A Measure of Love

by Sophie Jackson

  “This is the ‘love wall.’ ” She pushed her glasses up her nose before she picked a note and pulled it carefully from the mirror. “I ask each customer who comes in to leave a love note before they leave. Here.”

  She handed the note over as Amanda asked, “A love note to whom?”

  “To themselves,” Lexie answered. Some notes made Lexie laugh, others made her cry, and some simply made her thank God for the family she loved and friends who cared for her. “I ask my customers to look in the mirror and write a note detailing at least one thing they love about themselves,” Lexie continued. “Each one is signed off already.” She placed a finger at the bottom of the note where it read simply:

  Love, You.

  “The name of the store,” Amanda murmured as she read the note Lexie had handed her: I love your green eyes, your red hair, and your tenacious attitude. Love, you.

  The note that had been next to it merely stated: Your ass! LOL! Love, You.

  “Some people find it easy to write a few things,” Lexie mused. “Some find it hard to write even one.”

  “This is great,” Amanda said, her attention on a note that read: Your mad kitchen skillz!

  Lexie smiled. “So, my suggestion.” Amanda looked back at her and Lexie handed her a love note that was blank, save for the Love, You at the bottom. “Write down three things you love about yourself and I’ll knock twenty percent off the bracelet.”

  Amanda’s eyes widened. “You’d do that?”

  “If you’re honest, sure.”

  Seemingly panicked by the prospect, Amanda asked, “Wait, three things?”

  Lexie placed a hand on Amanda’s arm again. “Use the mirror. It might be easier than you think. Come find me when you’re done.”

  Lexie made her way from the “Love Wall” across the store, smiling at her regular customers and stopping to introduce herself to those who were new. She glanced over to a far corner where Jaime, her store manager, was explaining to a young guy who’d bought a necklace for his boyfriend the difference between engraving and embossing. The store did both, and it was usually done while the customer waited. Each piece of jewelry, depending on design, could fit a personal message of up to ten words.

  “Lexie?” Lexie turned to see her newest staff member, Annie, looking a little flustered. “I’m sorry, but this gentleman”—she gestured toward a well-dressed man standing by the register—“wondered if you would be able to design a piece for his fiancée—well, his future fiancée. He’s going to propose and wants a special ring.”

  “No problem.”

  Yeah, it was going to be a busy day. And Lexie loved it. As much as she’d worried and fretted over putting money into a dream she’d had for years, every time she saw the receipts and price tags with her brand, Love, You by Lexie, printed on them, she felt a surge of pride and excitement. It had taken a lot of hard work, patience, and resilience to be where she was today, but it had all been totally worth it.

  Catching a glimpse of herself in the mirrored wall as she approached Annie’s customer, Lexie found she liked what she saw. Her hair, which she’d twisted up and fastened with two pencils, was still as blonde as it had been when she was small, and the glasses she wore when her eyes were too tired for contacts were the same shade of pink she’d loved forever. The tattoos on her left arm, reaching from her shoulder to her elbow, as well as the ones on the inside of her right forearm, added color and a story to her otherwise boring, pale skin, while the several piercings in each ear and the one in her septum glinted prettily under the store spotlights.

  As they had gotten older, her sister, Savannah, described Lexie as having a “sexy edge,” and she was happy to agree, especially coming from someone as beautiful and intelligent as her younger sister.

  An hour later, the initial ring designs had been approved by the nervous future groom and Amanda’s bracelet and ring had been paid for and bagged, after her love note, which read, Your indomitable spirit, your creativity, and your full lips, had been added to the “Love Wall.” Lexie flicked the edge of it proudly. Originally, Savannah had been skeptical of offering a discount for notes, but Lexie’s argument for it had stood strong. If it took taking a few dollars’ loss on some of her pieces for someone to take a moment and embrace the worth within herself, then so be it. It may have sounded hokey, but Lexie believed in it all the same.

  She was adjusting a stand full of necklaces when the front door of the store opened and Savannah walked in. The hair on Lexie’s neck immediately stood on end when she noticed her sister’s expression.

