“Tristan,” Dad says, putting his menu on the table. “That’s completely inappropriate. I think you’ve watched too many movies.”
Fear and anxiety start twisting in my stomach. With our heads buried in options, and thoughts of my boy being hurt running through my mind, I shut my eyes tight, only to open them quickly.
Words of wisdom grip firm to every bone in my body, trying to find a voice inside while bubbling anger threatens to surface. “You can choose to be weak or decide to stand strong when adversity finds you. It’s always your choice how you will push through those unforeseen moments that bring you to your knees.”
These two people who stand before me are the reason I’m weak, the reason I face diversity, and the ones who brought me to my knees. I have no love for these people who ripped Jace away from me.
“Hello, Stark family,” the man says, bringing our family to silence, which is hard to do, especially when Tatum and Tristan are around. My stomach churns at the sound of his cold voice.
The Porters.
Mrs. Porter looks around the table nervously. “You look beautiful, Melody,” she pathetically says, trying to make small talk with my mother.
“Go away!” I scream in my head.
Her eyes land on me, and she smiles. I give her a dirty look. Fragile, sleep deprived, and a longing so strong to see the boy I love hits every nerve in my body. “You have a lot of nerve coming up to our table,” I spit out angrily, picturing Jace behind bars.
With a tight hold on a promised forever, my fingers find the heart-shaped charm Jace gave me, and I start seething inside that he can’t feel my love for him right now. I’m separated from my boy because of hers. I picture throwing my menu at her Botox-filled face.
While her son, Cole, is off at Stanford University with Brett, my other childhood disappointment, Jace sits in a cold prison cell. I don’t take my eyes off her. Her smile falls, causing her injection-filled lips to frown unwillingly.
Cole healed just fine. He had a one-week stay in a state-of-the-art hospital with cracked ribs, a broken nose, a cracked jaw, and a concussion from the force of him and Jace hitting the ground, leaving him in an induced coma for one day along with recovery time at home. I’m not a malicious person. I’ve never wanted to see harm come to anyone. The thought of pain and suffering troubles me. So don’t think for one minute I feel like Cole deserved the beating he received that night. But, his actions and the brutal, uncaring words he spoke to Jace repeatedly led to a moment that hurt him physically, and the consequences Jace is paying for Cole’s relentless, disgusting behavior will never be okay with me. I will never blame Jace for that night. His reaction was long overdue. I just wish my boy hadn’t been pushed so hard, causing him to do so much damage. Completely heartbroken for everyone involved, my parents have kept up with how Cole is doing. They don’t blame Jace; they believe it was a fight between two guys that went wrong.
No love lost—not on my end. He will make a full recovery and move on with his life, but that night will forever affect the boy I love. That night haunts me every time the sun goes down and darkness blankets the sky. I picture Jace being carted off in a cop car with blood pouring out of his head, handcuffed and hurt, treated by hard-hearted people in a room inside the jail. Those thoughts make me bitter beyond reason.
“How are you, Shay?” Mr. Porter says, smugly bringing me out of my impulsive thoughts. My infinity charm Jace gave me on my graduation day centers me, reminding me two years apart takes up time away from my soul mate.
“You put my boyfriend in prison for two years. How the hell do you think I’m doing? That seems like a really dumb question, Mr. Porter.” Mrs. Porter releases a dramatic sigh that causes her frozen pout to barely rise. “There had to be consequences to his actions,” he says quickly.
“Really? And what about your son’s actions? Jealousy is an ugly bitch, Mr. Porter, and, unfortunately, your son has a lot of ugly in him.”
Fresh-faced and real, my mother puts her delicate hand over mine to calm me down. I glance at her, and my dad catches my eye. He shakes his head slowly. He wants me to find class in chaos and remember the words of wisdom I’ve been taught, but the sad truth is, I’m not strong right now. I’m weak and falling apart every day Jace is away from me.
