Young Love

by Alyson Santos

  You knew I wanted kids. You broke our vows, not me, he’d said.

  I shake my head. Not even a tie, you bastard.

  “Okay, then. I’ll let you know when we’re ready for the wall unit. That’s mine too.”

  The knot rises to my throat, presses against tear ducts primed by history.

  Don’t! Not in front of him.

  “Fine,” I force out.

  “Can you get the door?”

  I hold it open as they maneuver the heavy box through it. The priceless object that’s now a dissected, hollow pile of dovetailed wood will never be loved the same again. Joe doesn’t look back once as he loads the pieces into his truck and pulls away. Mission accomplished. Return to his real life. The better life he found without me.

  I secure the lock on the door and climb the stairs, fighting the pressure that’s suddenly spread up to my eyes. My throat constricts.

  Don’t! He’s not worth it.

  Stacks of clothing are heaped on my bed. Some have toppled into a mangled grave on the floor. Discarded, violated by callous strangers and a man who cares more about a piece of furniture than me. Than the sixteen years of our lives we devoted to each other.

  “I met someone.”

  A scream presses out of my lungs as I sweep the rest to the floor. Fling them into walls. Rip apart one more piece of my past and collapse to the bed under the weight of tears.

  I wake the next morning with a pounding headache. Crying myself to sleep hasn’t been part of the bedtime routine for a while. Guess my body forgot how to deal with it.

  I navigate the desert of clothing dunes on my way to the bathroom and somehow manage to get into the shower without injuring myself. A quick wash, dry, and tooth-brushing, and it’s a haphazard sift through piles for an outfit. Sweats and a sports bra coordinate nicely with the wet hair twisted up in a clip. No makeup either because who gives a shit anymore?

  Jace… Fuck it. Time for him to see what I am. End this bullshit game before it hurts. He said he didn’t like playing. Could’ve fooled me.

  I do my best to avoid him that day. It’s not hard with our tacit agreement to keep our distance during work hours. Still, I’m aware of his curiosity every time he passes my office. Or is it concern? I don’t allow myself to absorb it enough to find out.

  Want. Such a lie. Jace Beckett is a liar, just like everyone else.

  Numbers, though? They don’t lie. Graphs, spreadsheets, formulas. They soothe and preach a truth that can’t be corrupted by emotion. They don’t betray. Steady and safe. Yes and no. Simple. Permanent. Certain. Black. And. White.

  My phone buzzes with a text, and I flinch. I can’t. Not now. Not when the veil has finally cleared and I’m back in control. So why do I check? Why do I expose myself to another round of painful rejection?

  Jace: What’s up? You okay?

  I pull in a deep breath and glance out the window. I can’t see him.

  Me: Fine. Why?

  Liar.

  Jace: Okay. Hang out tonight?

  Me: Can’t tonight.

  Jace: Can’t or won’t?

  Not sure how to answer that. It’s work hours. We shouldn’t be talking anyway. I tuck my phone under a pile of papers.

  I don’t hear from Jace again for the rest of the day.

  For a few brief seconds I consider ignoring the doorbell. Flashbacks of last night’s confrontation haunt the shadows in the hall. Is Joe back for the wall unit? Will his posse toss my TV on the floor so they can rip the panels apart? I pause my show, hop off the elliptical, and wipe the sweat from my face. I should’ve emptied the damn thing and dumped it on the lawn. Hell, with a sledgehammer and some pent-up rage, I could have disassembled it for him as well. Here you go. Perfect truck-sized pieces. Just load those babies in the bed.

  I adjust my ponytail as I approach the door and stop cold. His eyes meet mine through the glass, and I’m immediately aware of all that’s wrong with me.

  I pull open the door on autopilot, hating the way his expression falls when he sees me. Old, sweaty me who’s burning to take a baseball bat to living-room furniture.

  “Jace. What are you doing here?”

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “I live here.”

  A muscle moves in his jaw, and his gaze crosses my shoulder. “You alone?”

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Aqua eyes fall back on mine. “You said you were busy tonight.”