  “What happened?” she asked quickly. “Where’s—?”

  Savannah put her hands up. “He’s fine. He’s with Mom.”

  Lexie swallowed her heart back down into her chest and tilted her head toward a door that led to the engraving and embossing room, a kitchenette, a storeroom, and the stairs up to the apartment Jaime rented from Lexie. Lexie had barely closed the door behind them when her sister spoke.

  “Riley’s in town.”

  It was strange how life could move along so peacefully, so perfectly, until someone uttered a few words like, “Your father’s dead” or “I’m tired of trying,” and in a split moment, everything changed. It had been a long time since it had occurred, but Lexie would recognize it anywhere.

  This was one of those moments.

  Lexie wasn’t sure how long she’d stared at Savannah before she regained the use of her voice. “Where?”

  “At the park.”

  “He saw you?”

  Savannah nodded and moved toward a small fridge in the corner of the kitchenette. She pulled out a bottle of water and unscrewed the lid. “Yeah, he saw us.”

  Us. Her next question didn’t need to be uttered; the answer was clear as day on her sister’s face. Lexie slumped against the nearest wall, her legs suddenly feeling shaky.

  “He was a distance away, and we left before he could come closer or say anything else.”

  Lexie blanched. “He talked to you?”

  “He said my name.”

  Lexie removed her glasses and clasped the bridge of her nose. “Shit.”

  A part of Lexie knew seeing Riley again was inevitable—she’d known it the moment she’d moved back to Traverse City three years ago and learned that Joan and Park Moore still lived here. But she’d also hoped that, like the last time Riley was in town, she could avoid him. The last words they’d said to one another hadn’t been of the loving and caring variety, and by the time she’d needed to see him and talk, he’d been sent to prison for eighteen months. With everything that had happened since, on top of having an endless list of concerns about reconnecting with a man who’d spent time in prison, time had sped up and slipped away from her, taking the window of opportunity with it.

  She’d heard from a friend at the hospital that Park Moore had been admitted, and after Lexie asked about his condition, she’d taken a deep breath and concluded that Riley and his brothers would spend their days five miles away at Munson and everything would be fine.

  Never had she considered that he’d be hanging out at the damned park.

  “Who was he with?” The question was out before she could stop it, even though she knew she had absolutely no right to ask.

  Savannah shrugged, keeping her eyes on the floor. “A pregnant woman I didn’t recognize. He was playing with a little girl in the sandbox.”

  The way Lexie’s heart somersaulted in her chest made her reach for the door handle at her side in an effort to stay upright. Her ears rang. Pregnant woman. A little girl. He was playing with a little girl in the sandbox. And, sweet Jesus, couldn’t she just imagine him with her? She coughed a ragged breath. No. She wouldn’t allow herself to imagine it or allow the dark questions to creep up into her mind. It hurt too damned much.

  Savannah moved closer. “What are you going to do?”

  “Nothing,” Lexie answered, immediately shaking her head and replacing her glasses.

  Savannah blew out a breath that was all
frustration. “Lex.”

  “No. He’ll stay until his dad’s better, then go back to New York and everything will be fine.”

  Savannah licked her lips. “Maybe this is the time to tell him. I know you wanted to wait, but school starts in September. That was always your deadline.”

  Lexie nodded sharply. “I know.” But she was terrified. “I know.”

  “Lex.” Savannah moved closer. “What if he decides to take a trip this side of town?”

  Lexie’s pulse rate soared. “Then we deal with it.” She swallowed. “I deal with it.”

  · · ·

  Fifteen years ago . . .

  “Riley, come and help me out back, please.”

  From his slumped position on the sofa, Riley ignored his father, rolled his eyes, and shoveled another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

  “Riley Lincoln Moore, that wasn’t a question!”

  From the floor, seated in front of the TV, Dex snorted. “Dude, you just got full named and it’s not even Sunday.”

