Miranda POV I’m happy to report I was able to make it through Thanksgiving without being further traumatized by scarecrows or anything with the words pumpkin-spiced attached. Thanksgiving turned out to be a nice lunch with my mom, step-dad, and brother. It was practically painless and really, who can complain when my mother’s blueberry pie is involved. I just got off work and ran to the grocery store and of course I am assaulted by the holiday regalia the second I walk through the sliding doors. I maneuver as fast as I can around a gray haired man wearing scraggly jeans, ringing a bell over his empty money bucket for a corporation that claims to be religious and non-profit, but I know better. They make the public believe they use the donated money to help poor children and recovering alcoholics when what they really use it for is to pay their executives fat Christmas bonuses. Shame on them pretending to be santa. ‘They should rename their whole corporation Satan's-Army’ I think
Miranda POV Its true, I do feel comfortable writing to Joel; more so than I have ever felt with anyone else in person or via mail or rather email since I haven't actually written a hand letter since I was in second grade and Mrs. Sendrick wanted us to learn about the history of the United States Postal Service. I should be thankful to her now that I have the skills to properly write and letter and address an envelope, but I can't forget how she mocked me, calling me “poor baby Miranda who lost her new crayons.” Those crayons were the one thing I wanted for Christmas back then and she laughed when they went missing. I’m pretty sure mean Bobby White stole them as he had the whole sixty-four color pack mysteriously show up in his desk the next day and I seriously doubt that his parents bought him those crayons when he never even had a lunch. Even after he stole my crayons and called me “poor baby Miranda” for the entire year, I still snuck granola bars into his desk when he wasn't loo
Joel POV We stopped and I looked up at the house from the front seat of the car. It was a traditional two-story colonial style home with a well manicured yard. I remember it was yellow because I wondered who on earth would purposely choose to paint their house yellow. My heart started to beat faster as we quietly opened the car door and stepped into the sidewalk. It's almost as if I could feel that something terrible was about to happen, yet I was powerless in stopping it. "His house is the second one up there." she said as she pointed to the house on the right. "What we are going to do is go up there and I will ring the doorbell. You stand off to the side where the bushes are so he can't see you. When he opens the door, I will ask if I can come in so we can talk. As I step in, I will turn him around, his back facing the open door and give him a hug. That is when you will come up behind him with the gun." The closer we got to his house, the more my heart raced and I started
Joel POV It's two o’clock am and I am still tossing and turning. It isn't anything that is really bothering me, it is just sometimes my mind will not silence itself. Am thinking of Miranda a bit too. Honestly, I am simply intrigued at her openness and intelligence. I sent her letter off about a week ago and she has yet to respond. I wonder how long it takes for mail to get to Alaska. I am a little worried that maybe she will lose interest in writing when truthfully, it's so nice to have someone to talk to besides my mom and the fools in here. I don't know what I’m even saying. I know thinking about whether or not she wants to continue as my penpal is not going to change the outcome but it still isn't hard to think about either, especially at two in the morning when my mind won't stop racing. I smile, remembering things she talked about in her last letter. I could imagine her blushing at what she felt was an over share. Yet she doesn't realize, in here there are no real boundar
Miranda POV Damn! Joels’s hot! Not cute or a little good-looking either. I'm talking straight up, drop my panties on a first date smoking hot. I did not expect that. I’m not exactly sure what I expected but tall, dark and handsome was definitely not it. He is tall with a scattering of tattoos from what I can see and his form is filled with thick muscles, no doubt a result from the prison workouts that are displayed in just about every media portrayal of prison inmates. It's not just his body; his facial features are strong with a chiseled jawline and deep mahogany eyes that stare through the internet. I can only imagine how much more handsome he appears in person rather than on a computer screen. I browse around the internet a while longer, looking for more pictures. After I finish writing the letter, I am able to complete my work and the day goes by rather quickly although I am often distracted by a desire to pull up his pictures again and have another peek. I tell myself it
Joel POV I tapped the bottom of the bunk and handed Miranda’s pic reluctantly up to Shotgun. I've shared so much with him over the years and this should be no exception. ‘I can give him a moment to live vicariously through me,’ I snickered to myself; but for that first moment, I felt selfish and greedy. I didn't want to share this hottie with Shotgun. I know it sounds crazy, but I didn't want to share her with anyone. It fucked with my head because Shotgun is like a brother to me, but for once, I just wanted something for myself."Sorry man. Didn't mean to come off like that." I told him."It's all good brother," Shotgun responded. "I kinda get it and after all she wrote you man, not us.""She is pretty, man." Shotgun said as he handed back the pic and crawled off of the bed. "You’re fucked brother. She is smart and pretty.""Yeah." Joel said, just looking at the picture in his hand and letting his thoughts drift to some of the things she said in the letter.The doors opened and Sh
