by Mariah Dietz
“Leela, I…”
I shake my head, stopping his words. “We’ll do this. Together. You and me.”
“Leela, I love you.” He shakes his head, and my heart accelerates, pounding so hard and fast it feels like it’s fracturing my ribs. “I know this is the worst time and place to tell you this, but I do. I love you. You said there were a thousand reasons we shouldn’t be together, but I’m confident I could list far more than a thousand for why we belong together—why I love you.”
I kiss him. I kiss him hard and sweet and long, and when he pulls back, the sadness in his eyes is gone. “I love you, too, Wes.”
THE END
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If you loved Ace and Max and the rest of the group, you can see more of their story and see even more of Wes with Becoming His! The first chapter is continued below.
Prologue
I shove another box into my backseat, using more force than necessary as I hear Steven approaching, whistling some happy show tune. His dress shoes slap against the pavement of my parents’ driveway as he ascends toward the house. I don’t need to look up to confirm that it’s him. The whistling is a dead giveaway.
I’ve never put much thought into whether or not I care for the sound of whistling. However, I now know I loathe it. At least these days I do. Which causes me to briefly ponder if it has always grated on my nerves or if it’s just one more thing life is ruining for me.
Glancing over the hood of my car I catch sight of him, and my eyes turn icy, glaring at his short, stocky stature. He doesn’t ever seem to mind my moody attitude or death glares, and today is no different. He smiles and gives me a slight head nod, causing a brief break in his stupid song that he continues to whistle as he makes his way past me, infuriating me all the more. I’m sure he’s relieved to see me going, and the revelation almost makes me want to defiantly rip the same box I’ve just loaded back out and stick around—almost.
My jaw clenches as the sudden impulse to hit Steven courses through every cell of my body. I want him to feel just a small taste of the pain that I’m feeling, like life has shredded every single one of his nerve endings, exposing them to every callous element that life can offer, reminding him that the pain can indeed always get worse.
The need overwhelms me and I have to consciously fight to keep myself from going after him. I’ve never been prone to acts of violence. In fact, I’m opposed to them, finding them both barbaric and unnecessary, yet every muscle in my body strains with the desire for my fist to connect with the cocky smirk he wears like an old suit that doesn’t fit quite right. I want him to go away and leave my family alone. He doesn’t belong here. He isn’t one of us. Yet he struts around like he’s been here every day of the last twenty years of my life.
Surely Kendall and Abby understand this hatred I feel, maybe even Kyle does. They know me better than most. Or at least they used to.
No one seems to understand me these days though. They don’t understand I just need some space. I need to get out of here.
I don’t belong here.
Not anymore.
Chapter 1
Thump, thump. Thump, thump. My quiet strides are the only sounds this morning aside from the music pouring softly through my earbuds. Along with the exertion of my muscles, it makes me feel nearly euphoric. Some people meditate to find peace and tranquility, me—I run.
Rounding the corner, I take a deep breath of the already warm Southern California air and focus on a growing shadow. Slowing my pace, I look up and see a guy in his early twenties, standing around six feet, with sandy blond hair sticking out in an organized disarray. His black mesh shorts and bright green cut-off T-shirt reveal toned muscles. He’s looking at me and talking, but my music’s too loud to make out his words.
I’m careful to maintain a ten-foot gap between us before I pull an earbud free and roll it between my fingers. “Sorry?” I ask, noticing his raised brows over eyes which are the very definition of hazel with dark blue edges that lighten to green and darken to a soft amber.
His grin spreads into a smile. “I said you must be Ace.”
I look him over again. I was away all of last year for college, but returned home nearly every weekend.
Nothing about him is familiar.
“Must be?” I wish I’d brought my family’s Newfoundland, Zeus, with me—not that he’d do anything more than possibly lick this guy to death. Still, his one hundred and seventy-five pounds usually serves as a deterrent to most.
His smile grows wider, pronouncing a small, jagged scar running from the edge of his bottom lip and stopping midway to his chin.