  Crap. I swallow and grip the edge of the door. “Jace…”

  “If you don’t want to continue this just tell me. I told you, I’m not into games.”

  There it is. The out I wanted this morning. So why this sudden panic?

  “You shouldn’t have come.”

  He scans me again. “Yeah? You want me to go?”

  Not even a little bit. I can’t look at him.

  “It doesn’t matter what I want. Why don’t you get that?”

  Wait… his shoulders actually relax. Is that a smile? “Ah, we’re back to that.”

  “We never resolved that. We live in different worlds, and you know it.”

  “Uh-huh.” His eyes lock on mine. “What’s really going on, Sienna?”

  What’s wrong is that I don’t want you to go! I should, but I—

  Reach out instead. Take his hand and guide him toward me. Then flinch when he cups my face, and he lets go.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I’m sweaty.”

  “Are you fucking serious?”

  “What? I was working out. I can’t imagine what I look like right now.”

  “You look hot. What do you think I look like when I work out?”

  “Like some kind of a Greek god,” I mutter.

  He laughs and pulls me into his arms. “Come here.”

  This time I let him hold me. I sink into his chest. My breaths come harder as the pain returns. Images of my broken dresser, abused and dissected by the man who promised to love me no matter what.

  “Joe was here last night,” I say quietly.

  Hard muscle tenses against my cheek, and I pull him tighter.

  “Your ex?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What did he want?”

  “A dresser for the baby’s room.”

  “Oh my god. Sienna, I’m so sorry.”

  The burn comes back, blazing wet and hot behind my eyes. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

  “Yeah well. It was his.”

  Jace wraps me completely in his arms, and I lose the battle with my tears. A strong hand moves through my hair as the pain leaks out. I feel the heat of his lips, his breath against my head. I don’t even know if I’m crying for what I’ve lost or what I’ve gained.

  I bury my face in his shirt and absorb the scent I’ve come to crave.

  What if want is actually the lie I need to believe?

  Jace looks ready to detonate when he sees my room.

  “I’ll fucking kill that bastard,” he spits, fingers balled at his side. He could too, with that expertly trained weapon he has. I take his deadly fist and bring it to my lips.

  “Please don’t. I have no time to visit you in prison.” He softens, and I turn his face to me, trace his cheek. “Thank you, though.”

  He grunts, plants a kiss on my forehead, and surveys the disaster that is my floor. “Guess we better clean this up.”

  “Aren’t you glad you came over?”

  He shoots me a wink and sets to work on the mound closest to him.

  With Jace’s help it only takes a few minutes to reorganize my clothing into neat, folded piles on the bed. Of course, he pays particular attention to sorting the former contents of my underwear drawer.

  “You need more of these,” he says, holding up a black lacy thong.

  “With this ass?”

  He rolls his eyes and drops it back on the pile. “Hey. I’m free Sunday evening if you want to go pick up a new dresser. I’ll bring my truck.”

  I still, heart pounding. Shopping for furni
ture with Jace Beckett?

  “What’s so funny?” he asks, a smile growing on his lips.

  “Nothing. Just thinking.”

  He raises a brow, and I slip my arms around his waist and stare up into his face.

  “Just, don’t you think it’s a little early to shop for bedroom furniture together?”

  I scream when he throws me over his shoulder and heads for the steps.

  Downstairs, Jace insists I don’t need a shower. “You always smell like lilacs,” he tells me. Not sure I believe him, but I agree to get us a snack instead, while he sifts through the movie guide.

  “Hope this is okay,” I say, placing a bowl of popcorn on the coffee table.

  “Same.” He motions toward the TV.

  “Superheroes?”

  He shrugs and grabs a handful of popcorn. “Good date movie,” he says, shoving several kernels into his mouth.

  Who am I to argue? I sit beside him, still self-conscious. “So this is a date?”

  “Yep.” Another handful of popcorn before he dusts off his fingers and pulls me against him. “Have you seen this yet?”

  “No.”

