by B. B. Hamel
“It’s crazy,” I confirm.
“But it feels right.”
“It feels right.” I move closer, pulling her body against mine. “I really do love you.”
“I really do love you, too.”
“Kiss her already!”
We both look up, startled. My mom’s standing in the doorway, looking down at us. She gives me a thumbs-up.
“Go back inside, ma,” I say.
“Oh, don’t be such a baby. Kiss your new girlfriend then come inside and eat something.”
Piper laughs as I pull her against me and kiss her dramatically. She laughs when I break away and stand.
“Well, you heard my mother,” I say. “Hungry?”
“Always.”
I help Piper to her feet. Together, we head inside, sit at my mother’s table, and eat my mother’s food. We sit and we talk about nothing, just pleasant bullshit, and it’s the best conversation I’ve had in a very long time.
26
Piper
Two Years Later
“Catch it! Dive!”
Jace throws himself to the ground with a grunt, landing inches shy of the chicken. It skitters away, wings flapping, and all the people laugh loudly as Jace slowly picks himself up. He’s grinning too, completely in on the joke and totally unashamed.
Andre, the Peruvian man that owns the farm we’re visiting, motions for Jace to watch. Andre sneaks past Jace, quietly moving with delicate ease, getting around behind the chicken. He inches closer and closer, before suddenly snapping down like a snake, grabbing the chicken on either side and lifting it up.
Everyone laughs and claps, including Jace. They spend the next half hour catching more chickens, and by the time they’re finished, Jace is actually pretty good.
“I’m never eating chicken again,” Jace says once we’ve cut. He wanders over to me, a forced smile on his face. “I think one of them scratched me in the eye.”
“Poor baby,” I say.
He laughs and pulls me against him. He kisses me slow and deep, the way he always does. When he’s done, he pulls away, and I glance at the ring on my finger like I always do after we touch.
“What else are we doing today?” he asks me.
“I think you’re going to meet some llamas,” I tell him.
He groans. “I hate animals.”
“I know.” I put his arms. “But be a big man and get it done.”
“Fine,” he grumbles, and ambles off to join Calvin, Eric, and Grant.
Ever since the first season of the show got incredible ratings, it’s been off to the races. We’ve spent like six weeks at home since that first filming, traveling all over the world all the time. Eric, Calvin, and Grant have been constant companions, along with random fixers, translators, other crewmembers when needed, and an incredible number of fans all over the world. And all through it, Jace has been my rock, my love, my husband.
It was an easy decision. After the first season aired and we were sitting in Jace’s apartment in New York, I knew what I had to do. I found a Staples and faxed the marriage license, making it official.
He wasn’t mad when I told him. Instead, he got down on one knee and gave me the ring he’s been carrying around since that night.
We’ve been married ever since. We didn’t need a ceremony, because every single day we spend together traveling the world is a new ceremony.
We finish the shoot on the Peruvian farm and head back into town. Lima is a sprawling place, an incredibly beautiful mix of old Spanish colonial style buildings and modern skyscrapers. I always pictured Peru as mainly agrarian and backwards, but that’s not really the case, not entirely at least.
“I think it’s the altitude, but you look gorgeous right now,” Jace says, pulling me up close to him.
I laugh a little bit. “Relax there, big guy.”
“Yeah, seriously,” Calvin says. “We’re getting some alcohol. You guys in?”
“Nah,” I say. “I’d rather do some walking.”
“I do what the lady says,” Jace answers.
“I’m down,” Eric says.
Grant nods and grunts, which is about as talkative as he gets.
“See you two lovebirds later, then.” The three crew guys head off, Calvin and Eric walking close together. They haven’t exactly become best friends again, but the animosity of the first season is mostly gone by now.
“I’ve been thinking,” Jace says softly. We head down a path that skirts along the cliffs overlooking the ocean. We can hear the waves lapping against the beach down below. Every time I look to the right, I get a view of the beautiful ocean, and I’m reminded all over again of why we do this.
“You? Thinking?” I roll my eyes. “Unlikely.”
He laughs and nudges me with his hip. “I’m the brains here, remember.”
“Please. You’re just a pretty face.” I reach up and touch his cheek. “Don’t forget it, baby.”
He laughs and kisses me. “Listen, I’m serious. I’ve been thinking.”
“Okay. I’ll bite. What about?”
“Kids.”
I arch an eyebrow. “Kids?”
“Kids.”
“Huh. Kids.” I look down at the path and back up at him. “What about them?”
“Do you want them?”
“I do,” I say slowly. “Sooner or later. I thought sooner, but ever since this job happened…” I trail off and shrug.
“I want them,” he says softly.
I take his hand. “Okay then.”
That seems to take him by surprise. “Seriously?”
“Seriously. I mean, it’s going to change our lives, it’ll be pretty hard and we’ll have to take some time off at first, maybe even a whole year. But I’m ready if you are.”
“Just like that, huh? I thought you’d fight me.”
I stop and turn to him. He cocks his head as he rounds toward me.