“I would think you would have a little bit more compassion for Cole. He’s always loved you, Shay,” Mrs. Porter says smiling.
I look between my parents who are the definition of love. I hold on to love under the table, gripping my boy’s loyalty to me, and a bitter laugh finds me. “You’re right, Mrs. Porter. I actually feel sorry for Cole. He’s never really been shown how to love. He’s always had a pretty warped sense of how to really treat someone.”
“You’re out of line, Shay,” Mr. Porter says.
My dad scoots out of his chair. “Steven,” Mom says nervously. He gives her a tight smile.
“David, I think that’s enough,” Dad says, looking Mr. Porter in the eyes. My dad is not a small guy. He takes really good care of himself and is in great shape.
I throw my fork onto the table. The loud clatter brings attention to others dining in the restaurant. “You put my boyfriend in prison for two years!” I look around, seeing attention slide our way and lower my voice out of respect for my family name. “You do realize that, right? Your son was equally involved in that fight. He caused it. I think you’re forgetting that.”
“Your boyfriend could have killed my son,” he says between gritted teeth.
“Your son could have killed my boyfriend. The thing is, Mr. Porter, when you’ve been taunted and belittled for years, you sometimes find the strength to have the upper hand. Jace does not deserve to be in that prison cell while Cole is off screwing sorority girls at freakin’ Stanford.”
Mr. Porter rubs his jaw.
“I think you need to walk away, David,” Dad says with a strong stance.
“Yes, please walk away, Mr. Porter,” I say through tears.
With a hard stare, and a wife on the verge of tears, he walks away with Mrs. Porter trailing behind him. Easy chatter fills the thick space while I scream bloody murder in my head.
“Would you like coffee?” the waitress asks, acting as though she didn’t hear our confrontation.
“No, I want to leave,” I tell her.
She smiles awkwardly and says, “I’ll give you a few minutes.”
“Shay, that was rude.”
“I’ll wait in the car.” I scoot out of my chair.
“Let’s just go home, Steven.”
“I’m starving!” Tristan says.
“I’ll make you something to eat at home. Think about your sister right now,” Mom says behind me as we head outside.
“That was totally awkward,” Tatum says, flipping her hair.
Dad stays silent as we walk back to the car. No one says a word the entire drive back home until we get to the bottom of the driveway.
“Let me get the mail, Steven,” Mom tells him.
He stops the car, and she grabs everything out of the mailbox and gets back inside. I stare at my chipped pink nails until Dad parks the car at the top of the driveway.
“Mom, can you make something right now?” Tristan asks.
She looks up from the pile of mail in her hand and says, “I’ll be there in a minute, Tristan.”
He walks away with a huff, and Tatum smacks the back of his head and runs past him.
“That was for pulling my hair!” she yells and runs into the house. Dad trails behind them, laughing, and Mom stares at me with a smile on her face.
“I think I’m holding something that might brighten your day,” she says.
My dad turns around and looks at my mom. I waste no time and grab it out of her hands.
“So much brighter.” But then, my heart sinks a little when I see the return address with his sweet handwriting.
“Is something wrong?” she asks. I shake my head no, then break down in tears.
“I never cared about where h
e lived, only who he was, but seeing his writing with the return address being a prison facility has my already broken heart shattering into a million pieces for him. I know how prideful he is, and I know writing this broke him.”
“Can you write down your address for me?”
I scrunch up my nose.
“I just want to know where you live.”
“Can I have yours, too?” I ask him.
He shakes his head no, and when I frown, he takes my chin in his hand and makes me look at him.
“It’s not that I don’t want you to know where I live…it’s just…” he hesitates.
“It’s not good enough for you…”
“He never thought he was good enough, and to me, he has always been everything.” I wipe away Valentine’s Day sweetness dropping from my eyes. “He started sending me love letters in the mail when I was fourteen and he was fifteen.” I smile, looking down at the first envelope I’ve received in a long time. Dad clears his throat next to me, and I hear him tell my mom to come inside with him. I don’t look up. With my heart in my hands, and my tears flowing freely, I get ready to read my boy’s words.
