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

by Angel Lawson

  “Starlee,” my grandmother says the instant I enter the office, “I’m glad you’re here. Can you take this extra key to the big cottage?”

  “Sure,” I say, happy to head back outside.

  “If you see Charlie, tell him thank you for checking on the cable box in cottage eight.”

  “Yeah, sure.”

  I’m walking down the path and see the front door of cottage eight open. Charlie must be inside now.

  I keep going until the big cottage comes into view. I climb the steps and take in the wet clothes hanging off the bannister and a pair of soaked boots by the mat. I knock on the door. It takes a moment, but I hear movement behind the door and Jordan answers. Shirtless.

  “Hey,” he says, a slow smile spreading across his lips when he sees me.

  “Hi, uh, here’s the extra key.” I hold it out and he takes it with his right hand. In his left is a clean shirt.

  “Thanks, the others wanted to hike a bit longer. I think that’s because they didn’t fall in the river and get drenched.”

  “Ah, sounds legit.” I try to keep my eyes off his overly-defined chest. He’s only the second male I’ve seen shirtless in person—the other being George,. who’s fit, but Jordan is older. Bigger. Not particularly better looking, although I’ve seen enough romance covers to know this kind of guy is supposed to be appealing. I just find him…intimidating. “Well, let us know if you need anything else.”

  “Will do.” He pulls his shirt over his head. The cuffs strain against his large muscles. I take a step back toward the porch steps. “Hey, I have an idea.”

  “You do?”

  “Since I have nothing to do this afternoon, maybe you could show me around?”

  Panic bubbles in my chest. “Uh, I don’t think I can.”

  He pouts. “Why not? You’re a local—don’t you know your way around?”

  “I’m not really local.” My eyes dart behind my shoulder, looking for an excuse. “I just moved here.”

  “Oh, then we can sightsee together.”

  “I, uh.” My cheeks are on fire. I’ve never had someone—a man—approach me like this. It’s flattering—sort of—and scary and I’m completely, totally out of my wheelhouse. I want to say that there’s something about him I find intimidating but I’ve spent my whole life being afraid of men. It makes it hard to know what’s valid and what isn’t.

  “Starlee?”

  I turn at the sound of my name. Charlie. He stands on the path with a coil of black wire in his hand.

  “Oh good.” I fumble down the steps. “Leelee wanted me to find you.”

  “Ugh, not another cable box? I think the last one had a wire eaten through it by a squirrel or something.”

  “Yes, another one. I should show you.” I glance back at Jordan. “Sorry, work.”

  “Sure, yeah,” he says, but the pout lingers. “Maybe later?”

  I nod and bump into Charlie, pushing him away from the cottage. When we get around the corner, I stop and exhale.

  “So which cottage are we looking for?” Charlie asks.

  “There’s no cable problem. I lied.” I have no idea why I’m admitting this.

  “Why?” Charlie frowns and his forehead creases. I notice how pink his lips are and how pale his skin. His eyes are bright green, matching his brother’s.

  “That guest, he was kind of asking me out and I felt uncomfortable.”

  The crease deepens. “Did he say anything inappropriate?”

  “No. I swear. I just…I don’t have a lot of experience with guys and Jordan’s older, and…” I shudder. It’s ridiculous. The man did nothing to me except express some interest. Why am I being so weird?

  “Hey,” he says, “don’t feel bad. If he can’t handle a little rejection, then he’s a jerk.”

  I don’t know how to tell Charlie that he didn’t get angry, but that I’m just so socially inept that a guy asking me to go sightseeing made me panic. And seeing him shirtless. God, I’m pathetic. My heart started beating in a whole other way…a more familiar way. Sheer anxiety.

  “It’s not him,” I say quietly. “It’s me. I just don’t know how to function. All those years of being alone…it’s made the most normal situation turn me into a mess.”

  “A guy greeting you at the door with his shirt off isn’t exactly normal, Starlee. It’s kind of gross. Trust me, we’ve had to explain this to George like, ten times.”

