"He's not my brother." I tossed the truth out there and let it hang in the air."What do you mean?" A horn honked behind us when the traffic started to creep at a snail's pace. It didn't occur to me that we hadn't moved the entire time we talked. This would end up being a five-hour trip at this rate. "Just what I said. He's not my brother." I saw the confusion, but Bart wouldn't ask. I shook my head and gave in. I'd hopped down this bunny trail. "We were both foster kids. My parents adopted me when I was ten."His focus remained on the stop-and-go traffic in front of him. "What about Jude? They didn't adopt him?""No, but they want to." I just couldn't keep my mouth shut. Here I hadn't even wanted to admit we weren't related, and now I was diving right into the third problem on my list."Isn't he a little old for that? You said he's seventeen, right?"Maybe I could explain Jude's history away without confessing any of my own. "Yeah, but it's more symbolic than necessary
The silence between us was deafening. I'd kill to crank up the stereo and drown it out with an angry playlist that would change my mood and help me work through the nagging in my mind. But this wasn't my car, and Jude wasn't the one driving. I wasn't sure Bart would appreciate me synching my phone to his stereo so I didn't have to talk to him.When he'd said it was okay, he'd meant it. Now, he didn't say anything further. But I just couldn't leave it alone. Maybe I wanted to tell someone so I could let my feelings go. This could be my opportunity to do just that-all I had to do was open my mouth and speak. "Judgment-free?"Bart came to another stop-approximately seven feet from the last one we'd made-and turned in my direction. With a look I'd only seen from one other person, his eyes spoke to me in quiet contemplation. "Always. You never have to ask." I pulled my hair down and combed through it with my fingers before I wound it back into a knot on top of my head. It was a ne
A week later, Portia still avoided me and kept her text messages short. I tried to act as though nothing had happened, yet it seemed that tiny kiss sent her far away. The closeness we'd always shared now strained under the weight of my actions, and I didn't know how to fix it. Other than Portia, I had a total of two friends. Ethan and Carson. The three of us had grown up together. We'd gone to the same elementary school and middle school, and with only one high school in our small town, we landed there as classmates, as well. They hadn't met Portia until the start of our freshman year. Even though they knew of her, and heard me talk about her, their paths didn't cross since I didn't see them when I was at the Shaws' house. Ethan was insanely intelligent even though common sense wasn't his strong suit. Carson was bright and street smart. Though we looked nothing alike, we were all similar in that we'd been outcasts early on and remained that way. Our friendships were forged by that a
Since I'd never been drunk, and this was my first experience being high, I didn't quite grasp that reaching out to Portia in my current state wasn't the best idea. She'd kept me at arm's length, responding to texts with short answers, but I hadn't been brave enough to call. I had a hard time hearing her voice-it made me miss her-so I'd avoided phone calls since she left. When I got home from Carson's, I snuck into my room and locked the door. Any witness to my behavior might believe I was part of a covert operation...or possibly breaking and entering. I hated to think just how sketchy I appeared from an outsider's perspective. I grabbed my cell from my backpack and searched for a place to hide. Ernie was at work, and Hensley's car wasn't here when I'd shown up, so I wasn't sure who I was hiding from; it just made sense. The closet proved to be my best choice for full coverage. I didn't bother with the light and closed myself in. The glow of the screen illuminated the small space eno
It had taken me all of three weeks to break whatever agreement I'd made with Portia not to smoke pot again. The truth was, I thought all her vibrato was overkill. It came from a place of concern, but if marijuana was legal in a handful of states and decriminalized in several more, it couldn't be the death sentence Portia made it out to be. Cancer patients had used it for years to fight nausea and pain. And I was proof it warded off mental anguish, as well.My grades hadn't suffered, Ernie and Hensley were none the wiser, and it hadn't affected my ability to take care of my responsibilities. In fact, the more I smoked, the happier my foster parents believed me to be. I'd simply made a mental note not to call Portia after school, and since we texted most of the time, it didn't matter, anyhow.Portia: I'm coming home this weekend.Me: Are you actually staying the whole weekend or is it a quick trip?Portia: Depends. Can you keep your hands to yourself?Me: Do I have to?This w
