Starlee's Heart (The Wayward Sons 1)

The metal can creaks beneath me, the surface feeling a little weak under my full weight. Jake looks down at me, his lips forming the whisper of a smile, but he doesn’t break the silence. I appreciate this and the knot of apprehension vanishes as I see the first streaks of orange spread across the sky.

We spend the whole sunrise like this, quietly watching the distance, and when it’s over Jake doesn’t look my way, he just leans against the house and opens his book.

I hop down and head back into the house, feeling content with the start of the day.

My contentment is short-lived as I’m met with the disappointing fact we’re out of bagels.

“Add it to the list,” Leelee says from her stool. She’s been fighting with her laptop for days now. Something with her booking system isn’t working. “And go down to the Wayward Sun for me. Sam’s Special; cream, two sugars. I’d get it myself but I’m waiting on my computer guy to show up to fix this.”

I don’t move right away when she asks, frozen in my spot with the idea of going down there. Sierra is nice and all, but Dexter…I’d hoped not to come face-to-face with him any time soon, if ever.

Leelee glances up at me. “Something wrong?”

There’s no way I can verbalize my apprehension. I know it’s irrational. “Sure, I’ll be right back. Want anything else? Pastry? Muffin?”

“No thanks, sweetie,” she replies, followed by a string of expletives. She looks up from the computer, eyes wide. “Sorry.”

“No problem. Technology makes me curse, too.”

I leave her stabbing at buttons on the keyboard and walk down the sidewalk. I haven’t been this way since the other morning and I keep my eyes averted from the spot where the fight occurred. Instead I focus on the house ahead, eyeing the tall, rusted, old vacancy sign. I wonder if Sierra had any idea she’d be housing a bunch of boys when she bought it. Every building in Lee Vines seems to have more than one function. Lodge, restaurant, shop, housing. I pass a handful of customers on the outdoor seating in the front yard and climb the steps. The music that greets me today is Led Zeppelin, one of my mother’s favorites, and I take a deep breath, one that’s intended to steel my nerves. Instead, I get the strong whiff of something sugary and amazing and my mouth waters.

The line is extra-long, and I take a minute to look at the décor—the song on the wall, the black car painting, and remember what Katie said about Sierra’s obsession with the TV show Supernatural. I have vague recollections of conversations at the middle school lunch table about brothers named Sam and Dean, and the specials on the board make a lot more sense. Even with the crowd it doesn’t take long for the line to progress, and Sierra smiles when she sees me.

“How are you feeling today?”

“Better, thanks.” I glance into the kitchen, looking for one of the boys, but only hear the clang of pots and smell butter and pastry. A small

pebble of disappointment settles in my gut. “What are you baking? It smells awesome.”

“It’s pie day.” She nods toward a row of freshly baked pies on a shelf behind her. They’re labeled with their flavor; apple, cherry, and a strawberry-raspberry combination. “The second and fourth Tuesday of the month is pie day."

“Oh, okay.”

“Would you like a piece? To go with your coffee?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll try the combination.”

She smiles and grabs me a piece, leveling it into a to-go container. “That’s a new one Dexter’s been working on. I think you’ll like it.”

“Dexter bakes?” I blurt out in surprise.

She laughs, handing over my coffee. “When he’s not punching stuff, yes. He’s pretty good at it.”

She shifts her attention to the customer behind me and before I can react, I’m back out on the curb, walking to the registration office. I push open the door with my hip and say, “Did you know that kid, the psycho from the fight, bakes pies?”

I hear a snort, followed by cackling laughter. I turn and see two boys sitting in the office—one behind Leelee’s computer. The other is sprawled across the couch, feet tapping together.

Crap.

“She called Dexter a psycho,” the one at the computer says. His eyes dart quickly at Leelee. “I like her.”

“Starlee, I’d like to introduce you to our computer specialist, Charlie.” The kid next to her smiles and waves. “That’s his brother, George.”

George gives me a quick head nod.

“Uh, sorry about the psycho comment,” I say, sliding Leelee her coffee.

“No way, you nailed it,” Charlie says. “He is a psycho.”