  “Perfect. You’re gonna love it.”

  “You’ve seen it?”

  “At least five times.”

  I give him a look, and he shrugs. “What? It’s hilarious.”

  “Wait, it’s a comedy?”

  He reaches for more popcorn. “Not supposed to be. You’ll see.”

  I don’t. As the movie goes, I see a decent high-budget action flick with high-budget actors doing high-budget stunts. Jace, however, is watching something else. He bursts out laughing, yet again, during an intense fight scene, and I yank the remote from his hand. After pausing the movie, I wave it at the screen.

  “Enough. What’s so funny?”

  “This whole thing! It’s hilarious.”

  “Um…”

  He sighs. “Okay, Sorry. It’s just…” He motions for the remote, and I hand it over. After rewinding several seconds, he plays the movie again. “The dust in this scene is epic. See how it covers every surface so it explodes each time they make contact? Looks like an advertisement for the world’s worst vacuum cleaner. Oh and this part.” He fast-forwards. “Watch this dude. Check out his stance when he throws that hook punch. No way he even stays on his feet let alone knocks the guy down. He’d have zero leverage from the ground leaning like that. Not that it matters since you can tell the other dude wasn’t even hit.”

  “I guess so?” Maybe not, but I love that he sees it. I love watching his face light up and peeking into his world. “I mean, I see the white dust. That’s not a martial arts thing?”

  “That amount? Only if you’re trying to debilitate your opponent via allergy attack.”

  I laugh, secretly enjoying the image of him sparring on a mat. Maybe I do need to check out his class.

  My gaze drops to the remnants of the bruise on his face, and my smile fades.

  “What?” he asks.

  I swallow, and reach over to brush the damaged area. “This.”

  “It’s nothing. Doesn’t even hurt anymore.”

  “I know, but…” My eyes rest on his. “How did he manage to hit you? I mean, with all your training.”

  He pulls away. “I told you not to worry about that.”

  “Of course I’m going to worry about it.” Wait… My heart stutters at a new thought, and I turn his face back to me. “You let him, didn’t you?”

  He ducks out of my reach and pushes to his feet. “I should probably get going. It’s past midnight.”

  “Why would you let him hit you? You could’ve taken him down without breaking a sweat.”

  “Sienna, please.”

  “You want to be here for me? Let me be here for you.”

  He sighs and shifts his gaze back to me. “It’s about perception. Power. I need him to think he has the upper hand. For now.”

  “For now?”

  Jaw set, eyes narrowed, I lose him again to some invisible object behind me. “I’m working on a plan for Aiden, okay? But it’s going to take time. I’m talking to a lawyer, and from a legal standpoint there’s not much I can do. Mom and Louis are shitty parents, but they’re not neglectful or abusive—yet. Until I can figure something out, I have to let Louis think he’s in control. It’s fine. I know how to take a punch.”

  “Exactly! He hurt you. Can’t you use that?”

  “One dude punching another dude? No way that accomplishes anything except getting me banned from my mother’s house and Aiden. I have to be careful how I play this.”

  I wish I had more arguments. Some words of advice. But no. All he gets from his date is a nod and spontaneous hug.

  “Are you still able to take him to the beach on Saturday?” His voice is quieter now.

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks, Sienna.”

  I lock my arms around him and wish I were a superhero too.

  Chapter 0 – 6 = -6

  Admittedly, small humans are not my forte. I try making conversation with the one in the backseat, but what adult can compete with the magic device in his hands? I turn up my favorite alternative station instead and let my mind take off as we drive the half hour to the beach. Jace’s schedule hasn’t allowed him to visit after work since movie night, which has proven difficult for someone who’s getting addicted to his presence. I glance over to the empty seat beside me, my heart clenching at the thought of his smile beaming back. That’s my brain now. Fabricating new cravings like Jace Beckett at the beach. Bare-chested, hair wet from diving through a wave, flashing those devastating aqua eyes through slick, tanned skin. A shudder runs through me and explodes into painful tingles. I want, and pull in a lungful of air to soothe the ache.

