Young Love

by Alyson Santos

  My phone buzzes.

  Heart pounding, I glance down to my lap.

  Jace: Family bathroom in 5?

  It takes every measure of self-control I have not to turn. To calmly type: okay. To check the time and do one of the most anxious equations of my life. Only one thing could distract me from La Cantina’s enchiladas poblanas, and here I am, forcing my lips to the rim of a margarita glass instead of the best mole sauce in town. Four minutes.

  Thank goodness for top-rated Tex-Mex food when it saves me from further scrutiny. Kristin is lost in her chimichanga, Jocelyn in her albondigas. I know from experience Alexa’s chiles rellenos will keep her busy for the remaining three minutes until I can escape.

  I trace my fork through decadent mole to hide from any suspicion.

  Two minutes left, and a familiar profile sears a path toward the restrooms. Is my clock off? Was my math wrong? No, it’s Jace. Strategic, disciplined Jace who knows better than to raise brows with two simultaneous excursions down the same course. Still, one-hundred-twenty seconds is way too long when I know he’s alone, waiting. Doing heaven knows what with those heart-stopping eyes and breathtaking body.

  One minute.

  “Is something wrong with your enchiladas?” Jocelyn asks.

  I shift in my seat and force another smile. “Not at all. They’re great. I’m just not feeling well all of a sudden. Maybe the tequila?”

  “Aw really?”

  “Actually, yeah. I’m going to head to the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back.”

  I scoot out from the booth to a chorus of sympathy and maybe I’m not lying after all. My stomach is turning over, my breath coming in strange rhythms.

  The family bathroom is a single occupancy room. One toilet, one sink, one lock, and when I reach for it, it holds. I knock gently. The door cracks open and time stops again when I move inside.

  The door latches when my back presses against it. Staring, waiting, I burn at the look in his eyes as he battles himself.

  “You look good,” he says finally.

  His voice. God how I missed the depth of it. The way the slight rasp makes me quiver when he says—

  “Sienna?”

  I squeeze my eyes shut, tears burning. I didn’t want to do this! Why did I message him?

  And suddenly I’m sobbing against a warm t-shirt, nestling into a solid chest, clinging to hard shoulders. Suddenly, I’m lost and found all in one awful moment I know will be ripped away from me too soon.

  “I thought I could do this,” I whisper. “I was doing it.”

  “I know.” His breath against my hair, the crack in his voice, it’s too much, not enough. “I shouldn’t have asked you here.”

  No, he shouldn’t have. And I would have imploded if he hadn’t.

  “How’s Aiden?”

  “He’s fine.”

  “You’re mom?”

  “She’s a mess.”

  “You’re okay?” I look up to search his eyes for the real answer. No.

  I need more. Just a taste of his skin on mine, and I slip my hands under his shirt. Warmth. Hard lines I’ve memorized and fear one day I’ll forget. He inhales sharply when my fingertips dig in. I wait for him to be responsible and say no, to be the strong one. Instead, his body responds with an erection that should be mine to enjoy. My own body starts to rebel, compelled by need to connect with his in any way possible.

  “Don’t, Sienna,” he says when I reach into his jeans. But his groan tells me something else, the way his shoulders lean and his muscles arch into my caress.

  It’s not fair, but I can’t stop. I need more. His lips, his tongue. I need him to fill me and saturate that void I was just learning to survive. Without releasing my grip with my right hand, I thread my left into his hair, forcing his lips to mine. Agony. That’s the sound rumbling from his throat. A craving so desperate it absorbs my own.

  “Jace, please,” I gasp out. “One last time.”

  “I’m not going to fuck you in a kids’ bathroom.” It would’ve been funny if his voice wasn’t so heavy with pain.

  “So come over tonight. Just tonight, I promise.”

  A knock.

  “Fuck,” he mutters.

  Another knock.

  “Occupied!” he shouts.

  He pulls back, face stricken. My heart breaks when I read the guilt, the self-loathing. Responsible, disciplined Jace Beckett messed up for the second time—because of me. How much do I love him? Enough to prevent a third?