“Listen, idiot. You’ve given me more than I ever thought possible.” I gesture at the cliffs nearby. “You gave me the whole freaking world, almost literally. The least I can do is give you some kids.”
“I don’t think it works like that.” He bits his lip. “Are you sure?”
“I’m sure.”
He pulls me against him and kisses me again. “The fun part starts right now then.”
“Right now?” I squirm out of his arms. “Oh no, no way. We’ll get caught.”
“Why not?” There’s a gleam in his eyes.
“Jace!”
He laughs as I run away from him. He comes after me and I’m laughing as he swoops me up into his arms, hugging me tight from behind. He turns me around and kisses me again, this time slower, deeper. When I pull away, our eyes lock.
“We’ll never stop having the world,” he says softly. “But we’ll make it a little bit bigger first.”
“Yeah, we will,” I say softly. “Our little babies. I wonder what they’ll be like?”
“Perfect.”
We start walking again. I squeeze his hand and we look out over the ocean together. I can see it now, almost hear little kids running around us, getting into trouble, making everything harder, making everything worth it.
I can see them, our future, and I can’t wait.
I wasn’t kidding when I said Jace gave me the world already. We’ve been all over, everywhere imaginable, and we’ve done it together. Now the idea of having children just makes sense. I hadn’t thought of it before… but I’m ready for it. Another adventure, this one the most important adventure we’ll go on.
And I’m doing it with him. Jace, my husband, my love. He turned my life around, gave me something to believe in. He made himself better, and now we’re both reveling in that, improving every day, getting closer every second we’re near.
That’s what I stumbled into. My best friend, my husband. I didn’t know all those years ago in college that I’d end up with the playboy jerk that broke my heart. Well, I don’t think I did. That version of Jace is gone, just like
that version of me is gone, too.
I ended up with the perfect person. The one person I needed all my life. I’ll hold his hand, give him what he wants, and he’ll give me what I need in return. I’ll never let it go, because I know he won’t, either.
THANK YOU!
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My Brother’s Bad Best Friend Preview
Prologue
“You little fucking twat. You bring that shit into my house? My fucking house? You’ve been a goddamn burden on your mother for too fucking long now, you little shit, and you pull this? I’m going to break your smug little—”
I turn away from the scene in front of me, softly shutting the door. I can still hear Royal’s voice, grating like a fork down a chalkboard, anger tingeing every word. I step away from my brother’s room and head slowly down the steps before pausing halfway as Royal’s voice gets even louder. There’s a crash, and for a second I’m suspended in the air, my breath stuck in my lungs as I fall through the clouds. Terror rings all around me, but I don’t know why I can’t move.
It’s not like this is the first time that fucking asshole yelled.
“It’s almost funny.”
A new voice pulls me back to earth. I frown and slowly turn my head to find Jonas Larsen leaning against the wall at the bottom of the stairs, his shaggy hair falling down into his face, his baggy hoodie slightly askew like he was just in a scuffle. He looks up at me, a smile on his thick, full lips, and he raises a perfect eyebrow.
“I mean, the guy’s practically always drunk. And he’s pissed about a little weed?” Jonas snorts. “What a prick.”
“Yeah,” I manage to say. Jonas makes a little motion with his head and pushes up off the wall, walking toward the kitchen. I follow him like there’s a tether wrapped around my waist. He’s magnetic, especially now, when I’m so afraid for my brother that I want to cry.
Instead, I sit down across from Jonas at the kitchen island as he rummages through the refrigerator.
“You guys have this big fucking kitchen and there’s nothing to eat,” he grumbles, and pulls out a bottle of kombucha. “Like, what the fuck is this?”
I laugh a little bit despite myself. “Kombucha. My mom drinks it.”
He opens it and sniffs. “Smells like feet.”
“Yeah,” I agree, not sure what else to say. This is the most I’ve ever spoken to Jonas, my brother’s best friend. He’s been floating in and out of my life for a few years now, and I know a million stories about him. I know about the time he broke into the janitor’s closet in high school and spilled a can of white paint in the middle of the gym to protest the school spending more on basketball than books. I know about the time he slept with a teacher, and about the time he went to jail for a few months for possession. I know about the drug dealing and the partying and the fights. He and his skater friends are pretty notorious around San Diego, and I’ve always been a little afraid of him.
Ezra says he’s harmless, but I don’t know. He’s standing in front of me, rummaging through the cabinets with a scowl on his face, and I still think he’s the most terrifying guy I’ve ever met.
He’s also the most interesting, which is the reason I’m sitting down here instead of up listening to Royal scream at Ezra again.
“Bingo,” Jonas says, pulling out a jar of peanut butter. A second later, he finds a bag of wheat bread. “Close enough,” he grumbles as he pulls out a plate and a knife. “Although this should be white.”
“Mom says that’s basically just sugar loaf.”
“It is,” he agrees, and holds up the peanut butter. “What do you think Jif is, though?”
I shrug. “Peanuts are healthy.”
“Not when they’re covered in sugar.” He takes a huge glob and spreads it over a piece of bread. “Usually I’d toast this, but I don’t think we have time.”