  I look up at that and see the quirk of a grin on his mouth.

  “George isn’t intimidating.”

  “No, he isn’t. He’s a complete goof-nut, but that guy knows how he’s perceived. He’s ripped. On purpose. Like the ‘roided-out kind of thing.”

  “So my reaction isn’t that off base.”

  “No, it’s your gut telling you to be careful. I’d listen to it.”

  My gut. Instincts. I’d never had to use those before. All obstacles were removed from my life. I didn’t know the difference.

  Until now.

  “Thank you for saying that.” I’m still shaking—my body is visibly trembling.

  “It’s something I’ve learned in gaming. Be aware of your surroundings and always trust your instincts. It’s saved my ass more than a few times.”

  “Life lessons from a video game. Who knew?”

  He nods. “You can learn a lot in those games.”

  “I bet,” I say, running my hands down my arms. The whole situation gave me the chills.

  I’m totally shocked when Charlie asks, “Can I give you a hug?”

  “You’re asking?” God, I want one.

  “That’s Sierra’s first rule. ‘Hands to yourself.’ Unless you ask, of course, and you really look like you need a hug.”

  It’s kind of adorable that he’s asking permission and I nod, feeling bizarrely safe.

  He wraps his arms around me, pulling me tight against his chest. It’s a little awkward but I realize how I’ve never been this close to someone before—someone outside my family--and I lay my cheek on Charlie’s chest and inhale the scent of detergent and feel my nerves settling down.

  After a few minutes he says, “You ready to head back to the office?”

  I shake my head.

  “Do you want to come watch me play Fortnite?”

  “I don’t know what that is.”

  Behind his glasses, his eyes widen. “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  He checks his phone for the time. “I’m meeting some people to play in ten minutes. Come back with me.”

  It’s a strange invitation and it’s not lost on me that for the second time today a guy is asking me to do something, but this time it’s different. Charlie’s different, and I follow him to the Wayward Sun.

  14

  “Can someone bring me the spatula?”

  “Think fast!”

  “Dammit dude, that could have impaled me.”

  “Language.”

  “How is a spatula going to impale you? It has a flat surface?”

  “Duh, the end. God, you’re an idiot.”

  “I’m not an idiot, you’re a jackass.”

  “Language!”

  “Who has the cheese? If I’m supposed to put cheese on these burgers, then someone better hand me some cheese. Now.”

  I’m sitting in an Adirondack chair in the backyard of the Wayward Sun. The coffee shop is closed, Growley is sitting on my lap, and I’m watching the boys make dinner.

  And fight about making dinner.

  And get admonished by Sierra every other word for cursing.

  It may be the best moment of my life.

  Charlie brought me over to the house just as the boys finished helping Sierra close the shop, and it was immediate sensory overload. The house was filled with noise, everything from fighting to shouting to laughter and joking. When Sierra invited me to dinner I almost bailed, but she told me to stay, begged me for companionship. “I can only take so much testosterone.”

  So I stayed. For her.


  I ease Growley to the ground and head into the kitchen, where Sierra cuts tomatoes and onions for the burgers. Feeling the desire to be helpful in some way, I grab the head of lettuce and pull off pieces, stacking them on a large patter on the kitchen table.

  “I hear you’ve been watching Supernatural,” she says suddenly. “How far have you watched?”

  “We’re almost at the end of season one. Thanks for letting us borrow it. I’m enjoying it.” I wipe my hands on the rag hanging from the stove. “Leelee’s digging it, too.”

  “Obviously, what’s not to love?” She smirks. “So who’s your favorite, Sam or Dean?”

  I wrinkle my nose. I’ve thought about this. Hard. There’s only one answer. “Do I have to choose?”

  She laughs. “Nope. It’s a fantasy and in a fantasy, you can keep them both.”

  “Good.”

  “And wait until Castiel shows up. You’ll want to keep him, too.”

  There’s a crash outside and George shouts, “It wasn’t me!”

  “Dude! There’s blood!” Charlie cries.