  “I’m sorry.” My apology this time. “I’m so sorry.” The burn of tears returns to my throat.

  His gaze. I’m sick at the thought that that look will belong to someone else one day.

  I turn away and rest my palms on the sink. Closing my eyes, I release the remaining tears down my cheeks and suck in a ragged breath. “You should go.”

  My only answer is the latch of a bathroom door.

  With a half-lie about being sick, I tell my friends I need to go home. It’s not hard to evade their questions and avoid their concerned looks. I am sick. A mess, actually, and when I glance at Jace’s booth on my way out, his seat is empty as well.

  It takes seven minutes of a full-on breakdown in the driver’s seat of my car before I feel composed enough to drive. Radio on, eyes sore, and throat parched, I make my way home. Every road sign, every landmark becomes an opportunity to distract my brain enough to stay on course. By the time I reach my driveway, I’m exhausted from concentration.

  A green belt taunts me from its position over the bannister when I enter. I’d left it in a hurry after changing for the celebration. Now?

  I pick it up and scale my fingers over the crisp, unbroken fabric. Never worn, it still maintains its folded kinks from the packaging. Something about that image disgusts me, but instead of tossing it aside, I wrap it around my waist, pulling tighter than usual to smooth the imperfections. Loop once, loop twice and yank hard. I stare down at the large knot. Sad yes, but something else. Not empty. That’s it. Not full either, but not empty. My gaze wanders to the right, toward my former office that’s now a studio. Jocelyn’s easel and paint in one corner. Kristin’s table and shelves of books in another. My own desk and supplies.

  My feet move before my brain. Even my hands know what I need on instinct and grab my sketch pad. The rest of my body catches up, and I lower myself into the chair.

  Color. I need color. I need to see evidence of my own beauty and the person I am even without Jace. I need to see what he sees.

  A spark ignites somewhere deep in the void, filling it with a radiance that burns through my fingers, seeking release.

  And this time, I let go.

  “These are incredible,” Kristin says. “You did them last night?”

  I nod and hand her a mug of tea. We study the two images spread out on my desk. Two martial artists—one male, one female—are intertwined in a grappling position that’s as much of an embrace. Are they fighting or making love to each other? The determined pleasure on their faces makes it impossible to tell. Every angle of their bodies connects in fluid harmony. This pair will never have a winner or a loser because this pair will never give up. They love the fight too much, the thrill of pursuit.

  “Are you going to sell them on the site?”

  I glance up, awakened from my daze. “These? No. One is mine.”

  “And the other?”

  “For a friend.”

  Chapter 0 – 23 = -23

  Eight weeks after the cruise, I visit my mother in Florida. Of course she has plenty to say about my new look and everything else I have going on—and not going on—in my life, but I guess she’s not so bad when she has her own friends and activities to keep her busy. At the very least, her critiques don’t bother me anymore. If anything, I feel sorry for her that at sixty-six she still hasn’t found her color and gets her worth from trying to steal others’.

  My trip to Florida also gives me my answer about Spence.

  We’d exchanged a few messages and phone
calls since the week of romance, but when I traveled down to see my mother and realized I had no interest in letting him know I’d be a half hour away, I knew. I liked Spence, and that was all. A relationship with him would be settling, a new prison that would swallow me up and hold me back just so I could check off the box of having a man in my life. We both deserve better than that, so I call him to let him know where I stand and wish him the best. I’ve known powerful love. I know what it’s like to need someone so badly you tackle them in a kids’ bathroom, and since then, I can’t accept anything less.

