Starlee's Heart (The Wayward Sons 1)

Jake bristles. “He hurt you?”

“No. Yes. I don’t know. It’s hard to explain what happened from there—I just don’t hav

e a lot of memory of the time, but I know I tried to hurt myself. More than once, which made my mom shift from protective to over-protective. And at the time I was kind of okay with it but then months passed and then years and all along my fears just compounded.”

“What kind of fears?”

I look at him and it’s hard to be afraid of his kind, handsome face, but my heart races anyway. “Of other people and their motives. If I can trust them or feel safe around them.”

“Are you afraid of me?”

“Sometimes.”

He exhales and studies his hands in his lap. “I want to tell you not to be afraid of me or the other guys, but that’s not how trust works. You have to earn it with actions, time and commitment.” He studies me. “There’s something else.”

“What’s that?”

“You’re better at being a friend than you realize, Starlee. You’re a good listener. You’re smart and helpful.” He glances at the sunrise. “I’m glad we met, even if it was over a broken trashcan.”

I tighten my arms around my legs. “Me too.”

We watch the rest of the sunrise in comfortable silence, something I’d never thought I’d have with a boy like Jake Hollingsworth. Again, I figure it’s because there’s nothing between us but maybe friendship, why would a guy like him want anything more from a girl like me?

“Hey,” he says, as we walk back to our houses. “We’re going on a hike today, want to come? It’s sure to be exciting. George will probably fall off a cliff. Dexter will get mad. Charlie will complain about the lack of service.”

“And you?”

He grins. “I’ll get everyone back in one piece.”

I want to say yes. Desperately, but the monkey in my chest tightens its grip. “I’ve got to work for LeeLee today. She has her book club tonight and she’s leaving me in charge.”

“Okay,” he says, his lips pouting in disappointment. “Maybe next time?”

“Maybe.”

Later, out the front office window I see the boys climb in the Jeep and Dexter carry out a cooler. He pushes it in the back and I turn, hearing the door slam. I have an idea.

“I’m going over for a muffin. You want anything?” I ask.

“No, but make sure you come back before three. Remember, I have my book club tonight in June Lake and I need to finish up the book.”

“Why would it take me two hours to get a muffin?”

She glances up. “Oh, well, I thought maybe you were just looking for a reason to hang out with the boys.”

My cheeks heat. Partially because I am looking for a reason to go over there, but not to hang out with the boys. Is that what she thinks? “I think they left a while ago. I saw them drive off when I went to get the mail.”

“Ah, okay. Well, go get your muffin. I’ve got six chapters to read before Phyllis picks me up.”

I almost reconsider but the letter is burning a hole in the back of my pocket. If I don’t do it now I probably never will, and then I’ll spend the rest of the summer circling Dexter in this weird standoff we can’t seem to get past. “Okay, I’ll hurry.”

I’m thankful there’s a line out the door for the shop, it means Sierra’s busy. The front door is open and when I enter the screen door I’m greeted by Growley, who doesn’t bark at me this time, just sniffs and licks my toes. I don’t waste time but quickly move down the hallway, past the kitchen that’s a mess of dishes and half-eaten food. I run up the stairs, stopping at the first room. It’s tidy like before. The guitar propped on the stand in the corner. I pull the letter out, the corners wrinkled from me carrying it for so long. He’ll know I came up here when he finds it, but what else can I do? I don’t really want the others to know. I think of leaving it on his bed but that seems…too intimate. That bedroom thing. I’m sure any and every book I’ve ever read would say that. I look to the right and see a desk. That’ll do. I prop the letter against the lamp and my eye catches on a framed picture. It’s Dexter and Sierra—he’s younger—they both are. His hair is longer but his grin is wide. I’ve never seen him smile and I wonder if that has to do with me or with the woman in the photo; obviously his mother. They all three share the same gray eyes.

There’s a flannel hanging over the back of the chair and out of instinct I lift it up and sniff the fabric. It smells so good, like pine with a hint of something muskier. I sniff it again before leaving it like I found it.

Growley, who’s been circling my feet, turns and bolts out of the room suddenly. I figure that’s my signal to leave. It won’t take Sierra long to help those customers and the last thing I want is to be caught in the house snooping.

I step into the hallway and crash into something hard. “Oof,” I say, too rattled to be panicked. Hands grip my shoulders and I blink, looking up from the yellow Wayward Sun logo on the shirt in front of me to the sharp jaw of the exact person I didn’t want to find me.