Jude's easy acceptance of my relationship status stung. I didn't know what I had expected, some sort of fight, hesitation, anything to indicate his kiss had meant something. Jude wasn't Chet, but I had a hard time differentiating between the two when it seemed a cheap feel was all either wanted. Unfortunately, I couldn't discuss Jude with anyone, and Chet was just an ass. I could talk until I was blue in the face about the lacrosse player the girls on campus lusted after, and it wouldn't change anything about him. Sitting cross-legged on my bed, I held the phone in my hand and wondered when the shift had taken place with Jude. I'd always believed he cared about me, and I still wanted to. I just couldn't reconcile his ability to change gears and hand me off to another guy with so little fight-not that I'd given him an opening to do anything different. I flung myself back onto my pillows and let out a loud grunt. The door swung open during my anxious release, but I didn't bother to gl
"Hey," I greeted Bart.He popped a quick kiss on my lips that felt warm and good. Although I had to admit, it wasn't electric-but maybe rocking chairs and growing old wasn't about explosive moments, and instead, relied on deep-seated friendship and mutual attraction."Hey, yourself. You want to grab some dinner? I'm going to meet Jet and Todd in the cafeteria." He leaned against the doorframe.My shoulders relaxed, and I fell under the charm that captivated me anytime we were together. When I was physically in his presence, I was content, happy. Unfortunately, when he wasn't within reach, my mind wandered endlessly. For the time being, I decided to focus on the here and now. At eighteen, I didn't have to make any life-altering decisions-he asked about dinner, not marriage. "Actually, I'm starving." I grabbed my keys and then tugged a sweatshirt over my head. "I wanted to talk to you about something, anyhow." I moved past him and locked my room behind me. Bart took my hand a
The festivities were set to begin promptly at seven. Hensley was giddy over Portia bringing home a boy, Ernie appeared defensive, and I just had to sit back to watch how it played out. Neither Hensley nor Ernie mentioned a surprise of any kind; however, Hensley had made a roast, which was my favorite. It also happened to be the best thing she cooked, so I couldn't be certain it was for me and not Portia's "guest.""Do you know anything about this boy, Jude?" My foster mother had to be one of the kindest, most sincere, gentle women I'd ever known-the thought of a twenty-year-old guy being a "boy" might have made her a tad naïve, as well."I met him the day I dropped Portia off." Indifference dripped from my words and expression."And what's he like?" Her eyes were wide with anticipation. She mixed the ingredients for cookies together with her electric mixer, waiting for me to divulge the inside scoop.I hadn't committed him to memory. "Nice, I guess." I'd tried to forget him. If
The ceremony was a blur, at best. The only thing I recalled with any clarity was the boy I'd loved almost my entire life and the way he watched me as I approached. Long gone was the tall, lanky, awkward kid from my youth. In his place was a man with confidence. His smile was perfect, his tux was dapper, and he was virtually edible. Throughout our vows, he never took his eyes off mine, and he hadn't even tried to erase the sheer joy that overtook his features. I'd long since memorized every freckle on his skin, every streak of color in his irises, and every strand of hair on his head, but nothing had prepared me for the expression Jude wore as he committed his life to mine. Once it was over, and I was officially a Thomas, the world came back into focus. After the minister announced us as husband and wife, Jude and I started across the lawn toward the bed and breakfast. It was then that I noticed two empty seats amongst the six in the audience. Hensley had insisted on doing something
Sunday afternoon came faster than either of us wanted. Three days hadn't been nearly enough time to reconnect, and even though I'd made myself sick on lemon pie, saying goodbye proved to be painful. I'd give anything to freeze time in that hotel room with the dessert tin between us, forks in hand, simply enjoying each other's company and catching up as we shoved pie in our mouths.Standing in the airport, I held Portia's face and softly kissed her. "Don't cry, babe. It's only a couple of weeks," I whispered with my forehead pressed against hers.Her eyes were bloodshot, and no amount of consoling would change her anguish. It was inevitable-her displeasure and our circumstances. She had exams to finish, and I had to fulfill a two-week notice at the bookstore. We'd be back together in no time; however, having spent the majority of a year apart, those weeks seemed unjust. A harsh penalty neither of us wanted to serve. "I don't want to go." Portia's whimpered words tore at my heart.
