I guess it isn’t all that different from what I did. Although to be fair, where I’m not particularly close to any of them, I still talk to my mom and siblings every week.
They all love Ellie though, and at the end of the day, that’s all I really care about.
Me: Still waiting.
Keira: Did I mention how bad of an idea I think this is?
Me: Only about a hundred times.
Keira: Well, I’m saying it again. I think this is a huge mistake. What if he tries to pull you back in? What if you see him and all the progress you’ve made is shot? You know his track record. You know he won’t stay clean. What about Ellie?
The mention of my daughter pisses me off. Ellie has nothing to do with this. Jace doesn’t know I have a daughter and I have no intention of telling him. Ellie is my life, my present. Jace is my past. If I have anything to say about it, the two will never intertwine.
Me: We’ve been through this. I can handle this. You have to trust me.
Keira: I do trust you. But I feel like you’re playing with fire.
Me: I have to go. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. Talk later.
I lock my phone, ignoring her reply message as I drop the device back into my purse.
Her fears are not without warrant. And while I know the Jace I left behind doesn’t deserve to have me here, I feel like I owe it to the boy he used to be. The boy I’ve loved since I was ten years old. Because I want him to get clean. I want him to be better. And I know his track record isn’t great, but this is the first time he’s contacted me. Maybe this time is different. Maybe this time he really means it. And isn’t that what I’ve wanted for all these years? To not have to worry about getting that phone call. To not have to attend his funeral and bury the person who once held my future.
“Miss Pierson.” I look up when a dark skinned, middle aged woman enters the room. She’s wearing a muted purple pantsuit, her dark hair tied back from her face.
“Yes,” I croak, my voice suddenly hoarse.
“He’s ready for you.”
Chapter Two
OAKLEY
Nine years ago
* * *
The sky is dark, the moon hidden behind thick clouds blocking out every star from view. I’m lying on my back in the unfinished treehouse in my backyard. The one my father started years ago but never completed in his rush to leave. It has a floor and three walls, with the fourth completely open to the wooded area behind my house, and there is no ceiling. It’s sits about fifteen feet in the air, and instead of a ladder, there are wood planks nailed into the tree for steps.
It’s not the sturdiest thing in the world, but over the years it has become my sanctuary. The place I go when I want to be alone. It’s also where Jace likes to hide out when his dad’s been drinking. Most of the time when I come up here, I do in hopes of finding him here.
He’s been my closest friend since he moved into the house at the end of my street nearly four years ago. And while I love him like he’s family, those feelings have started to take on a new meaning recently.
“Oak.” I prop up on my elbows when I hear Jace’s voice.
I knew he’d come here tonight. As of late, he’s up here more times than he’s not. And as happy as that makes me because I get to spend time with him, I also hate what it means. That his dad is on another tirade.
Preston Matthews is not a good man. I learned that pretty early on. And I hate that Jace has to live with him. It’s no wonder why his mom left or why his brother, Tommy, took off the first chance he got. I just wish they hadn’t left Jace all alone with that monster.
And while my home life isn’t great—my mother treats me and the twins more like nuisances than her children—at least I don’t have to be afraid to go home.
“Hey.” I smile at him when his messy brown mop comes into view.
Jace is changing. When I first met him he was a scrawny thing, but he’s filled out since then and grown several inches. His voice is changing too. I swear it gets deeper every time I hear him talk.
“Hey.” He hoists himself up into the treehouse before crawling onto the blanket I have sprawled out on the floor.
He lays back, tucking his hands underneath his head as he stares up at the sky. The small camping lamp I took from the garage offers just enough light that I can see the bruise forming right below his left eye. I cringe at the sight.
“Everything okay?” I ask, lying back down, my face turned in his direction.
“Yeah.” He blows out a heavy breath. “Dad was in a real mood tonight.”
I want to ask him why he doesn’t report him. Why he continues to let him get away with this. But after the tenth time of suggesting it, and Jace never wavering in his response, I’ve kept such thoughts to myself. He doesn’t want anyone to know and I have to respect his choice to keep this quiet.
People suspect, I’m sure. There’s no way they can’t. There are only so many times a kid can show up at school with a black eye or busted lip before someone realizes that there’s more going on than a teenage boy getting into neighborhood squabbles. And yet, no one says a word.
It’s like an unspoken rule in this town. Everyone minds their own business and believes what they’re told to believe. Other than Tommy, I’m the only one that knows what takes place in the Matthews’ home. I tried telling my mom once, but she told me to stay out of it and refused to discuss it further. If I had any hope that she was going to help, she squashed it instantly.
So it’s just me and Jace. Me and Jace against the world. I wish I could do more. I wish I could protect him. But really, what can I do other than be here for him the only way I know how?
“You wanna talk about it?” I finally offer, my hand settling on top of his. He flinches at the contact and my heart sinks in my chest.
“Not really.” He turns his face toward mine, his blue eyes impossibly dark. “I just want to lay here with you if that’s okay.” He forces a small smile.
“Of course.” I nod, holding his gaze for as long as he’ll let me.
Jace is very good looking. And while I’ve always thought he was cute, now he’s something much more than that. My heart beats faster every time he’s around. My palms sweat and my stomach does this weird fluttering thing that makes me feel like I’m about to take flight.
I don’t have to wonder what it all means. I know what it means.
Eventually, he turns his eyes back up to the sky, but I keep mine locked on the side of his face. Taking in the defined cut of his jaw and the profile of his nose, which has a small lump on the bridge from where his dad broke it last year.
“Jace.” My voice breaks the long silence that has settled between us.
“Yeah?” His head falls back in my direction.
“Tell me it won’t always be like this.”
Even though he’s the one hurting, it’s me who needs the reassurance.
“It won’t always be like this,” he promises, wrapping his hand around mine.
My stomach twists with excitement. It shouldn’t feel this good, doing something as simple as holding hands, but god it does. It feels right in a world where nothing else does.