Wet cheeks and a glimpse of hope drag my flip-flopped feet to the back of the house and right onto the white sofa that I blew out sixteen candles while sitting on Jace’s lap. Gently and slowly, like I’m opening a present, I carefully rip the corner open and slide my finger, breaking the seal. I trace my finger over a pink heart in the center of a folded piece of paper. I stare at it for a moment. In all the years I’ve received love notes from Jace, one thing has always found my eyes before I even read all his sweet words—the adorable pink hearts he draws for me. I love his pink hearts.
Shay,
There once was a boy who dreamed of a life full of love. He was just a young, dumb kid. But, one day, that boy met a young, beautiful girl. The prettiest girl he had ever seen. Long, dark, wavy hair, dark blue eyes, and her smile, the warmest smile he had ever seen. When she spoke to him, he knew without question that she would be the only girl he would ever want. He fell in love with her that very first day as she kicked up dirt with Converse and ripped jeans. They were so in love and just about to start their life together, and that boy screwed it all up…
I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry that I’ve put you through this. I guess I’m still that dumb kid, but no matter what, I’m so incredibly in love with you. I’m not a great storyteller, but I just want you to know how I feel. I love you, Shay, and I can’t wait to feel your sun-kissed skin against mine. I can’t wait to smell a summer day, and I can’t wait to taste your coconut lips. I need you, I need to hear your sweet voice, and I just really want my girl.
Love, your boy, Jace
Inside the envelope is another piece of paper. I open it, and it’s an approval form to be filled out. I smile and set it next to me.
“I take it your spirits are better,” Dad says, standing over me.
“You could say that.”
He lifts my legs and sits down on the end of the couch.
“Your mother’s pacing the floors in there, you know.”
I look down at Jace’s sweet words.
“She’ll be fine,” I say.
“Oh, I know she’ll be fine. I will always make sure of that,” he says with a wink. Then, his face softens, and he rubs his jaw. “How’s he doing?”
Bursting right back to a puddle of tears, I look out into the city where I used to wonder where he was, but now know exactly where to find him.
“He didn’t say. Jace won’t ever tell me his hardships, Dad. It’s not his way.”
“Come here, and give your dad a hug.” I scoot over and wrap myself in my father’s strong arms.
“I miss him so much. I’m just worried about him.”
Running protective hands through my unwashed hair, he says, “You know, I saw Jace before he was sentenced.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask with my face buried in his chest. “What did you say to him?”
“That’s between Jace and me, but I will tell you what I told him on your sixteenth birthday before you drove him home after your party. I said it’s not how you start; it’s how you finish.” He pauses. “What happened won’t define who he is, and I wanted him to know that.”
I pull away from his tear-filled shirt. He wipes my face as he says, “I hate seeing my little girl cry so much.”
“I can’t help it, Dad. I’ve never felt so helpless in my entire life. I need to see him, and I need him to know that I’m here. I can’t get the picture of him alone in a cell out of my head. It consumes me.”
“You have to try to rid those thoughts, Shay.” His jaw tightens, and he takes in a deep breath. “I wish I could have helped him.”
“Thank you for being there for Jace. He never knew his father, and his mother never cared.”
Standing up, he kisses my forehead. “That’s what family is for…” He smiles down at me. I bite down on my bottom lip and hold up Jace’s love letter.
“I will never let him go. He kind of owns my heart,” I say, repeating the words of affection Jace once spoke to me.
“I have no doubt in my mind Jace feels the same way about you. He’ll be okay, Shay. He’s obviously one tough kid. And, the way he loves you, I know his only focus is to get back to you.”
TWO AND A HALF WEEKS IN PRISON
Getting back to Shay is the only thing I’m focused on as I hold on to returned love and fairy-tale beginnings.