  No, it wasn’t Sunday. It was Saturday. The Saturday after a week from hell, and the last thing Riley wanted to do was help his father do . . . whatever the hell it was he wanted him to do. Dex’s blue eyes shined with amusement behind his black-rimmed glasses, making Riley curl his lip at his oldest brother. Dex chuckled harder.

  “I’m busy!” Riley shouted back in reply. “But Dex is more than eager to help you.”

  The smile dropped off Dex’s face like a stone in water. “Really?”

  The smack to the top of Riley’s head halted the smart-ass response he was going to fire back at Dex, while simultaneously causing him to flail and spill milk all over the crotch of his The Flash pajama pants.

  “Goddammit,” he swore, holding his bowl out in one hand, arms wide. He held his breath, realizing what he’d just said in front of his father.

  “Get up,” his father ordered, glaring down at Riley, apparently letting the curse slide.

  “But Dad,” Riley began in that whiney voice that could result in another smack.

  “But Dad nothing,” the man grumbled, pointing a finger in Riley’s face. “Get your ass dressed in clothes you don’t care about getting dirty and meet me in the backyard in ten minutes. And trust me, son, you don’t want me to have to come and get you again.”

  The look he shot Riley always had all four Moore boys jumping in whatever direction their father wanted at lightning speed and, despite Riley feeling like crap, this time was no exception. With his bowl in the kitchen sink, he thumped up the stairs, dried himself, and then dressed in an old pair of jeans and an old T-shirt before joining his father in the backyard.

  Park Moore was a large, formidable man. He had shoulders the width of a barn door, without having to work out too much, and hands the size of shovels. As a kid, Riley had always been in awe of the man’s size, but now he was envious. He hoped to God that he’d be the same when he was older.

  Riley couldn’t be too down about it—he’d definitely had a growth spurt over the last year, hitting almost six feet, but his arms and legs were still lean and gangly. How was it fair that his younger brother, Seb, was already growing muscles at the age of twelve? And Tate, with his dreams of being in the military, was always running and competing in sports at school, so he was fairly ripped. Riley wasn’t a slouch—he ran and played football three times a week—but he was still built like a damned green bean.

  It wasn’t fair.

  Life wasn’t fair!

  Riley huffed and looked over the piles of wood and paint that his father was standing next to. “So what are we doing?” he asked petulantly.

  “We’re building the fence your mother wants.”

  Riley frowned. “Hasn’t she been wanting a new fence since Christmas?” He glanced around himself. “It’s May.”

  “Yes,” Park replied with an exasperated sigh. “But I have the time now that I’m on vacation from work and I need your help.”

  Pushing his hands into his jeans pockets, Riley shrugged. “Help doing what?”

  “I need you to knock down the old fence and help me put up the new one.”

  Riley considered his father for a moment, noticing the large mallet resting against a pile of timber. “I get to use that?”

  Park followed Riley’s gaze. “Can I trust you not to kill yourself or anyone else with it?”

  “I can’t promise anything if Dex comes out here, but I’ll do my best,” Riley offered, glimpsing a small smile twitch at the corner of Park’s mouth.

  “Then it’s a deal.”

  Riley heaved the mallet over to the old fence, which in reality looked as though a slight breeze could knock it down, and glanced back at his father.

  “Hands close to the head of it,” Park instructed, clutching an invisible mallet, his hands clenched as fists in the air. “You let it get away from you and that’s when the problems start.”

  Riley did as he was told and glared at the fence before he took a mighty swing and slammed the mallet head into it. The timber and concrete posts gave under the force, yielding a satisfying crack. Riley did it again even harder, until, with just three swings, the fence panel and post were all but rubble at his feet.

  “That’ll work,” Park commented, his tone satisfied if not a little surprised. He twirled his index finger. “Now do it again to the rest of them.”

  Riley grinned and set about pummeling the fence with everything he had. The delicious burn through his arms and the satisfaction he got from hearing the cracks and snaps almost dissolved the anger that had been boiling in his belly for a week. He almost forgot how hurt he was when he’d learned that Lexie was going to the end-of-year dance with Blake fuckin’ Richards instead of him, and the jealousy, which had Riley pinning the guy to a locker when he’d overheard him bragging about Lexie to his buddies, slowly turned from an all-out inferno to a gentle simmer.

