The Wayward Sons: (Book 4) Starlee's Hope Read online

  “We’ve got to do something,” Margaret says, eyeing the kids. They look adorable. Dressed in their finest, even if that means jeans and a clean T-shirt. Most of the girls went all-out, wearing sparkly dresses and shiny shoes. They stand in clumps and the flashbacks to my own sixth grade dance are intense.

  “We could play a game?” Jasper suggests.

  “No!” Margaret says. “This is a dance—we need to dance.”

  “Well,” he says, looking Margaret over, “let’s dance.”

  He offers her hand and she stares at it warily. I nudge her with my elbow. “Go for it. I don’t think he bites.”

  “Fine,” she says, slipping her hand in his, “but you all better get out there too.”

  Then there’s that awkward moment where you have to pick which one of your boyfriends to dance with. Luckily, they make the decision for me. Jake gives me a sweet smile but walks over to Claire. “Wanna dance?”

  “Sure,” she replies, looking a little relieved.

  George walks in Christina’s direction. She’s still watching Jake and Claire with narrowed eyes, but looks a little horrified at the twin walking her way. Abruptly he shifts and looks at the girl next to her. “How about it?”

  The girl, I think her name is Miranda, shrugs. “Sure, whatever.”

  He winks at Christina and grins at me, walking Miranda toward the center of the gym.

  That leaves me, Christina, and Dexter. He’s standing before me, handsome in black pants and a gray shirt. The only time I see him dressed up is going to court, and it’s nice to see him shed the flannel for one afternoon. He doesn’t even look at Christina, whose arms are now crossed looking fairly humiliated, just offers his hand and I take it, feeling the warm heat of his fingers.

  I hesitate before walking away.

  “Something wrong?” he asks.

  “As much as I want to dance with you, maybe now’s a good time to thank Christina for saving our asses on New Year’s.”

  His eyebrows raise. “Really?”

  “Yeah, really.”

  “What about you?”

  I look over his shoulder, toward the stage. “I think I’ll manage.”

  Passing the kids, who are definitely watching the big “kids” in the middle of the gym, I climb the steps to the stage. Charlie, dressed in khakis and light blue button-down, sees me and smiles. “What’s going on?”

  I nod down to the floor. “Being a good example.” I hold out my hand. “Want to be my partner?”

  His expression turns apprehensive. “I don’t know how to dance.”

  I shrug. “Me either.” That doesn’t convince him. “Do you think those kids know how to dance? That’s what we’re here for, to show them it’s okay to look stupid and have a little fun.”

  His eyes skirt to the floor and he chuckles. “I think my brother is proving that to them right now.”

  I look and shake my head. Sure enough, George is wiggling around under the disco ball, arms waving, hips shaking, paving the way for the kids to feel confident in making a fool of himself. Poor Miranda.

  “Okay give me one second.” He moves back to the computer and presses a few buttons. Then he takes my hand, leading me back down the steps. We join the others in the center of the gym. We have an awkward moment while the music shifts, Charlie’s hands lowering to my hips while mine link around his neck. I recognize the music immediately. It’s one of the songs played all the time at the Wayward Sun. Landslide, by Fleetwood Mac.

  “I love this song.”

  “I know,” he says, looking down at me. “You sing it all the time.”

  This boy. He surprises me all the time. I always think he’s in his own world, playing and plotting games, but he’s not. He’s here with us, with me. He applies a little pressure on my waist and I run my fingers through the shaggy hair at the back of his neck. I let him lead me around the floor.

  “What’s going on with that?” He nods to Dexter and Christina talking near the snack table. They didn’t make it to the dance floor but things look civil.

  “He’s thanking her for stepping forward on New Years.”

  He nods. “Good.”

  The song comes to an end and Charlie’s fingers squeeze against my sides one last time. Margaret rushes around to each couple on the floor. “Okay, go, ask a kid to dance. Make this party happen, people!”

