Dark Hearts

by Micalea Smeltzer

  “Stop it,” Rae scolds him.

  “This is very much real,” I say. “If you have any questions feel free to ask them. Now that you all know, I’m an open book.” Thea raises her hand like we’re in class. “Yes?” I prompt when she doesn’t speak immediately.

  “You were fifteen?”

  “Yes.” I nod. “Only fifteen.”

  “Wow,” Thea mouths. “That’s crazy. I can’t imagine having a kid at my age, let alone fifteen. Were you scared?”

  “Terrified,” I answer honestly.

  “Your parents …” Rae starts. “This is why when you talk about them it’s obvious that you kind of … hate them.”

  I nod slowly. “Yeah. I wouldn’t say I hate them, exactly, but I definitely don’t love them. It’s just easier if I stay away. I feel too much anger and resentment when it comes to them.”

  Rae frowns. She has a good relationship with her parents so I’m sure a tale like mine is hard to connect with. If she’d been in my situation her parents would’ve been supportive, probably not thrilled, sure, but they would’ve been there for her. I had no one.

  “Can you find him?” Thea asks. “Can you find your son?”

  Jace’s hand flexes against the small of my back.

  “It was a closed adoption,” I explain with a shrug. “I met the parents, spoke with them while I was pregnant, and once I chose them, that was it.”

  Thea frowns, tears pooling in her eyes. Xander wraps a comforting arm around her shoulders.

  “That’s so sad,” she says, dabbing at her eyes. “I can’t imagine.”

  “It sucks,” I say.

  Those two words hardly sum up the gist of what I feel, but it works.

  “If you picked the couple don’t you know their name?” Rae asks.

  I shake my head, my lips thinning. “No names are exchanged. They didn’t know mine and I didn’t know theirs. I picked them based on what was in their bio and since I liked them the adoption agency arranged for us to meet. They were from out of state, but I didn’t even know what state they were from. They keep it all very private to protect both parties.”

  Rae nods sadly. “I understand.”

  “There’s nothing you can do?” Thea presses. “Can’t you reverse it and say you changed your mind and want an open adoption? That’s your son.”

  I shrug helplessly. I feel like all I’m doing is shrugging and shaking my head but it’s the only thing applicable.

  “I’m sure you can, but it’d cost a lot in legal fees. I don’t have money for that.”

  “But he’s with a good family, right?” Xander asks.

  “Yeah,” Thea pipes in. “Tell us about them.”

  I sigh. I practically have their bio memorized. I used to read it every night before I went to bed, my hand lovingly grazing my round belly. “The wife is a former professional ballet dancer, now working as an elementary teacher. At the time, she was still teaching ballet once a week. The husband was a mechanic and they met when his wife came into the shop one day. She taught him how to dance, and he used to think he had no rhythm but he found he just needed the right partner. They’d been married for five years and together for eight. It said they’d started trying to have kids two years into their marriage but found out after a year of trying that she couldn’t have kids. So, they decided to adopt. They’d already been on the waiting list for two years, and had one adoption fall through. I figured if I couldn’t take care of my baby, then they’d be a good fit. They were normal, sweet people, who wanted a baby more than anything. I gave them that.” I wipe my tears away, cursing myself for crying yet again.

  It’s practically Christmas, I shouldn’t be bawling every minute.

  I’m surprised to find both the girls crying too, and Xander and Cade both have a slightly glazed look to their eyes.

  Jace rubs soothing circles on my back and lowers his head, his lips grazing my ear. “I love you. You’re the strongest person I know.”

  I warm at his words and smile up at him. “I love you too.”

  “Am I the only one that finds that weird?” Cade asks.

  “Yes,” Thea replies, and throws a pillow at him. He catches it easily. “Ignore Cade,” Thea tells us. “He thinks only he’s allowed to be in love.”

  “Ha, ha, ha,” he fake laughs. “You’re so funny.”

  “It’s true.” She sticks her tongue out at him.