He doesn’t exactly scream axe murderer, but I’m guessing most don’t.
He takes a step closer and I quickly look around the empty park.
“Sorry, my name’s Jameson. Jameson West…” he says, sensing my unease. “Sharon told me about you girls. You’re a Bosse, right? One of the five sisters?” Rounded hazel eyes await my confirmation.
I stare at him, waiting for what always comes when it’s brought up that I’m one of five—the same trademark comments and questions. Had they been trying for a son? No. Do you girls fight all the time? Not really. Do you all look alike? We don’t, other than having our mother’s blonde hair and being built fairly similarly.
The questions don’t come. Instead, awkwardness taints the air between us as I wonder how he knows Sharon.
“She said you’re all blonde,” he adds, breaking the silence and lifting a hand to his own hair, as if translating the words for me. “That’s what gave you away.”
Sharon’s our next door neighbor and my mom’s best friend. She and her three sons have lived beside us for a decade. She also works at Saint Andrews Hospital with my father where they’re both thoracic surgeons. Sharon specializes with lungs, and my father, the heart. She and my dad have shared a close professional relationship for years, but my mom and Sharon didn’t become friends until the last few years when her youngest son, Max, moved away.
They started a book club and began playing Bunco with a group of women, which evolved into spending most of their free time together with a bottle of wine … or two, accompanied by lots of giggling and gossiping. The reality that we never really outgrow this behavior both relieves and concerns me greatly.
Raising my eyebrows, questions of what Sharon’s told him run through my mind. “At least half of Southern California is blonde.”
His smile turns playful. “Mr. Janes also mentioned you’d be down here when I passed his house on my way down. Told me I should watch out for you because it’s not safe to be running alone.” He turns his head, making a point of looking around the empty field.
Does he know all my neighbors?
“I’m Max’s friend.” Jameson takes another step, bridging what’s becoming a very small gap between us, and extends his hand.
“Nice to meet you,” I say, noting how rough and callused his palm is. “Are you visiting Sharon alone?”
His eyes widen. “No,” he answers automatically. His ivory cheeks color with a faint blush as he shakes his head, keeping his smile in place. “No. I transferred down here with Max from the University of Alaska. We’re here for the summer until school starts.”
This surprises me. True, it’s my first full day back home after visiting my grandparents with my dad and sister, Kendall, in France for the past two weeks, but I’m shocked my mom didn’t mention Max returning. It isn’t like her at all.
“I met your mom yesterday. She mentioned you and your sister … Kylie?” His forehead creases, lacking confidence.
“Kendall.”
Jameson’s lips quirk in an apologetic grin as he nods. “Kendall. That’s right. She said you two would be able to show us around since so much has changed in the past couple of years.” The brightness of his eyes tells me he’s teasing, bu
t I’m certain his words hold truth. My mother is a southern debutante, born and raised in the great state of Texas—a nationality in of itself in her book. Being hospitable and polite is ingrained so deeply in her, she isn’t always aware of boundaries.
“Yeah, absolutely. We’d be happy to help in any way we can.” It’s also ingrained in us girls.
Thanks, Mom.
He motions to the track with a nod. “Mind if I run with you?”
“Sure,” I reply on instinct, even though I do mind. Running is something I prefer to do alone or with Zeus.
My music remains off as we set off at a slow jog. After a few laps, our pace increases. Surprisingly, measuring my strides against his longer ones is invigorating and a welcomed challenge.
We run until we’re winded, then slow to a jog and make our way up to my neighborhood.
Stopping in front of my house brings the return of awkwardness as he stands beside me, his destination next door. “I’ll see you around,” I huff.
Jameson smiles gently, like he knows I’m uncomfortable. “Yeah. I’ll see you soon, Ace.”
Upstairs, the sun seeps through my shades, revealing Kendall sprawled across my bed, fast asleep. Even at twenty-one she has a strong aversion to being alone for any length of time. A side effect of growing up in a large family.