“Time?” I echo, not really sure what he means.
He glances up at me, still frowning, but his expression softens a bit. “Nothing,” he mumbles, and goes back to making the sandwich.
I sit there and watch him as he works. Jonas the drug dealer, Jonas the skater, Jonas the menace. He’s handsome in a way that’s hard to explain, with almost severe high cheekbones, light brown hair, and gray-blue eyes the color of morning ocean. He catches me staring but he doesn’t say anything as he finishes up and presses the top slice onto the bottom, squishing the peanut butter just a little bit.
“Here,” he says, sliding the plate across the island to me.
I stare down at the sandwich sitting in front of me. “Thanks,” I say.
I pick it up. I’m not hungry. I really just want to leave here, go plug my ears up, maybe cry for an hour. I want to know where mom is right now, and why she lets Royal do this to Ezra. Whenever I ask, she just shakes her head.
”He’s a boy and he’s five years older, he gets treated different.
I’d believe her if it were true.
I lift the sandwich to my mouth and take a bite. I chew and swallow, practically on autopilot, but it’s good. I take another bite and Jonas leans toward me, eyes serious and searching for something.
“Listen kid, your brother can handle it, okay?” he says suddenly.
I’m too surprised to respond. I just keep chewing as he looks at me again.
“He can handle it, okay? Whatever it is. Your stepdad’s a fucking asshole, but your brother’s a good guy. Don’t forget it.”
I finally finish chewing and swallow. “I know,” I say.
“Good.” He nods once. He’s twenty years old, but to me, he’s ageless. Timeless. For a while, this is how I think about Jonas, even if I see him around every so often.
I think about him in my kitchen, trying to console me and doing a shitty job, but trying anyway.
He stands up straight and looks past me. I turn around in my seat as Ezra walks toward us, his face clouded by anger, his eye swollen and angry-red.
“He hit you?” Jonas asks, sounding almost bored.
“Yep.” Ezra hefts a bag onto the island. “We’re going.”
“Yeah,” Jonas grunts.
“Wait a second.” I stand up as Jonas comes around the island and joins Ezra. The two guys start walking toward the front door. Jonas takes Ezra’s bag almost as an afterthought, something else I can’t stop thinking about. Why take his bag, why carry it for him?
Maybe he just wanted to share the weight.
Jonas pushes open the door and steps outside as Ezra turns to me. He forces a smile, pushes past the anger and pain.
“I’ll be okay, Lizzie,” he says. “Tell mom I’m not coming back this time.” He hesitates a second, eyes looking past me toward the stairs where I know our stepfather is standing and watching this. Ezra looks back at me and lowers his voice. “If he hits you, tell me and I’ll come get you. Okay?”
“Okay,” I say.
He steps closer. “Don’t let him touch you, Lizzie.” His voice is low and harsh.
“I won’t.”
He nods and pulls me in for a one-armed awkward hug. We don’t hug, we never hug. He treats me like an annoying puppy most of the time, but for the first time in my life, I think he can actually see me.
The moment is ruined when Royal’s harsh voice cuts across the room. “You’re done, Ezra. You’re out of here.”
“I know,” Ezra says, and leaves our house forever.
I catch one more glimpse of Jonas. He hefts E
zra’s bag into the back of his old, beat-up Jeep. He glances back at me and nods, one eye gleaming through his shaggy brown hair.
They climb into the car and drive off as Royal tells me to get the fuck back inside or I’m next.
1
Jonas
In all my years selling weed, I never thought I’d actually make a living from the fucking stuff.
I glance over my shoulder, feeling a little paranoid, although Big John’s standing guard outside just in case. I turn back to the safe and rotate the dial between my fingers, flicking over the six-digit combination by rote feel. The lock clicks as I rotate the handle and pull the heavy steel door open, revealing stacks of fucking cash.
I smile to myself. This part never, ever gets old. It’s loosely arranged by denomination, with big notes on top and low ones on the bottom. We try to convert as many singles, five, tens, and twenties into hundreds as possible but my guy at the bank’s been a pain in the ass lately, so we’re flush with petty bills.
I reach in and grab a stack of twenties, counting out eight hundred as fast as I can. As much as I love staring at all this cash, over fifty grand all told, it still drives me insane. The weed game is a cash business, and cash businesses are prone to robbery. I’d rather keep all this shit in the bank, maybe invest some of it, but technically weed is still illegal in the good old USA. Here in California, we’re a little more enlightened. We know a little dope never hurt anyone, but hey, the world’s catching up with us.
I slam the door shut and lock it again, instantly feeling better. I slip the cash into my jeans and push open my office door. “All good.”
Big John nods at me. He’s tall and beefy, the kind of guy that placed lineman in high school but wasn’t fast enough to go play in college. He’s a nice enough dude, quiet in that intimidating kind of way, but I know better than to fuck with Big John. I once watched John smash this guy’s face against a curb for, and I quote here, “judging the way I drink my damn soda pop, motherfucker.”