Miranda POV The holidays go off without a hitch and I can finally settle back into a somewhat normal routine minus the bullshit that was previously keeping me on the edge of social meltdown. There is nothing worse for an introvert than the holiday season, filled with its social gatherings and work parties. It’s even worse when your brother is a self proclaimed rockstar and your best friend is the epitome of a slutty prom queen. Oh, to be popular and confident. I have continued to keep in touch with my fine ass prison boyfriend as I like to call him. Although I know that nothing will probably ever come of us long term, it is a fun distraction and I find myself often thinking about what-ifs. Not to mention, it will be fun to visit him when I am on the east coast in a couple days since our interactions have become more flirty after the last several weeks. Recently we have started talking via the email program they have available through the prison system. Apparently, the inmates no
Joel POV I stared at the email. They had moved the date up on Miranda's conference and she was going to be here in two days. I felt his heart pounding in his chest, from excitement and nervousness. Showing any emotion here was a weakness, especially emotions attached to a woman, so I tried not to let it show in my face or body language. I have recently started communicating with Miranda via emails, which is so much faster than that of the postal service. Although, I do like getting handwritten letters as I can read them at any time and not just when I am at the computer. They had recently brought the email function to the institutions, expediting communication but there was a catch. The emails do not work exactly like regular ones on the outside. Our emails go through like a filter. If certain trigger words or phrases are used, then the email gets held up and reviewed versus perused. Also, if any pictures are attached, then the email is held up so the picture can be reviewed for
Joel POV Sometimes people get second chances. It is my experience that it is rare and doesn't at all follow the cliches we always hear about getting a do-over. ‘As long as you have breath in your body, you still have time for another chance..’ ‘Every moment of your life is a second chance…’ These are absolutely not true. Second chances take a lot more than just being able to suck in air. They take time and commitment to change. They take willpower and gratitude at the highest level. Often, people are given a lot more than just second chances, they are given chance, after chance, after chance. Then, after repeated forgiveness from others, they feel entitled and rarely change, leaving their people frustrated and regretful. Not me! I was given an opportunity for a life, for love and I knew exactly what was offered. That is why I grabbed it with both hands and refused to let go. I refused to let her go. Some may even say I have become dependent upon Miranda for my happiness. To
Joel POV It has been a busy week. Since I arrived on short notice, Miranda was unable to get time off work because they are finishing up her current project apparently with some sort of rush due to funding. I know she will do great, and she can easily get a new job with how smart she is, but she is nervous, nonetheless. As for me, I didn't want to get stuck sitting in front of the television waiting for her to get home every day so I called up Jim’s Construction after learning he was having trouble with current employees calling out. I told him that I was available to help for the week and he took me up on my offer and I've been busy every day. He does mostly small jobs-building sheds and shops, home additions, and even some decks. I wasn't sure Jim would want me to work for him after learning about my past, but he was supportive, mentioning that his brother had spent some time in prison and that everyone deserves a second chance. I also had to make sure I mentioned it to Mr. Bar
Miranda POV I wake up early and dig around in Joel’s suitcase for something comfortable to wear. Settling on one of his oversized Virginia Cavaliers hoodies, I throw on my stretch pants and head down to the lobby. If I’m going to make it through this day, I am definitely going to require high doses of caffeine. Since Joel is here in Alaska and there is no doubt that his place in my life is not faltering, he needs to meet my people-at the very least my mom, my brother, and Amanda. I text Amanda to meet me at my house at one o’clock. That will give us plenty of time to check out, grab some breakfast for Joel, and get back to my house to meet her. Then, I figure I might as well kill two birds with one stone, so I text Mik as well, inviting him over for a late lunch. I know he’ll come if there’s food involved, and I can grab a pack of tacos from the food truck that parks down the road from my house. The hotel’s tea collection is weak, and their coffee is stale, but I guess it will d