  With our own insecurities in check, that’s exactly what we do. Over the next hour we encourage the kids one-by-one to join in the fun, each of us taking a special interest in someone that needs a little extra motivation.

  After most of the kids are on the floor, I spot a girl lingering by the bleachers. Her hair is dark and twisted into two braids, her dress made of light blue crushed velvet. Sparkly shoes, with scuffed toes, cover her feet. She’s probably in fifth or sixth grade. I walk through the crowd and approach her.

  “Hi,” I say, sitting beside her. “I’m Starlee, what’s your name?”

  “Brianna.”

  “Don’t you want to dance with everyone else?”

  “No thanks. I’m good.”

  Her unease is visible, palpable, and I feel something strange in my chest. I look out at the kids finally loosened up a little and having fun. “What grade are you in?”

  “Sixth.”

  Bingo.

  “I used to get so nervous about things like this—social things. I actually ended up being home-schooled because of it.”

  Brianna looks me over. “Really?”

  “Yes. I was so intimidated by the other kids at school and just really anxious all the time.”

  “I hate school,” she admits.

  “Why?”

  Her eyes slide toward a group of kids. They were the first and easiest ones to get on the dance floor. Even at twelve, the confidence rolls off them in waves. My heart breaks for this little girl.

  Across the gym, Jake cuts through the crowd and our eyes meet. He gives me a small smile. I incline my head and he starts to walk over.

  Brianna notices. “Do you know him?”

  “I do. He’s one of my friends.”

  “Wow…he’s like, he looks like one of those guys you see on TV—like on the CW.” I laugh because it’s so ridiculously true. “He’s really your friend?”

  “One of my best friends. But it took me until I was almost a senior in high school to find him—and my other friends.” I nudge her with my knee. “Sometimes it takes a while to find the people you’re supposed to be with. It can be really hard to find your tribe, but I promise, they’re out there somewhere.”

  Jake strolls up, hands tucked into his pocket. Brianna looks up at him with red cheeks.

  “Jake, this is my friend Brianna.”

  “Hi, Brianna.”

  “Hi.” She looks like she may implode.

  “Would you like to dance?” he offers, holding out his hand.

  She glances at me, panicked.

  “He’s a good dancer,” I say. “And super nice.”

  The girl stares at his hand for a long moment and I feel the questions, the concerns, the millions of excuses running through her brain. I’ve been there and that second-guessing sucks. She takes a quick breath and says, “Okay.”

  A strange relief floods through me and as Jake takes her hand and walks away, he looks over her head and winks at me. Butterflies fill my stomach at the gesture, because even after all this time he makes me flustered, just like that little girl.

  But the wayward sons aren’t just handsome and talented, they’re sweet and charming—they care about people and know how to reach girls like me. Girls like Brianna.

  It’s almost like magic.

  8

  Charlie

  “You know, that was really fun,” Starlee says once the kids are gone. Margaret deemed the event a success. Claire suggested we clean up and head over to the diner for dinner. That got everyone to focus on finishing up.

  “Thank god,” George says. “I’m starving.”

  “There are cupc
akes left,” Christina says, holding out a container she’s repacking.

  He gives her a tight smile. “Uh, thanks but I’m off sugar right now.”

  “You had three glasses of punch. I saw you.”

  His eyes dart to Dexter, pleading. Now that we seem to have a tentative truce with Christina, no one wants to get her worked up again. Dexter sighs but turns to her and says, “If you want to learn how to make a good cupcake, we can talk. I know a few tricks.”

  “My cupcakes are fine.”

  “No,” Jasper says, walking by with a box of supplies, “they are not. Listen to the baker. He’s a pro.”

  All of this happens while I break down the sound system up on the stage. Everyone gets busy cleaning up, motivated by hunger and the desire to get done. Starlee walks across the gym and up the stage steps. She looks amazing in her dress—something I should have told her before. Sometimes when I’m around her, the words get caught in my throat. I’ve always had a hard time expressing myself verbally—with Starlee it’s both easier and harder. Easier because she’s fun and kind and understands me. Hard because the things I want to say to her—how I feel about her—scares me.