  Yeah, there was a lot to be said for hitting things to release tension.

  When they’d worked halfway around the yard, Park fetched two cans of soda and two sandwiches to eat on the back porch. Riley sat with a groan, his back muscles protesting at the movement, and set about eating his lunch.

  “You’ve done a good job,” Park said, looking at Riley’s handiwork before sliding his gaze over to him. “Feel better?”

  Riley held his breath. He could detect a heart-to-heart coming a mile off, and Riley certainly wasn’t about to discuss Lexie with his dad. It was bad enough when his mother asked questions. “I’m fine,” he said in lieu of anything else.

  “Your mother’s worried.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “So you’ve said, but I call bull.”

  Riley placed his half-eaten sandwich at his feet and exhaled. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “I get that.” Park nodded in Riley’s periphery. “I do. And I don’t want to pry.”

  Riley huffed and rolled his eyes. “Mom’s probably told you everything anyway.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  Riley had to smirk at that one. “It’s nothing.”

  His dad placed his plate down, too, and moved a little closer until their shoulders touched. “You and Lexie have been friends for a long time.”

  “Yeah,” Riley remarked bitterly. “Which doesn’t seem to matter to her.”

  “And that hurts because you like her.”

  Riley cleared his throat and shrugged. “She’s my friend.”

  “And a very pretty girl.”

  The sound that came from Riley was somewhere between a protest and an embarrassed laugh. He shook his head. It didn’t matter that his father was right. Yes. Lexie was pretty. He fisted his hands between his knees.

  Okay, really pretty.

  Over the last few months, Riley had noticed that fact more and more—the way her blonde hair always looked great, the way her nose scrunched when he made her laugh, or how soft her skin was whenever he got the chance to touch it. The list of things he liked about her seeme
d to grow longer and longer as the days passed, leaving his head in a complete mess. Riley wasn’t sure how it had happened or why, but his best friend whom he’d built spaceships with, collected worms with, and climbed trees with was now a girl who, when they touched, made his belly feel funny. He knew he’d always been a little possessive of her—he’d defended and protected her whenever she’d needed him to; she was his best friend, after all—but this was different. He felt different. Being just friends didn’t seem enough for him anymore.

  He’d done his best to behave normally around her and, as far as he could tell, he’d managed it. No one had said anything, at least. Except maybe his mother and Seb. Whatever. Riley couldn’t deny a part of him hoped that maybe Lexie liked him in the same way, but apparently, with her going to the dance with someone else, he was deluding himself.

  “It doesn’t matter,” he mumbled before taking a giant swig of his soda.

  “Because of this Richards punk?”

  Riley snorted at the way his father spat the name.

  “So she picked him to go to this dance over you?”

  Riley rubbed his hands through his hair.

  His father hummed. “So what did she say when you asked her to the dance?”

  Riley frowned. “Nothing. I didn’t ask her.”

  Park narrowed his eyes. “You didn’t ask her,” he clarified, to which Riley shook his head. “But I thought you wanted to take her?”

  “I do. I did,” Riley blurted.

  “So why the hell didn’t you ask her?”

  “Because . . .” Riley tried to come up with an answer but was suddenly struck with the overwhelming feeling that he’d truly screwed up. “I just assumed she’d—”

  His words were cut off by his father’s loud belly laugh. It echoed around the yard and, despite it normally being an infectious sound, it caused a large bubble of annoyance to swell in Riley’s chest. “I’m glad you find this all so funny,” he griped.

  Park clapped a hand against Riley’s back before he got up and stormed back into the house. “Oh, Riley.” His father tried to calm himself by putting the back of his hand to his mouth. “Son,” he muttered into it. “Listen, if I had to give you only one piece of advice in your entire life regarding women, it’d be to never assume anything!”