the closed door, watch them through the window as they walk back down the path.

  “Starlee? Is that you?”

  “Yes.” I walk into the living room, where Leelee’s watching the news.

  “Did you have fun?”

  “I really did.”

  She gives me a warm smile. “Good.”

  I return her smile because she’s right. It is good.

  “Your mom called while you were out.”

  The lightness vanishes. “Oh, what did you say?”

  “That you were busy with some homework.”

  “You lied?” Grandmothers aren’t supposed to lie. Or at least, I think that’s the case.

  “I did. And I’d do it again. Hanging out with those boys makes you happy. Happier than I’ve seen you since you got here.”

  I lean against the wall. “Should I call her?”

  “Maybe in the morning. She needs to learn to let go a little bit. Give you space to breathe.”

  I nod and say goodnight. My mother didn’t send me out here to breathe. She sent me to the one place that made her suffocate—to teach me that being with her isn’t so bad after all. Unfortunately, she’s wrong. About so many things, and I’m discovering exactly how much every day.

  15

  I’m a little worried when I wake the next morning that Jake may not be there. He’d left so abruptly the morning before but seemed fine last night. Maybe boys were temperamental?

  But he’s waiting for me in the yard and I notice the glint of pleasure in his eyes when he notices I’m carrying the book to continue reading. When we pass the final business before the school he says, “I’m sorry if I seemed weird yesterday morning.”

  “It’s okay. I had a feeling the other guys didn’t know about our early morning meet ups.”

  “I’m not trying to keep anything from them.”

  “Of course not.”

  “I just…I don’t know. It’s awkward.”

  Oh. Right. It’s awkward being with me. Obviously. Why would this hot, funny, athlete want to hang out with me in the mornings? Reading books of all things. He’s embarrassed by me. I blink back the sting of tears and try to breathe past the lump in my throat. I’m just glad it’s still dark.

  I realize, despite my mental breakdown, he’s still talking. “…it’s not like I hid it from them. They know I’m not the best student and I know they’d help me if I asked, but it’s humiliating. I was so embarrassed at first when you saw me up there. It was the only time of day I felt like I could settle my brain and work on the summer assignments given to me by my teacher.” His elbow bumps mine. “It’s like a guardian angel dropped you into my lap—or, well—the yard next door.”

  We’ve arrived at our boulder and Jake scrambles up the rock easily before reaching down to help me up. At the top we stand face-to-face, his eyes bright and hopeful, while I’m confused as hell.

  “You think I’m a guardian angel?”

  “Like Castiel, but prettier.”

  My cheeks burn at that. I haven’t met Castiel on the show yet, but I’ve seen his autographed photo on the shelf at their house. And did he just call me pretty?

  “I’ve never been able to talk to anyone about my dyslexia before. I always just felt so dumb or like I’m making an excuse.” He grimaces. “Like, I know I’m not dumb, it’s a learning disability, but after hearing it your whole life it’s hard to think about yourself differently.”

  “The image sticks,” I whisper.

  He nods. “Exactly. People would rather see me as a stereotypical dumb jock. It’s easier than helping.”

  We’re still standing close and something propels me to reach for his hand. I find myself confessing, “My mother told me I couldn’t handle school. Or life. Or people or friends. She told me the world wasn’t safe. That people weren’t safe and I was better off on my own.”

  “That sounds really lonely.”

  My heart aches, because truer words have never been spoken. I’ve been so lonely.

  “I believed her. Every word.” I inhale and look up at his breathtaking face. “Until I came here and I met Leelee and Sierra and…all of you, and learned that good people are out there. Not perfect people, but good people, and it’s okay to trust.”

  His mouth curves into a dangerous grin. “I trust you too, Starlee. It’s why I told you about my reading problem.”

  I nod. “It’s why I come out here with you every day.”

  The sun starts its daily path and I tug on Jake’s hand to get him to sit. He does. We do, but he does something else once we’re in our positions, side by side. He wraps his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close to his side. My heart hammers in my chest, so hard that I think it may break free from my ribs, but I don’t pull away. Trust. We’ve established it. We’re just two people out here to help one another. When there’s enough light, I crack open the book and start reading.

  Any hesitation I had about going to the Wayward Sun vanishes after the cookout. I pop in and out all day, grabbing coffee and muffins. I’m not the only one that shifts. The boys start to hang around more and more. Charlie comes over twice to help me with a computer problem and then stays to upload a game on my computer and shows me how to play. Dexter quietly bakes another pie and leaves it on the doorstep, and George follows me from room-to-room as I refresh the flyers and brochures once the guests check out.

  It’s not a complete surprise when I walk into the Wayward Sun one slow afternoon and find George standing in front of the mural with one paint brush between his teeth and another in his fingers. A messy palette sits on a chair.