I got dressed and tossed her backpack on my shoulder, and together, we set out. Portia held my hand as we walked down the street, and she carried the pie in the other. We didn't speak, but her thumb caressed the top of my hand and spoke a language all its own. Ever since we were kids, she'd done it to reassure and calm me, and now I was grateful for all those years so I understood its quiet meaning. It wasn't the Ritz Carlton, but I wasn't Donald Trump. The hotel was within walking distance, didn't charge by the hour, and most importantly, didn't ask for ID, so I was sold. Portia set the pie on the nightstand, along with the two forks I'd grabbed on our way out the door. I set down her bag, and it dawned on me that I hadn't brought anything of my own. Not that it mattered. I just wanted time with the girl I'd seen every night in my dreams yet hadn't been able to touch. She sat on the mattress and peered up at me with large, curious eyes. I didn't move, and I wasn't sure how to proc
The knock after eleven at night startled me. I figured Carson or Ethan left their keys at home, locking themselves out. I didn't bother glancing through the peephole. Instead, I kept my nose rooted in the book I was reading, disengaged the deadbolt, and then grabbed the knob. I didn't take notice of who stood on the other side when I flung it open, and I returned to my place on the couch.The weight of the metal latching itself in place resounded through the apartment. After sitting down, I realized neither of them had come inside. Irritated by the disruption-and ready to fire off a smart-ass comment about one of them needing an escort or an invitation-I ripped back the door.And every thought fled my mind. If I'd been asleep, then I would have believed I was dreaming. As it stood, the vision before me was as real as the book I'd thrown on the sofa. My Adam's apple bobbed in painful exaggeration as I swallowed back my surprise. There. Within arm's reach. Stood Portia Sh
June was too far away. There was no way I was willing to wait for Jude Thomas to show up on my parents' porch and see him again for the first time with an audience. It just wasn't going to happen. Consequences be damned. Without their knowledge, I booked a flight using their credit card and found a way home. "Hey, sweetheart. What are you doing here?" My mom stuck her head out and looked around. "And why are you ringing the bell?" I didn't bother with any pleasantries. "I didn't want to alarm you by coming home during the week unexpectedly." I pushed by her, and she shut the door behind me. The kitchen was the place we did our best talking, and that's where I headed without further fanfare. "Where's Dad?"Her tense expression and creased forehead articulated her confusion and concern, although she didn't question me anymore. "Ernie?" She dashed to the bottom of the stairs, leaving me on the bar stool. "Ernie, can you come down here?"The heavy clump of his feet on the steps s
There was a huge tree just behind campus that typically went unoccupied and far enough away from the bustle of the crowd that I could escape. I didn't have a clue what I was getting myself into, and I didn't want to be exposed to onlookers or passersby. I trotted across campus, through the quad, and past the bookstore. When people attempted to stop me to talk, I waved and said hello, but I kept the course to my destination. As I'd hoped, there was no one around. I unzipped my backpack and took out the blanket I'd packed, careful not to accidentally toss the journal on the ground. There wasn't anything ornate or special about the cover itself, although I was certain it had been expensive. The leather was soft like suede yet worn like a jacket. While I assumed it was new, it appeared aged. The words on the pages screamed at me to read them, but even if Jude hadn't written what was inside, I'd still covet the book for its beauty.Once I settled onto the blanket, I grabbed the noteboo
Jet flew into our dorm room with her usual dramatic flair. "Mail call." Her lyrical voice tumbled into the room, and she followed. It was clear she didn't plan to stay when she left the door open, tossed a few envelopes on her desk, and held a package in my direction.I sat up and swung my legs over the edge of my bed. "What's that?"I never got mail. Everything I received went to my parents' house, and I didn't get care boxes because I went home often enough for Hensley to load me up with baked goods to tide me over for weeks.Jet snatched the thick packet back and held it against her chest like a treasure. "It's from California," she teased and then wisely handed it over.An uneasy feeling landed squarely in the pit of my stomach. Butterflies didn't flutter; vultures swarmed. I'd no sooner taken the parcel than the greedy bastards started pecking away at my insides-starting with my heart.My roomie's expression softened, and the emotion she held for me was written all over
Spending Thanksgiving alone hadn't been all that bad. Christmas was torture. The Shaws sent me a box of presents, and I opened them by myself on the morning of the twenty-fifth. Somehow, they'd managed to package the scent of their home and mail it to California. As soon as I had unfolded the cardboard, the familiar smell rolled out in waves. It was the first time I'd missed home since I'd left. I'd longed for Portia, but I'd talked to Ernie and Hensley enough that their absence didn't seem any different than it had when I lived with my mom. There were times I'd go long stretches without seeing them, although not often.I hadn't been able to unwrap a single package for nearly an hour. And when I finally regained my composure, every piece of paper I tore, tape I removed, and ribbon I untied, took me further into longing. Even though I wasn't sure I was ready to go back just yet, that box convinced me that there was nothing I wanted more. With the last gift opened, I stared at the bott
"What the hell are you doing?" I snatched my journal from the hands of a nosy co-worker.She shrugged and contorted her face into an expression of equal indifference. "Just wondering what you spend so much time working on."I tucked the notebook into my backpack and slammed the locker. When I turned around, Lacy wore the same unbothered look. "So, you went through my locker, dug it out, and just thought you'd have a look around my private thoughts?"Lacy pulled out a chair from the table and placed herself in it with more fanfare than called for. "We work in a bookstore. Do you know how many people here are writing the next great American novel?" She paused, waiting for my answer. When she didn't get one, she popped a grape into her mouth and continued. "All of them. Including the ones who run the place." "And how does that justify breaking and entering?" I didn't have a clue what she'd read, or how deep into my thoughts she had been able to dig. My heart lay fully exposed on