After showering and pulling on clean clothes, I climb in beside Kendall and quickly find sleep.
The familiar murmur of voices floating up the stairs wakes me. Kendall’s disappeared and the sun casts long shadows across my room, mocking me for sleeping most of the day away.
It’s Sunday, which means it’s family night at my parents’ house—a weekly tradition we rarely miss.
“Oh, you guys brought macarons home,” my sister, Savannah, sighs.
“Those are the chocolate hazelnut ones.” I point to the back corner of the box, indicating her favorites.
“Oh, Ace!” Savannah’s bright blue eyes shine with tears as she stands and wraps me in a tight hug. Pregnancy hormones have increased my second to oldest sister’s constant need for affection. “I’m so bummed I didn’t get to go with you guys! I want to hear all about it!” She pulls back and eyes that match our mother’s and sisters’ slowly scrutinize my face before lifting to my brown ones, concluding her brief assessment.
Smiling with assurance, I run a hand across her belly.
“Do you think much has changed since last summer?” Her husband, Caulder, asks, walking in step with my other brother-in-law Kyle from the den.
Kyle’s eyes widen as he nearly stumbles to break his stride and separate himself from Caulder, knowing his question won’t be well received.
Savannah focusses on Caulder with in an icy glare. “I still want to hear about it.”
Caulder’s brown eyes turn somber. “I’m sorry, babe. You’re right…” he places a hand on Savannah’s six-month bump, “and in a couple years when baby Alex is big enough, we’ll all go.”
“More like Alexandra,” I tease, selecting a pink macaron from the box.
Caulder shakes his head. “It’s a boy,” he insists. “He likes good music, riding in my truck, and he goes crazy when he hears motorcycles.”
“Uh oh. Alexandra’s already into bad boys. You better be prepared,” I sing, winning a smile from Savannah and a scowl from Caulder.
“Y’all really should just find out, I’m tired of buying yellow,” Mom adds from where she and my dad are preparing dinner.
“I think Ace is right. Baby is definitely a girl,” Savannah says, looking down at her growing stomach in adoration.
I grin, gazing up at Caulder with a gloating expression which he returns with an eye roll.
Caulder’s the newest member of our family. He and Savannah celebrated their second wedding anniversary just last month. He grew up with a sister, however, there are days it’s apparent that having a single sibling in no way prepared him for our large family.
Kendall initially had a difficult time understanding our older sister’s draw to Caulder. Savannah’s always been sweet and soft spoken, with a strong draw to children that led her to teaching kindergarten. Caulder’s very serious—to the point of being almost stiff and awkward at times. However, I’d known from the moment I met Caulder that he and Savannah would be perfect for one another. They’re like yin and yang: Where she sees possibility, he sees risk; where she leans toward new ventures, he gravitates toward familiarity. But neither stifles the other; they balance each other.
“Is Abby coming tonight?” Mom asks.
At the mention of my best friend I turn toward my mom. “Yeah, she leaves Tuesday. So she’s staying the night.”
“We’ve got to get her to call you Ace. I still look around to see who in the hell she’s talking to when I hear her call you Harper,” Kyle says, prodding through the macarons.
“It is my name.”
He looks up from the box with a hint of sadness rounding his eyes. “But you’re Ace.” Prior to college everyone called me by the nickname, but this past year at college when others heard my name listed off attendance sheets, I became Harper.
Kyle’s known me since I was six, long enough to warrant the confusion. We met when my oldest sister, Mindi, had taken me to the park near our house with a couple of her friends as an excuse to watch the high school boys’ football practice. I had quickly grown bored of the mundane task of sitting still and not bothering them, and eventually left in search of something more entertaining. It didn’t take long before I couldn’t see Mindi or the direction from which I’d travelled. I was crying and wandering aimlessly when Kyle found me. He took my hand and we set off to find Mindi with a trail of his bad jokes in our wake.