  Sometimes watching Cade and Thea bicker made me long for a sibling of my own, but realistically I know it’s probably good my parents started and stopped with me. They weren’t very good at parenting me, strict and controlling. It was more than parents dealing with an unruly kid, because I was never bad, but they made me feel that way.

  Yeah, yeah, I got pregnant, but it wasn’t like I was drinking or doing drugs or at parties every night like some kids.

  My parents were the kind of strict where I couldn’t have a cellphone, had to be home by eight, and where the dumbest things set them off.

  My mom used to get mad if I left clothes on the floor in the morning—and when I say mad, I mean the kind of mad where she’d yell and scream and throw things.

  My dad was even worse.

  He was always watching every little thing I did, looking for fault in it. From the way I held a fork to how loud I closed a door.

  It was like I couldn’t breathe in my own house.

  “Are you okay?” Jace asks, rubbing the back of my neck.

  He’s so incredibly in tune with me that it’s strange at times.

  I lean into his touch. “Yeah, I’m okay.”

  “Any dark thoughts in that pretty little head of yours that you want to share?” he prompts.

  I shake my head. “No, I’m good.”

  “Good.” He nods.

  It feels good now that everyone knows. I didn’t realize before how Owen’s existence was like a hundred-pound weight dragging from my ankle, weighing me down.

  Now, for the first time in four years, I feel free.

  Jace

  “That feels nice,” I murmur sleepily to the feel of Nova’s lips trailing down my chest, her silky hair tickling along the way.

  It’s been an adjustment to seeing her with silky brown locks, but I’ve decided it’s my favorite look on her because it’s one-hundred percent her.

  She laughs softly, her fingers hooking into my boxer-briefs. I lift my hips and she pulls them down.

  She’s hasn’t even touched me and I’m already half-hard as she wraps her fingers around me.

  “Merry-fucking-Christmas to me,” I murmur with a sleepy grin, my fingers tangling in her soft hair as she takes me in her mouth.

  Sex with Nova never gets old. It’s always new and exciting and better than the last time. Monogamy never used to be my thing, but being with Nova has shown me a whole new world. With her, everything is so much better and right feeling.

  She plays with me, her mouth a wicked and tempting thing. I’ve never come in her mouth before. Fuck, I’ve thought about it, but I always end up wanting to finish inside her pussy, and this day is no different. I urge her off me and she crawls up my body with a satisfied little smirk, wiping her mouth.

  I hold her hips and she positions herself above me.

  She sinks down slowly and we both moan.

  She collapses onto my chest, her hair all around me, and rocks her hips.

  I capture her lips in mine, nibbling on her bottom lip.

  “I love you,” I tell her.

  I never thought love was for me. I thought it made you weak, and pathetic, and that it would ruin my life. I was wrong. Loving Nova has made me stronger and happier than I’ve ever been, like I can take on the world, and the best part is I still feel like I’m me when I’m with her, but a better version.

  I think maybe that’s how you know you’ve found the one—when they don’t change you but simply make you a better you.

  “I love you too,” she breathes, sitting up and raking her nails down my chest. I hiss from the sting.


  She looks like a fucking goddess above me. Dark hair, wide doe eyes, pouty lips, and those freckles.

  I have a major love for Nova’s freckles.

  I cup her round perky breasts in my hands and squeeze slightly. She moans, arching her back.

  I sit up, holding her body to mine and angle my head into her neck as I rock my hips up to meet hers.

  Her nails rake down my back and she tilts her head back as she gasps.

  I press my lips to the skin of her neck and feel her shiver.

  She lowers her head, her brown eyes dark with intensity. She looks at me like I’m all that exists, like I’m her whole fucking world.

  She comes apart above me, her whole body shuddering, and then I can’t hold back any longer.

  I wrap my arms around her, holding her against me as we both come down from our high.

  A few minutes pass and we stay wrapped in each other’s arms.

  Finally, she says, “Merry Christmas, Jace.”