  “Miss Sienna?”

  “Yes?” I lower the radio volume.

  “Jace always takes me to the ice-cream place next to the parking lot.”

  “Is that so?”

  “Yep! Call him!”

  “I just might.”

  I smile into the mirror as he returns to his game.

  Ten minutes later, I pull into a parking space on a public lot. We collect our things from the trunk: a bag and small cooler for me, a wakeboard for Aiden.

  “You know how to use that?” I ask, only slightly teasing.

  He gives me the duh look I’ve seen on his brother, and another pang settles in my stomach. Is this going to be a constant affliction from now on? Death by longing? Gosh, I hope not.

  The sun blazes down to the soundtrack of crashing waves. Seagulls add their melody, and the smell of salt triggers a deep inhale to absorb it. I’m certain paradise will be an eternal loop of the moment you cross a dune into that sweet, soporific breeze of ocean.

  “Are you Jace’s girlfriend?” Aiden asks, breaking the spell.

  I swallow and try to read his face for clues. “Just his friend. He and Louis are working on my house.”

  Aiden nods. “Oh. Jace doesn’t like working on houses.”

  “No? He’s good at it.”

  The boy shrugs. “He’s good at everything, but Louis makes him.”

  “Oh yeah?”

  “Louis says he’s old enough to live on his own so if he doesn’t work for him he has to leave.”

  “Wow. Why do you think he doesn’t move out?”

  Aiden shrugs again. “We have a really nice pool at our house.”

  I bite my lip. “Right. Maybe that’s it. Do you like Louis?”

  The child’s eyes narrow as he looks away. I watch his small fist clench on the wakeboard.

  “You can tell me. I promise not to say anything to Louis.”

  Blue eyes tilt up to study me. Another pause, then a quick shake of his head. “He yells a lot.”

  “At you?”

  “And my mom. But mostly at Jace.”

  “What does he yell about?”

  “His money, I guess. And how mom should just spend it and stay quiet. Jace doesn’t like when he yells.”


  “No, I imagine not. Has Louis ever… hurt you?”

  Aiden looks away, grip tightening again. “Me? No.”

  “Your mom?”

  “I don’t think so. He almost did once but Jace wouldn’t let him.”

  “It’s good your brother was there to stop him.”

  “He’s always there. As much as he can be. Louis didn’t like it though.”

  “No?”

  He shakes his head. “They went out back. By the pool house and…”

  “And what?”

  I detect a shiver when he quiets. “Louis was so mad.” I’m dying to press further when his eight-year-old brain abruptly shifts to more attractive topics. “Oh! Let’s set up here. This is the best spot.” He kicks off his flip-flops and sprints to the surf. The pool house incident will have to wait.

  I track his progress while laying out our towels, and my haunted thoughts finally start to relax. There’s something peaceful about watching the boy’s careless plunge into joy. Want according to an eight-year-old isn’t even a choice. No guilt, no shame in being happy. No heavy expectations or elaborate requirements either.

  Sun + Wave = Bliss

  A flash of sunlight glares up from my bag, and I pull out my phone. Every urge in me wants to call Jace. To hear his voice and connect him to this incredible moment. Funny how different my equation is when I instinctively suppress it.

  “Wow, he’s mastered that thing. You must spend a lot of time at the beach.”

  I glance up and force a smile at the woman shielding her eyes from the sun.

  “Oh, he’s not—”

  “Carleigh was only one the first time we brought her to the beach.” She laughs and waves her hand. “Man, she hated the sand. She screamed and screamed. Now look at her.”

  I follow her gaze to the little girl swinging her arms while chatting with Aiden.

  “I’m Lena.”

  “Sienna,” I say, shaking her hand.

  “Mind if we join you? Empty here today.”

  “Not at all.”

  Lena begins spreading her blanket, and I help smooth the other end.

  “Thanks.” She drops down and pulls a water bottle from her cooler. “Want one?”

  “No thanks. We have some.” I return to my towel and prop myself up on my elbows to watch Aiden.