  “George McLauren, you better not hurt yourself! I’m not driving to the ER tonight!” Sierra shakes her head in resignation.

  “Does that happen a lot? The ER?”

  He walks in right when I say it, blood dripping from his finger. “I swear it’s not bad. Just a Band-Aid.”

  She reaches for his hand and studies it. “Go get one from the bathroom. Do not make a mess.”

  She sighs. “To answer your question, yes, we go to the ER constantly. They know him by name.”

  He comes back in with his finger wrapped in a towel and the bandages held between his lips. His light brown hair tumbles in his eyes and he kicks the kitchen chair out of the way and plops in the seat. He raises his eyes at Sierra, asking for help. Her hands are covered in onions and tomato juice. I jump in.

  “I can do it,” I say, walking over to him. I pull the bandages from his mouth and he releases them slowly, licking his lips when they’re clear. “Thanks, Starlee.”

  “How bad is it?”

  “Really not that bad. I just dropped the plate—withnothingonit,” he adds quickly, “and when I picked it up a sharp edge sliced my finger.”

  “Of course it did, because why would you be careful while picking up sharp pieces of ceramic?”

  He rolls his eyes, making me notice how very green they are.

  Carefully, I take his hand and remove the towel. Now that it’s clean and blood isn’t dripping so badly, it’s obvious the cut isn’t that bad. “I think we can skip the ER.”

  “Thank goodness,” Sierra mutters.

  “So what else have you gone to the ER for?” I ask, but I have my suspicions. George’s body is covered in scars.

  He lifts up knee and touches the deep gouging scar. “This one I got chasing a chicken around the back yard. Landed on a rock, right on my knee.”

  “There was blood everywhere. I almost vomited,” Sierra adds. “Everywhere. In his shoe, on the driveway.”

  “Because you were chasing a chicken?”

  “A fast chicken.”

  “Okay, what’s next?”

  “This one came when we were hiking and I slid down some rocks.”

  “Just hiking?”

  Sierra snorts.

  “Okay, climbing a waterfall.”

  “That was marked off limits by the rangers.”

  “I misjudged the jump,” he says, giving me a wink. I don’t fight the grin that appears or the flutter in my stomach. “It was no big deal.”

  “It was in the national park. He had to take an ambulance out and get thirty-six stitches.”

  I remove the bandage from the wrapper and make sure the wound is clean. He holds it up for me and our faces are very close together. I like being this near him. I like his smell and his smile. I like how he’s a total mess and just owns it.

  I fold the adhesive around his finger, settling the padding over the wound. “What about the one on your back? Sky diving? Mountain climbing? White water rafting?”

  His eyes flicker, turning dark with something I don’t recognize, and his mouth turns down. Sierra is silent for a moment then says, “I think we’re ready. Jake! Are the burgers ready?”

  “Yep!”

  “We’re coming out! Starlee,” she nods at the package on the table, “grab those buns.”

  “Sure.” I glance at George and whatever passed between us has vanished, his easy smile back on his face. He’s cleaning up the mess from his injury, plucking bleach wipes from a container by the sink.

  Sierra gives him a look and he just nods before she walks out the door.

  “Thanks for fixing me up,” he says, holding up his finger.

  I want to apologize. I want to know what made him upset. I want to know so many things like, why couldn’t I not do something wrong every time I’m with these guys?

  I just say, “Any time,” and pick up the bag of buns and head for the backyard.

  The food’s arranged on a sideboard and to my surprise the boys are all waiting for me when I step outside. “Grab your plate,” Sierra says. “Guests go first.”

  “Oh, that’s not necessary.”

  “Yes, it is. Once they get the go ahead there’ll be nothing left but crumbs.”

  I cast a glance over the boys, who wait anxiously. I get my plate and fill it. Sierra gets hers next, taking her time, and once we’re both finished she walks to the door and says, “I’ll be up in my room. Watching a little SPN and relaxing. You guys have fun. No fires. No fireworks. No—”

  “Fun,” George mumbles.”