  I kiss her. “Merry Christmas. Come on, let’s see if Santa left us anything,” I joke, disentangling my body from hers.

  She flops onto the bed, and I smack her ass.

  I pull on a clean pair of boxer-briefs and a pair of sweatpants.

  “I don’t wanna move.” She hugs a pillow to her chest.

  “There are presents,” I coax.

  She rolls over onto her back, and I can’t help but eye her breasts. They’re perky and just the right fullness.

  “You know, Christmas just isn’t as exciting as it is when you’re a kid.”

  “I don’t know,” I say, bending down to kiss her because she looks just too fucking delectable lying in my bed, which let’s face it, it’s our bed now. “This morning was pretty fucking exciting.”

  She sighs, fighting a smile. “That it was. Ugh, okay.” She groans and rolls out of the bed. I watch as she pulls on a tiny pair of gray underwear, a tank top, and loose gray jogging pants. She claps her hands together and says, “Gimme my presents.”

  Last year there was no Christmas tree in my apartment, and definitely no presents, but this year the tree is so big it takes up practically a whole corner of the apartment and there are probably too many presents. I don’t normally buy presents for anyone, but this year I went out and got stuff for Nova and our friends too. For the first time since I lost my mom, I felt happy to celebrate the holidays.

  “Hang on, we need music,” Nova chimes, jumping off the step from the bedroom into the living space.

  She sprints over to the counter in the kitchen and turns on the Bluetooth speaker, fiddling with her phone.

  A moment later, Christmas music filters through the air.

  She turns around and starts dancing as she comes toward me. She shakes her hips and her tongue sticks out slightly between her lips. With her hair piled messily on her head, I don’t think she can get more perfect.

  “One more thing,” she says, and grabs something off the table.

  “No.” I shake my head and hold my hands out in front of my body, waving them back and forth to stave her off. “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Come on. Don’t spoil the fun.” She catapults herself at my body and tries, and fails, to get the Santa Claus hat on my head. She falls to the ground, and I hold out a hand to help her up. “You’re too tall.” She pouts.

  “Will it really make you happy if I wear the stupid hat?”

  She grins. “More than you can believe.”

  I sigh and take the hat from her, putting it on. The things we do for the people we love.

  “You look hot.”

  “Old fat guys with white beards is what does it for you?” I ask with a raised brow.

  She laughs. “No, you half-naked is what does it for me.”

  I grow serious. “Why do you love me?”

  She tilts her head to the side, appraising me. “There are a lot of reasons. I love how much you care about people, even if you try to act like you don’t care. I know you’d drop anything to help one of the guys or girls if they needed you. I love that you took me in when you didn’t have to. I love that you play and write music. I love that you work so hard. I love your smile and laugh—and most importantly, I love that you do both so much now. When I first got to know you, you never did either. God, Jace, I love everything about you. Even things I might hate, I love instead. Like how you always leave your toothbrush on the counter, and how you never make the bed. Things like that. I find myself smiling because I love you and every little thing that makes you you.”

  “Fuck.” I fight a smile. “You could’ve stopped with the caring about people.”

  She laughs, the kind of laugh that comes deep from her belly. “Hey, you asked. Now come on, we have presents to open.”

  A few minutes before she didn’t want to get out of bed, and now she’s the one dragging me to the presents.

  We sit on the floor by the tree and she eagerly looks at the presents, handing me one of mine and taking one with her name.

  “On the count of three,” she says. “One, two, three.” She counts down each number on a finger and then we rip into our packages like lunatics.

  I chuckle. “A kindle?”

  She smiles bashfully. “You read a lot. I thought you might want to try this.”

  “It’s perfect.” I lean over and kiss her—frankly, I’ll use anything as an excuse to kiss her anymore.

  She looks down at the item in her lap, fighting laughter. “Really?”

  “It was made for you.”

  She shakes her head and holds up the shirt. “Make Me Coffee. Yeah, it’s appropriate.”