  I hold on to Jace’s drawing for a while. Tracing the perfect lines with my eyes, remembering how it feels to touch him. To hear his voice and absorb his smile. I imagine him on the mat with Aiden, sparring, teaching, and protecting his brother from the difficult life he himself has had. Finally, two months after the fateful restaurant encounter and sleepless night of art, I gather the strength to send it. Concerned about any backlash, I ship it to CBMA and sign it with “Don’t hold back.” For the next week, I live on pins and needles, anxious every time my phone buzzes or doorbell chimes. After ten days, I know I won’t be hearing from him. Relief and pain settle in me every time I think about it. Maybe a slight prick of joy at my faith in his appreciation of my gift even if he’s strong enough not to share it with me. Somehow I know he has it and loves it as much as I do. We’re connected again. Forever if he holds onto his half of our imagined bond on the mat.

  And yet, even without him, my life starts to feel full. I review my schedule each morning, wondering how I’ll accomplish everything, but not daring to give a single thing up. I adopt another kitten which Rosie and June don’t approve of at first. It takes some coaxing—and yes, bribery—until the third week when they suddenly decide young playmates have something to offer after all. I have to close my door during conference calls with clients to keep the ruckus of morning cat-games out of my meetings.

  I practice my guitar, train for my next belt, sell my art, and deepen my relationships with the ladies, all while discovering more about who Sienna Porter is and how much she has to offer this world. My Autumn is full of life and color, something I don’t dare to take for granted.

  But life isn’t perfect. No, even rainbows yield to the void. That ache still haunts me when I least expect it and, at times, when I most expect it. I’ll be standing in an elevator when “Interview with the Sun” comes on. An action movie will wow us with its unrealistic cloud of dust. And sometimes, only sometimes now, that space on the other side of my queen bed is so empty and cold that the void spills out in sobs. I see invisible aqua eyes staring back at me. The smile that built the very fabric of what it means to love and be loved. It’s those nights I think I won’t survive. I fear I’ll never be able to let go of him or love another man. Then, somehow, I manage to wake up the next morning with a fresh perspective. I let the sun in, jump in the shower, and stare down at my wrist: Don’t hold back.

  Jace may be gone, but I will always hold onto the gift he gave me. The freedom to know I’ll do more than survive. I’ll fight, and I’ll live in the color.

  Chapter 0 – 24 = -24

  I’ve just hung up with Kristin when a knock rings out at my door. Surprised, I check the time. My last meeting ran late which means I have my guitar lesson in a half hour and I haven’t even had dinner yet. Hopefully it’s just a delivery person waiting for a signature.

  I move to door, adjusting my top, and stop cold.

  No. It’s… a ghost. Two of them.

  My feet move on their own, covering the rest of the distance to the door in a dash I didn’t know they could handle.

  “What are you doing here?” I gasp out.

  Aqua eyes search mine, penetrate deep like only his can do. How can one look erase so much time, so much pain? He tears them away and focuses on the burgeoning preteen to his left.

  “Sorry, we probably should have called first. Can we come in?”

  “Yes, of course.” I step back, heart hammering as that familiar wave of Jace fills the ancient void. I’m dizzy from the rush, burning with old memories.

  “Is the TV still in the living room?” he asks. I nod, and he directs Aiden to go find it.

  “Can I get you anything? Water? Beer? Iced tea?” I add with a cautious smile.

  He returns it. “Iced tea would be great.” He follows me into the kitchen, and he must notice my hands shaking as I reach for a glass. Before I can react he’s behind me, the warmth of his fingers guiding mine. Once the glass is safely on the counter he turns my wrist and brushes his thumb over my tattoo. Every nerve in my body sparks to life in one euphoric explosion.

  “I love your hair,” he says.

  “Thanks.”

  “And your outfit.”

  “Thanks.”

  “That yours?” He nods to my karate bag by the door.

  “Yeah. I’m a red belt now.”

  That grin. It’s so cocky. Yes, Jace Beckett, you changed my life.

  I don’t hide any of that when I look at him and meet his gaze with the confidence he’s always wanted from me.

  “I play guitar now too.”

  “Is that so?”

  “I’m still not great, but—”

  His lips sink onto mine. They’re tentative. Gentle, inviting. It’s not nearly enough, and I breathe him in. Pieces of my soul unlock. I feel the rush of the void spilling out and dissolving into color so bright it may never go dark again.