  She shoots him a glare. “And clean up—don’t make Starlee do it.”

  Wait, what? I want to shout, realizing I’m suddenly alone with the four of them. Sierra is my buffer. The one that makes it okay for me to be here. This…this is a violation of the rules. Big time. All of this is running through my head when Jake bumps my elbow with his and asks, “You eating standing up?”

  “Uh, no,” I say, going back to the seat I was in before. We’re in a tight circle. Charlie to my left. His phone is on the arm of his chair face down and I don’t recall him being on it all night. Maybe there’s a no device rule at dinner.

  Not that they have time for anything other than shoving food in their mouths. Holy crap.

  The boys are quiet while they stuff their faces and I’m shocked and amazed at how much and how quickly they eat. I take a bite of my burger and smile at Jake. “This is really good.”

  “Thanks. Everyone has a night to cook. Burgers are my specialty.”

  I look around the circle of guys. “What’s everyone else cook?”

  “Pizza,” says Charlie.

  “Pasta,” admits George with a shrug. The dark strain in his eyes has completely vanished. “We’re fans of carbs.”

  Dexter doesn’t respond, so I break the silence we’ve established all evening. “And what about Dexter?”

  “Well, obviously he’s the baker so if we’re lucky he’ll make pot-pie or something elaborate,” Jake says.

  “If he’s not being a pain,” George adds. Dexter glares at him and I’m glad for once I’m not on the other side of that look.

  “Your pies are awesome.” I think about it for a minute. “Did you start baking them for Sierra and the whole Supernatural thing?”

  I’m not sure he’ll answer, but he nods. “I did.”

  “I bet Sierra loved it.”

  The boys grow quiet and I’m surprised when he continues. “Things were hard for Sierra for a while.” He shrugs. “Supernatural helped her get through it. Baking a couple pies was the least I could do, under the circumstances.”

  I don’t know exactly what those circumstances involved, but I can guess. They’re alone. His mother, at least, seems to be gone. He’s in and out of trouble. Sierra sacrificed a lot for him. She’s the Sam to his Dean. Or the Dean to his Sam.

  I’m not sure yet.

  The boys finish all their food and Charlie takes my
plate, not allowing me to clean up. I play with Growley in the yard, tossing a small plastic bone for him to fetch. There’s music and laughter coming over the fence from the lodge. Leelee was right, every day we got busier and more people were in and out of the lodge. I’d settled down from my encounter with Jordan earlier in the day and thankfully Charlie didn’t say anything. The others are in the kitchen but I spot him cleaning the grill, and I walk over.

  “Hey, how’d your gaming session go?” Once we got to the house everyone was there and dinner prep was in full swing.

  “Eh, I skipped it.”

  “You what?” George asks from the doorway. His eyes are wide.

  “Nothing,” Charlie mumbles and shrugs, focusing back on the grill.

  George’s eyes flit between us and he vanishes back into the house.

  “Maybe you can teach me that game another time.”

  “Sure.” A smile lifts the corners of his mouth.

  “And I wanted to thank you for coming to my rescue earlier. I don’t know what came over me.”

  “You don’t have to apologize, Starlee. That guy’s a creep.”

  “I don’t know. I think I was just being weird.”

  He levels me a hard look and repeats, “Creep. Trust your gut.”

  I can tell he means that, but what does that mean about what my gut is telling me now? How I feel safe and comfortable around these guys—even Dexter—who only makes me uncomfortable because he pushes all my buttons. That seeing them brings a smile to my lips, a flutter to my stomach. I’m excited to get up to see Jake every morning. To stumble upon George helping around the lodge. To have an excuse to ask Charlie for computer advice.

  Once everything is cleaned up I say to the whole group in the kitchen, “I really should go back before Leelee sends out a search team. Thanks for dinner, it was great.”

  A ripple exchanges between them, silent communication, that ends with Dexter looking at the floor and Jake busying himself at the counter. George says, “Come on Charlie, let’s walk Starlee back.”