Jace,
There once was a young girl who went with her mother to drop off a box of books at a local community center. She took a chance asking a group of boys to join in on their football game, and when the boys saw the girl, the girl only ever saw one boy. Jet-black hair and the palest blue eyes she had ever seen walked up to her, and from that moment on, she never looked into another boy’s eyes. She fell in love with him that very first day, and no matter what, she would always stand by that boy’s side, because he held her moon and her stars in his eyes.
I love you, Jace James. You are my everything, and I can’t wait to see you!
Your girl, Shay
God, I can’t wait to look into those eyes again.
I hold her moon and her stars in my eyes.
She has no idea how tight I’m holding on to those words. In all the years I sent love letters to her house, I never once wrote a return address, because selfishly I didn’t want her to know where I lived. It was never because I thought she would look at me differently. Shay has a heart of gold, and I know the way she feels about me would never lessen because of my address, but I always wanted to protect her pure heart from unnecessary hardships. I didn’t want her to see the rough side I was born into. She didn’t need to see junkies and whores, whose highlight of their day was getting their next fix. I always want her surrounded by love and sweetness and everything else that is good.
I’ve never forgotten her face all those years ago at the small table in the community center when we exchanged Valentine’s Day cards and I asked for her address. She so willingly gave me hers, and I completely broke her hopeful heart when I denied her mine. Writing the prison address on the front of her letter wasn’t easy, but just like my sentence, I have no other choice right now. If I want to look into the eyes of the girl who captured my heart all those years ago, I have to allow her to come see me. With her love and commitment to stand by me held against my chest, I sit back and wait until she walks through those doors and meets me on the other side.
APPROVAL GRANTED
I ROLL COCONUT CHAPSTICK onto my lips, run my brush through my hair one more time, shake off my nerves that kept my body on edge and road-rage-worthy the entire bumper-to-bumper traffic ride over here, and turn off my engine. With one more look in the mirror, I try to hold back the tears that threaten to fall. I want to look pretty for Jace when he sees me, and blotchy red cheeks and swollen eyes are not what he deserves to see right now. I smack my lips together, push open my door, hit lock, and make my way into th
e place that holds every beat of my heart. Cold and uncaring hit me in the face as soon as I walk up to the man with a shiny, bald head. He looks up.
“Shay Stark.”
“No. What’s name of the prisoner you are visiting?”
“Oh, of course. Jace James.” I start playing with the ends of my hair. He nods, looking down at his clipboard.
“You will have to take off your bracelet before you go through the metal detectors,” the guard says when all the visitors line up to go through the next door. I take it off, and after our belongings are searched, we walk into another room. White walls with encouraging words hold metal tables and chairs. I find one off to the side, away from a girl who hasn’t stopped staring at me since I checked in. Bleach blonde hair and tattoos line her neck. When she turns my way again, making eye contact, I look away.
Nervously, with freshly painted pink nails, I play with the threads on my frayed jeans. I reach up and push down my pink flowered blouse.
Willing Jace to walk through that door like I did the day he was taken away has my stomach flip-flopping. I need him to walk through that door like a gasping fish needs to be thrown back to sea.
MY LIFELINE IS HERE
WITH MY ARMS BEHIND my head, I lie waiting. Sleep never came when I knew my heart and soul would reunite with its other half this morning.
“You have a visitor.”
I look up, and the guard is standing at the front of my cell. Sitting up, I run my cold fingers through my hair.
“Let’s go,” he says. I get up. “You know the rules, right?” I nod as we make our way down the hallway to the visitation room. With a click of the door, my lifeline comes into focus, and the breath I’ve been holding since I left her in that courtroom leaves my tight lungs in a mad rush. I haven’t held her since I walked away from her at that party. I stop, and with my hand over my mouth, I try to push back the cry that wants to escape.
Questionable Love (A Love Beyond Labels #2) Page 3