  The scent of her shampoo arrives at the table before she does.

  “Need any help?”

  “I don’t think so,” I say, winding cords into organized clusters. She picks up one and copies me. “That turned out better than expected.”

  “I think most of the kids had a good time,” she agrees. “How about you? I saw you dancing with a few lucky little girls.”

  I laugh and push my glasses back up my nose. “Not sure how lucky they were. Except I guess that meant they didn’t have to dance with George. Seriously, I have never understood where all that energy comes from.” I look across the room at my brother, who’s actively stomping on balloons. “Or the confidence.”

  “If it makes you feel better, neither do I. I’ve always worried about making a fool out of myself.” She shifts on her feet. “It’s crazy in a way, like, I know people aren’t paying attention to me. I was never the kid that was very popular or the center of attention, but that little nagging voice in my head convinced me otherwise. Tricking me into thinking everyone noticed everything about me all the time.” She shakes her head. “I know it’s illogical.”

  “It’s probably more normal than you think.” I place another cord in the plastic box on the table. “It’s hard to think of you like that—how you were when you first got here. You were so shy and quiet.”

  “I was terrified.” The cord in her hand unravels. We both jump to catch it and our hands brush. Electricity jolts between us. “Sometimes I’m still terrified.”

  “Of what?”

  She hands me the cord and sits on the table, dress pulling up her thighs. The dress is sweet, innocent. She has that way of dressing completely and totally appropriate yet all it does is make me want to do is touch that covered skin. Feel her mouth against mine. But then, there’s the other side. The one that lurks in my chest. I’m worried that I don’t know how to be the right person for her. How to move forward. Her eyes catch mine and I feel exposed, like she could tell what I was thinking.

  “You’re hard to read,” she says suddenly, “and that makes me nervous.”

  “I don’t mean to.”

  “I know.” She smiles. “There are times when you and I are together alone that I feel so close to you. As close as I do with the others, but then when we’re in a group it’s harder to reach you.”

  I look across the room at my twin and the two guys I think of as brothers. “The idea of being compared to them is more than a little intimidating.”

  “What about me? I have to vie for your attention with those hot girls in your video games.”

  That makes me blush, my cheeks and neck burning with fire. “Those aren’t real people, Starlee.”

  She gives me a look that says if I have to clarify that out loud, then I may have a problem. I don’t. Not with pretend women. But this one in front of me…I reach a hand out and touch her knee.

  I take a deep breath to steady myself for what I’m about to say. The timing seems wrong but I’ve been carrying it around for a while. She needs to know and I need to man up and say it. “There’s no one I find more beautiful than you. Not in the real world or the virtual one. You’re the best person I know, Starlee, inside and out. After everything with my dad...it’s hard to trust people.” I look over at George again. “My brother is like a golden retriever. He just wants love and affection. He needs it.”

  “That’s a perfect description, but are you saying you don’t know if you can trust me?"

  She watches me carefully. I wonder if she can hear my heart pounding hard in my chest. “No, I do trust you but, I don’t know, I’m not sure I trust myself?”

  She reaches out and places her hand on my cheek. I want to turn into her, hug her, wrap myself inside her like a blanket. “He really fucked with your head, didn’t he?”

  Tears burn at my eyes—not something I expected right here. “I’ll be okay.”

  “You will,” she agrees, “and I’m here for you. Always. However you need it, the time, the space, all of it.”

  “Thank you.”

  She wraps her arms around me, holding me tight. After a minute she pulls back and says, “Also, don’t think I compare any of you. I don’t. Ever. You’re all different to me. Special and unique. What you and I have together is about us—and only us. Nothing that happens with them applies.” She raises her eyebrows. “Understand?”

  “Perfectly,” I say, feeling that familiar rush of heat, the one that tells me it’s worth it to keep pursuing this. Pursuing her, until we get it right.

  9

  Starlee

  My mom texts while we’re on the way home.