When we found her, she was so worked up—fearing something had happened to me—she hadn’t even realized I was still gripping Kyle’s hand when she flung her arms around me. However, her stress seemed to dissipate faster than it should’ve once she noticed him. They began dating the following week, and he became a permanent fixture in our house and family albums, becoming like a brother to me and the rest of my sisters, and a son to my parents.
Kyle and I have always had a special bond, sharing a passion for running, soccer, and my family. Where Savannah is sweet, and probably too nice, Mindi has the tendency to be a bit dramatic, rivaling Kendall with being both bossy and loud. In addition, she was born a perfectionist, something I’m intimately familiar with since it’s one of the few traits that I, too, received from our mom.
“Where’s Mindi and the girls?” I ask, noticing Savannah looking precariously close to tears again.
“They’re at a birthday party. What four-year-old has their party at a nail salon?” he grumbles. “I mean, seriously.”
“Mom!” Kendall yells, making both Kyle and I sink back farther into the kitchen. Kendall’s well-known for needing her sleep, and her tone makes it apparent the jetlag is hitting her hard. “Have you seen my jean shorts with the lace pockets?”
“Kyle, the girls are here,” Mom announces, shoving a bag of pink, heart-shaped marshmallows in my hands. “She’s been cravin’ these, and she’s been in sort of a mood lately.” Her blue eyes widen, serving as a warning.
I raise my eyebrows and nod before following Kyle outside, hearing my mom yell a response to Kendall before the door closes behind us.
Mindi’s working to unlatch my three-year-old niece, Jade, from her car seat as we approach, allowing a large gap between us. Unlike Savannah, Mindi hates all physical contact while she’s pregnant.
“You need to stop wiggling! I don’t know why the sky’s blue. It just is.” My oldest sister’s struggling to maintain her patience.
“Hey, Min.” I try my best to sound friendly.
“Auntie Ace!” Jade’s words sound like a song as she’s freed from her car seat.
“Auntie Ace, can I go let Zeus out?” Mindi and Kyle’s oldest daughter, Emily, asks, hopping to a stop in front of me, her bright blue eyes round, shining with excitement.
“Y
eah. He’s in the backyard.”
Both girls race across the lawn, their blonde hair dancing behind them. They shriek and giggle as Kyle chases them to the back gate.
“Are those…” Mindi rips open the bag of marshmallows before I can complete the pass and shoves two in her mouth. Her forehead relaxes, and her eyes close with contentment. “Thank you,” she garbles, covering her full mouth with her fingers.
A loud muffler rips through the air. Mindi and I turn, seeing a shiny black motorcycle pull into the driveway beside ours.
“Who’s that? Is that Hank? Oh my God, I look so fat today! Please don’t let it be Hank.” Mindi’s voice is a plea as she sidesteps so she’s mostly behind me.
“Max! Welcome home, son! It’s good to see you.” My dad calls before the helmet fully reveals Max’s face.
“Hey, Mr. Bosse. It’s good to be home and feel some sun.”
“Dear lord, what do those boys drink? I want some,” Mindi whispers, eating another marshmallow.
Max has been my neighbor since I was nine. He’s only two years older than me—the same age as Kendall—however, he’s never paid attention to any of us. Kendall had made it her personal mission to bait him one summer, spending an exorbitant amount of time and energy on trying to catch his attention. Me, being the youngest, and her partner in crime, had assisted in many of her missions, but he never did more than give us the briefest of acknowledgments. Eventually, she lost interest.
I blame the fact that I paid too much attention to Max over the years, because of my role in playing her wingman, but that’s only a half truth. Something about him has always intrigued me. He always remained slightly distant, looking at everyone with an edge of suspicion.
When Kendall and Max started high school, two summers after her failed attempt to catch his attention, Max began dating every girl in their class. She was bent out of shape for a while then brushed it off, calling him a manwhore, and focused her sights elsewhere, but I continued to watch.