Joel POV I wanted to just head straight to the airport and run home but I just couldn't do it so I found myself driving to the hotel I had listed on my travel pass and checking in at the front desk. I felt exhausted, mentally, emotionally, and even physically from I can't even remember how many hours of uncomfortable traveling over the last twenty-four-hour period. I wasn't mad. Well, maybe I was mad at myself for trusting someone again. But not mad at Miranda; I don't know that I'd feel differently if I were in her shoes. “Checking in. I have a reservation. Joel Johnson.,” I say as I approach the front desk of the hotel lobby. I look around and notice the hotel is fairly nice with a definite Alaska feel to it. The furniture is rugged with red plaid accent pillows and the main centerpiece is a giant stuffed grizzly bear. I might be impressed if I wasn't so tired. There’s a kid behind the desk and I’m guessing he can't be over eighteen. “Without looking up from the computer he
Miranda POV Joel was right. I had known about the crimes he committed when I reached out to him, and I had no right to hold them against him now. Furthermore, I had knowingly built a relationship and made a commitment to that relationship knowing all the while I did not have the details of his past. How can I just turn my back on someone who means so much without even getting the whole story? Without fighting for the relationship, I swore meant so much to me. One thing I have always loved about myself was that part that can be nonjudgmental and open to other's experiences. I have always believed that we are each on our own journey and that theirs is not mine to judge. We all have different things to learn in this life and it's not my responsibility to decide what is wrong or right/good or bad. Moreso, it's my job as a fellow human being to support people through their journey, no matter how much I disagree or am confused by their decisions along the way. Now that I know the circ
Joel POV I could barely see straight, and my hands started shaking as I formed them into fists. I hadn't been this furious since that day everything had happened. "I shouldn't have to explain myself to you or anyone else! Especially not your nosy bitch friend,” I say, raising my voice. “It is supposed to be you and me against the world. That's what you fucking told me, and I guess I was stupid enough to believe you.” Miranda backed away from me and I could see a glimmer of fear in her eyes, and I immediately regretted my initial reaction. I never wanted her to be scared of me. I had never forgiven myself for what had happened. So, how could I ever expect her to understand or forgive me when I can't even forgive myself? I tried to bring it up to her a few times, but when I did, I only felt shame and guilt. Now here I was, scaring her and for what? Because her nosy best friend had filled her head with bullshit, and she read some damned articles that were only half truths? I rememb
Miranda POV I sit up in my bed and am thankful that it's the weekend. It's been a long, hard week at work, and I can use both the physical and mental rest. I’m even more thankful that I am finally getting through each day without constant reminders of Joel and even though I think I am a long way from being over him, I am able to function a lot better than I was a few weeks ago. I hear a knock on the front door, Beebs barks, and I move into the living room, curious to see who could be at my house this early on a Saturday. Thinking it’s probably the local neighborhood kids trying to earn some extra money cleaning up yards, I throw on some shorts under my long tee shirt just to make sure they don’t get an eye full. However, when I open the door, I am not met by the local preteens. Instead, the very reason for my recent misery stands before me. I stare, shocked, until I can finally form words, “Joel, what are you doing here?” I should probably be scared. I mean what kind of psych
Joel POV I sat in my truck breathing deeply. It was about ten minutes before my appointment and I was collecting my thoughts. I knew without a doubt that this is what I wanted but it could very well backfire. I had requested this appointment to request an out of state pass, but I knew even without it, one way or another, I would be going to talk to Miranda. Yeah, I know it’s risky and such behavior may get me locked up again, but I can't say I care much anymore. I’ve tried to call a few times but she has not accepted my calls or returned my texts. I need to talk to her, to apologize and if she doesn't forgive me then I will move on. I at least deserve a chance to say my piece. I pulled down the sun visor and looked at the backside, where I kept the picture of Miranda clipped. I never told her that I kept her with me and I wasn't sure why. Maybe because It was cheesy but more likely because it was difficult for me to open up, to care for someone and allow them to care for me. I
Miranda POV Amanda pulled her phone out and pulled up the article she had saved in her search history. I stared in shock as I read the newspaper headline “Boyfriend of Alecia Pike sentenced 22-years for Manslaughter.” Wait. What am I looking at? I’m confused at first but it becomes clearer as I continue to read, “Joel Johnson, boyfriend of slain woman received a sentence of twenty-two years in the murder of Alecia Pike in the First Judicial District Court of Virginia today after a week-long sentencing hearing. The extended hearing allowed the many victims and families of the victims in this case to testify for the court’s consideration. It was reported that the second victim, a minor in the case, who suffered a first-degree assault at the hands of the assailant was also present in the court….” I could not physically rad any longer as I felt bile begin to creep into my airway. “Where did you get this?” I asked Amanda, still hoping it was some sort of mistake. Or a joke, this had to