  “I figured you wear your funny saying shirts all the time, so one can finally be from me.”

  She folds it and lays it aside. “Another?” She nods at the packages.

  I hold out my hands for a present and she hands me one.

  We both rip into the packages, then the next, and another, until finally we’re done and surrounded by the carnage of wrapping paper.

  “I’ll clean up,” Nova says, standing up and already gathering up the paper.

  I help her so it doesn’t take too long and then grab a trash bag and hold it open while she stuffs the paper inside.

  “I guess we should get ready and head over to Cade’s?” she asks.

  “You can start getting ready,” I tell her. “I’m going to make us something to eat first.”

  “Okay, thank you.” She stands on her tiptoes and kisses my jaw before hurrying into the bathroom before I can pinch her butt.

  While she showers, I make the batter for homemade waffles. It’s not as complicated as people make it out to be, I just usually don’t make them because I hate the mess it makes in the waffle iron. But I figure it’s Christmas and this calls for a special occasion.

  While I stir the batter, I munch on one of the cookies Nova and I made last night.

  Nova insisted that making cookies on Christmas Eve was tradition and we had to do it.

  I think maybe we started a whole new kind of tradition when I ended up fucking her on the counter, but since we did finish making the cookies, I count it as a double win.

  I wonder if Nova didn’t come up with the idea to make cookies because she was craving normalcy. I know the last few days had to have been draining for her—admitting she has a son, and telling not only me but all of our friends. The girl deserves a round of applause for her strength. She’s amazing.

  I pour the batter onto the hot waffle iron and close it, listening to the batter sizzle.

  It doesn’t take long for me to make all the waffles and Nova comes out of the bathroom, freshly showered with her damp hair hanging like a dark curtain, and the white towel wrapped around her body.

  She once told me she found me lickable when I came out of the shower wet with a towel around my waist. I didn’t understand what she meant, and I might’ve even laughed, but I totally understand it now.

  “Mmm,” she hums. “That smells amazing.” She pads over and in
spects the plate of waffles. “Save some for me,” she jokes, before heading into her room to change.

  Honestly, her room is mine now. It’s where she sleeps and primarily lives. I need to just move her stuff into my dresser and turn her room into an office or something.

  I fix two plates and coffee and set everything on the table.

  Nova comes out of her room dressed in a pair of ripped jeans, a sweater, and her damp hair piled on her head.

  Fucking perfection.

  “God, this smells amazing.” She closes her eyes and inhales the scent with a dreamy smile.

  She takes a seat, and I sit across from her.

  She grabs the butter and slathers it on her waffle and then dumps a butt load of syrup on top of that.

  “What?” she says when she notices me eyeing her.

  I grin. “Nothing.”

  She narrows her eyes, crinkling her nose. “That look does not say nothing.”

  I nod at her plate. “You want some actual waffles with your syrup?”

  She juts her chin in the air. “The syrup is what makes it good.”

  I shake my head and add a little syrup to my waffles.

  “Well, you’re just a fun sucker, aren’t you?” she jokes, eyeing my plate.

  I lift my coffee cup, trying to hide my smile. “Maybe I don’t want to be a sticky mess.”

  She rolls her eyes. “I’m going to use a fork, not eat with my bare hands, so I doubt I’ll get sticky.”

  “You’d be surprised.” I take a drink of coffee and set my mug down.

  One of my favorite things to do with Nova—besides the obvious—is eat breakfast. Our morning chats have become like a lifeline to me. I can’t imagine not starting my day eating breakfast and drinking coffee with her. Those two weeks when she was pissed at me and wouldn’t talk were some of the worst times of my life in recent years.

  “What are you thinking about?” she asks, eyeing me with a bite halfway to her mouth.

  “You,” I answer honestly.

  “What about me?” She balks.

  I shrug. “Just thinking about us. This.” I wag a finger between us. “I like our routine.”

  “Oh.” She straightens in her seat and wiggles a bit. “I like it too,” she admits.