  “Wait,” I say, realization settling in, “you painted the mural?”

  “Yep.”

  “George,” I say, taking in the whole image. “This is incredible.”

  It means more to me than it did the first time I saw it. Then, I thought it was a weird hippie thing or something. Now I get that it’s an homage to the show and characters. Not only is Baby, the car, driving down the highway, but Sam and Dean sit in the front seat. Music notes drift from the open window. Giant angel wings hover over the car. There are dozens of faces I don’t recognize because I haven’t seen that much of the show, but I do recognize their mother’s face and a few of the monsters.

  “Thanks,” he says, giving me a wide, proud smile. “After each season I have to go in and update it a little, add in a few new symbolic touches.”

  “I didn’t know you could
paint.” I suspected from seeing his room and the stains on his hands, but I had no idea he was this accomplished.

  “Well, painting like this isn’t my real love.” He shrugs. “I prefer street art.”

  “Like graffiti?”

  “Yeah, but after I got arrested…”

  “You got arrested? For vandalism?”

  “Yeah. A few times.” He drops the paint brushes into the water cup. “The first time, my dad stopped talking to me. The second time, he threw me out of the house for a week. The third…”

  My mind flashes to the scar on his back.

  “I’m sorry. Well, I’m not sorry you got busted breaking the law, but I’m sorry your dad didn’t support you.”

  He rubs his forehead, leaving a smear of blue paint in a line. “The social worker calls it ‘impulse control’.” His shoulders rise and fall. “I guess that’s true. I get something in my head and can’t stop myself.”

  “So you switched to this kind art instead?”

  “It was a condition for living here. Sierra said I could help decorate the shop, but if I got arrested for tagging again, I’d have to move out.” He smiles sadly. “She said it way nicer than my dad.”

  “For what it’s worth, I think your skills are way more useful out of detention than in.” I grab a napkin off the counter and walk over. He just watches me with curious eyes as I wipe the smear of paint off his face.

  There are dozens of moments like this where I learn more and more about them. Like how Charlie gets so into his game that he doesn’t even realize others are in the room. I grow to understand Sierra’s frustration with his addiction.

  Slowly, though, they become a consistent part of my day, which is why I’m not surprised to find Jake and George in the office one day after I’ve completed my homework.

  “Hey,” I say, walking past them in the small waiting area and moving behind the desk to stand next to Leelee. “What are you doing here?”

  The boys exchange a look. “We came to ask Ms. Nye if you could have the afternoon off.”

  “To do what?” I ask, straightening a stack of newspapers.

  “To go to the falls.”

  My eyes drop to George’s leg. He notices and laughs. “No, not those falls. The Star Trail. It’s not that far away and it’s a pretty easy hike.”

  “And the waterfall is worth it,” Jake adds, giving Leelee a fast, charming smile.

  I realize instantly why these are the two that were sent to fetch me. George is sweet. Good-natured and totally non-threatening. Jake? He can charm the pants off a snake. From the hint of red on her cheeks, this includes my grandmother.

  “If Starlee wants to go, it’s fine with me.”

  “Wait, what? I have to work. You need me here. It’s the busy season.”

  “It is, and I have everything under control. You act like I haven’t done this for decades before you got here.” She gives me a look. “Go have fun with your friends, Starlee, the falls are beautiful.”

  “You’ve been?”

  “Of course, I’ve been. They’re named after my mother.” She rolls her eyes. “Your grandfather proposed to me at the falls.”

  “You’re kidding?” George says, pumping his fist. “Go Mr. Nye.”

  “George, don’t be crass.” Whatever. I can tell she loves the attention. She looks at me. “Go.”

  Exhilaration rushes through me and before I can overthink it I say yes. Both boys break into wide grins and on the way out the door, George adds, “We’ll meet in an hour. Oh, and don’t forget your bathing suit.”

  The door clicks shut. “Bathing suit?”

  “It’s hot and you’ll want to take a dip when you get up there,” is all Leelee says, focused on her work.

  “Uh, I don’t have a bathing suit.”

  Leelee frowns. “What? How do you not have a bathing suit?”

  I think of the two-piece tankini I had in my drawer back home for trips to the beach. “I’m not supposed to do anything but work and study and stay safely inside. No bathing suits required.”

  The back door opens and shuts and we both glance in that direction. Katie steps into view. “That big cottage left a huge mess outside again last night.”

  “I’ll talk to them again,” Leelee says. “They’re leaving tomorrow.”

  “Well, put a mark by their name. I don’t like them.” She lifts the bag of dirty laundry and places it in the bin. My grandmother studies her closely and Katie frowns. “What?”

  “You’re about the same size as Starlee, do you have a bathing suit she can borrow?”