  Meet me at Epic. Bring the boys.

  “I thought they were closed tonight,” Dexter says, parking the Jeep.

  We all climb out and Dex pockets the keys. As a group, we walk across the lawn.

  “Did she say anything else?” Charlie asks.

  “No,” I tell them. The main room is only faintly lit, but from the yard I see the side porch, the one where we shared kisses under the mistletoe, is lit up. Jake bounds up the stairs first, opening the door for everyone. The guys let me walk in first, Jake’s hand grazing my lower back.

  “Mom?” I call, walking toward the enclosed porch. “You back here?”

  “Maybe it’s like one of those Valentine's movies where everyone gets murdered,” George says in a whisper.

  I give him a horrified look. Dexter smacks him across the head at the same moment Jake punches him in the bicep. He rubs both and shakes his head in offense. “I was just kidding, geez.”

  My mom comes from the small hallway that leads to the bathrooms, thankfully in one piece.

  “Oh good,” she says, checking out my dress and the boys' suits. “How was the party?”

  “Fun,” I say, although my feet are killing me in these shoes and I kick them off. “What’s going on?”

  “Your grandmother asked me to come over. Your guess is as good as mine.”

  She walks onto the porch first and I follow. The boys come in behind me. Candles are lit all over the room and a dozen red roses are in a vase on the coffee table. Leelee and Tom sit on the couch. My grandmother has a wide smile on her face. Actually, they both do.

  “We have an announcement,” LeeLee says, her voice filled with excitement. Nerves twist in my stomach and I feel slim, cool fingers slip in my hand. My mother’s.

  “I asked Lee to marry me,” Tom says, his blue eyes twinkling.

  “And I said yes!”

  My mother gasps, audibly, and I’m just shocked. Happy but shocked. The guys voice their congratulations and I feel their touches on my back, my shoulders as they offer handshakes with Tom in congratulations. Mom circles the coffee table and embraces her mother. The look on Mom’s face seems genuinely happy—and I’m glad. I’m happy, too. LeeLee looks up at me, her eyes
bright and happy.

  “Well?” she says, as though she’s waiting for my input.

  “I’m just…” tears well in my eyes. There’s something so perfect about this. “I’m just really happy for you both.”

  She pulls me into a tight hug and whispers in my ear. “I’m so glad you’re here to share this with us.”

  “Oh,” Tom says suddenly, “I have champagne.”

  His smile is broad and excited as he leaves the room. Dexter and Jake follow him out to help. I see the happy expressions on George and Charlie’s faces and I realize more than ever that the tattoo we all wear is true. Family is more than blood and tonight we’re adding someone new.

  The weekend is spent discussing wedding plans. Tom and LeeLee definitely want it later in the spring, when the flowers are blooming and the weather is warming. We agree to the weekend before graduation. Dexter will bake the cake. For obvious reasons, she’ll wear cream and not white. Other than those little details, they haven’t decided on a location (The lawn? The chapel in Yosemite? By the lake?) and by the time school starts on Monday I think I’m glad for the break from the other two Starlees as they try to narrow this down.

  “Starlee,” Ms. Peterman says as I shade on my paper with a thick stick of charcoal. I look up and see an office courier at the door. A slip of paper in her hands. I gather my things and take the paper.

  “Do you know what this is for?”

  “Standard counselor meeting, I think. We’ve been pulling kids all day.”

  “Counselor meeting?”

  “Yeah, to go over your GPA, test scores, and college choices.”

  “Oh, right.” A panicky feeling worms up my spine. I’d been avoiding all of this since my mom was fishing around about it a few weeks earlier.

  I walk in the office and the secretary is on the phone. She points down the hall to the counselor’s office. I knock on the door and Mrs. Addison answers. “Starlee, come in.”

  Her desk is filled with files, brochures, and paperwork. A stack of books rests on top of a shelf. Her diploma in a big, black frame. Light blue and gray pom-poms sit next to a woolly mammoth with the school logo stitched on the front.