  He pulls away, his forehead resting on mine. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have done that. You’re probably seeing someone.”

  I’d laugh if I weren’t so saturated with him. I thread my hands in his hair, forcing him back in a kiss that’s open, honest, and desperate. Beautifully pure because we know it’s real. Bought and paid for with a love so deep it survived the void.

  “Never,” I breathe. “It could only ever be you.”

  Seated at the table, iced tea soothing the fires still raging through us, we share a long silence. We take each other in, reading as much as we can about this past year and a half. I note a scar under his left eye. From Louis? Maybe the start of a wrinkle around the other when he smiles. As if he could be even more beautiful to me.

  And now, I’m not afraid to let him look either. I know who he’ll see, and I believe in that woman. She sets goals and achieves them. She dreams and pursues, fights and defends. She’s strong, confident and knows what she wants. She doesn’t hold back. I love her enough to still be okay if she’s not what he wants anymore.

  A grin spreads over his lips as he watches me. “Damn, you’re sexy. You always were, but now?” He shakes his head.

  “You’re not so bad either.”

  He laughs, and traces calloused fingertips over the back of my hand. He doesn’t flinch at the slightly protruding veins or rougher skin over the knuckles.

  “Thanks for the drawing,” he says, resting his gaze on mine.

  “You got it?”

  “It’s amazing.” He looks away again. “Sorry for not acknowledging it. After La Cantina…”

  I squeeze his hand. “I know. I knew it then and I was grateful.”

  The look in his eyes triggers every protective bone in my body. He seems to clear his head. “Anyway, my mom is finally getting help. She’s in a facility now and probably will be for a while.”

  My heart breaks for him as his gaze drops to the table. “Jace, I’m so sorry.”

  He shrugs. “Yeah, she finally snapped. Shattered a glass door and tried to cook with the shards. Ended up almost bleeding to death before I found her.”

  “Oh my goodness!”

  “Yeah.”

  He pulls in a breath. “So of course, Louis hightailed out of crazy-land as fast as his lawyer could buy the ticket for him.”

  I shake my head. “Wow. How’s Aiden handling it?”

  “He’s okay. I’ve been doing my best to shield him from the worst of it. He’s known mom was sick for a long time. I think he’s relieved she’s finally in a safe p
lace, and we visit as often as we can.”

  I trap his hand against mine, squeeze until he looks at me. “And how are you handling everything?”

  “Honestly? I’m fucking great,” he says through a dry laugh. “Makes me sound like an ass, I know, but I feel free for the first time since my father passed.”

  “You don’t sound like an ass. You couldn’t be one if you tried.”

  He sends me a smile. “Anyway, I just wanted to stop in and give you the update. I have full custody of Aiden now, and we’re in the process of looking for a permanent place.”

  My pulse picks up. “Where are you staying?”

  “In a hotel. Aiden still has school, so I don’t want to take him too far away.”

  “What type of place are you looking for?”

  “I don’t know. We don’t need much. I got a job with another construction company and I’m working part-time at CBMA.”

  I swallow. Confidence. You know what you want.

  Don’t hold back.

  “You could live here,” I say.

  His eyes change, lift into that ocean breeze that takes my breath away. “Are you serious?”

  “One hundred percent.”

  “I didn’t come here for that. I don’t want you to think—”

  “I know. I want you here.”

  “But it seems like you have so much going for you. You’d really want to give up your freedom?”

  I take his hands. Hold firm until he believes I will never let go. “Jace Beckett, you’re the reason I’m free.”

  He draws in a breath, speechless. My warrior says nothing as he brings my hands to his lips and closes his eyes. “You’re amazing,” he says finally. Then more firmly. “I accept on one condition.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We pick up where we left off and make this house our home.”

  My tears form a crystal halo around him as he grins at my reaction.

  “So that’s a yes?” he asks.

  I jump up, and he laughs as he catches me against him. “Of course it’s a yes!” I kiss him. Again. And again. And another time for good measure so he understands how empty this house is without him. “Well…”