  “No.” I say. “That’s really not necessary. I can just dip my feet in.”

  Katie’s eyes flick over to me, sizing me up. “I think I have a few you can choose from.”

  “Perfect,” Leelee says. “You two head over now. Katie, I’ll keep you on the clock.”

  She smiles. “You’ve got it.”

  We’re on the front porch when I say, “You really don’t have to.”

  “Why not? It’s about time you explored the area.” Has she been watching me? Probably. There’s not a lot else to do around here. “Where are you going?”

  I follow her down the sidewalk. Katie lives in the trailer park about a block down from The Wayward Sun. We pass the coffee shop and I hear the strains of The Who coming from inside. None of the boys are in sight. Probably getting ready to leave.

  “I think George called them the Star Trails.”

  She sneaks a sideways glance at me. “You’re going with George?”

  My stomach twists with nerves. “Yes. And the others, too.”

  “You’re going with all of the Wayward Sons?”

  “Did you just call them the suns?” I move my hand like a burst of energy. To be fair, it’s fitting. They do shine.

  “No,” Katie rolls her eyes. We’ve passed the gas station and the entrance for the trailer park is the next drive. “The Wayward Sons like boy. S-o-n. It’s a song.”

  “Oh okay, I didn’t get that. Sierra’s got so many double meanings to her stuff, I miss some.”

  She laughs and walks up to a silver Airstream and inserts a key in the door. “That’s the truth. I think she named the shop when it was just her and Dexter. The original wayward son if there’s ever been one. The others fit, too. A whole boarding house of lost, parentless boys.”

  The way she says it makes me sad, but I know they’ve built a tight family. I’ve also learned that being parentless maybe isn’t the worst thing all the time. As soon as I think that, I feel bad.

  “Come on in and I’ll see what I can find.”

  I step into the trailer, which is immaculate and oddly spacious. Katie disappears into the back and I can hear her rummaging through clothes. A few minutes later she appears with several scraps of clothing.

  Scraps.

  “You want me to wear one of those?” I blurt, eyeing the bikinis.

  “Sure? I think we’re about the same size. Take your pick.”

  The options run from white bikini, black bikini, red-white-and-blue bikini, and an outlier in olive green with a halter top and boy-short bottoms. Each and every one looks like a nightmare, but she looks at me expectantly and I have to make a choice. I go for the halter.

  “Good decision,” she says. “Full coverage up top. Plus, it’s super flattering.”

  “Thanks,” I say, already prepared to never put it on.

  She locks up the trailer and we head back to the lodge. “You know I’m surprised they invited you to the falls. I mean, not that you’re not great, but they keep to themselves socially.”

  “I have a feeling they’re starting to think of me as their long-lost wayward sister.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Why would you say that?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not super experienced around boys in any way, but I think they just feel sorry for me—cooped up with my grandma all summer. They’re just being nice.”

  She stops in front of the gas station. “Look, Starlee, if we were
in one of those amazing teen movies, we’d be having our make-over montage so that you’d walk in and wow the boy of your dreams. But we’re not in a movie and you don’t need a makeover. Not with your fantastic red hair and adorable figure. You just need a bathing suit, because for some reason you don’t have one.”

  “I don’t have one because I’ve never needed one.” Especially not one like the one in my hand.

  “Girl.” She rolls her eyes. “They hang out with you because they like you—that’s how boys are. They don’t feel sorry for people. Even the nice ones.”

  “We’ve just bonded over a few things. School and parents. That kind of thing.”

  “So they’ve opened up to you.” Her eyes are wide. “Wow.”

  “I think you’re being overdramatic.”

  “We’ll see, we’ll see.” She glances over at the Wayward Sun as we pass. “If you had to pick, which one is your favorite?”

  “I don’t have one.”

  “They’re too young for me, but I wouldn’t mind spending some time with Hollingsworth, just to see that body up close.”

  I wonder what she’d think about the two of us spending every morning together, huddled up on the boulder watching the sunrise. Fully dressed, at that.

  “I don’t think of them that way,” I say, trying my hardest to make my voice even. She shakes her head in disbelief. She’s right. That one may be a stretch. We’re back at the lodge and I need to go get ready. “Thanks for the bathing suit. I hope it fits.”

  “It’ll look great.” She then adds quietly, “They’ll love it, too.”

  “I told you—”

  “I know what you told me, I’m just adding in my opinion. They’re going to love it, Starlee. Have fun today.”

  I nod and thank her again, already feeling the rush of butterflies in my stomach. I’m going on a hike with four amazing guys. Four guys that think of me as a friend. Four guys I couldn’t choose from, if I ever had the chance.

  My mother may be wrong about boys being bad for me, but she’s right about one thing: they definitely, completely, absolutely complicate matters.