I’m nervous.
Scared and beyond terrified of how Jesse is going to be when I see him.
God, I wonder what he looks like now. I haven’t seen him in so long, not since the day I was sentenced in court.
“You ready?” Cece’s soft voice comes from beside me.
We’re sitting in Cece’s car, across the street from where Jesse lives. She offered to drop me off before she heads to work.
“No.” I shake my head. “I don’t know if I can do this, Ce.”
I’ve wanted to see Jesse so badly since my release, but now that I’m so close to it happening, I’m sick with nerves.
She places her hand over mine, gripping it. “There’s no need to be afraid. It’s just Jesse—that sweet kid you raised, who adores you.”
“Not anymore. He hates me.”
“No, he doesn’t. He’s fourteen and angry, and he has a massive chip on his shoulder because he convinced himself that you’d left him. He knows, deep down, that it isn’t true. He just needs to see you. I think, once he sees you and you guys start talking, things will be okay.”
I look at the surety in her eyes and try to feel it myself.
“Yeah, you’re right.” I force a smile. “Thanks for the lift.” I lean over and kiss her cheek. “Have a good day at work. See you at home later.”
“Have a great day,” she calls as I climb out of the car. “And tell our boy I said hi.”
“Will do.” I give her a thumbs-up and then shut the door.
I watch her car pull away, and then I cross the street to the boys home where Jesse lives.
Walking up the steps to the front door, my legs are trembling. I take a deep breath and lift a shaking hand to ring the doorbell.
I wait, my leg jigging on the spot.
Through the frosted glass, I see someone approaching the door. Then, the door opens, revealing a man with light-brown hair, who looks to be in his early thirties.
“Hi, I’m Daisy Smith, Jesse’s sister. I was told to ask for Tim Marshall.”
“I’m Tim.” He smiles. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Daisy. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
He has?
That must mean that Jesse has talked about me.
It’s just what I needed to ease my nerves and lift my spirits a little.
“Come in,” he tells me.
I step inside. Tim closes the door behind me.
It’s quiet in the house, and I wonder where the rest of the boys who live here are.
As if reading my mind, Tim says, “The house is empty—aside from Jesse, of course. The boys have gone out for ice cream with Jenna, who works here with me,” he explains. “We thought it’d be nice to give you and Jesse some space.”
“Thank you.” I smile, but it feels awkward and clumsy on my lips. My hands are shaking. My head feels like it’s about to explode. I bind my hands together in front of me, trying to ease the trembling.
“Jesse’s just in the living room.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
“You can breathe.” He gives me a gentle smile.
I laugh softly, exhaling.
“I know how nervous you must be feeling right now. But, trust me when I say, it’s going to be okay. Jesse will never admit this, but he’s just as nervous to see you.”
“He is?” I hate to think that Jesse is feeling nervous, but knowing that I’m not alone in this and that he does actually want to see me helps.
“Don’t tell him I told you this, but he was up at six thirty this morning. He showered and is wearing his nicest clothes. For a kid who I have to put a bomb under to get him out of bed for school every morning and practically hose him down in the garden to get him to wash…well, it says a lot.”
“Yeah.” I smile, but his words also hit me. Telling me just how much Jesse has changed.
The Jesse I knew was always up and out of bed early. And he loved taking baths.
I’ve missed so many changes in his life.
Tim walks down the short hallway. Stopping at a door, he opens it. “Jesse…Daisy’s here.”
I follow inside behind Tim.
And there he is, the sole reason I get out of bed every morning.
Love floods me. Tears prick my eyes. I feel like I’ve been smothered in happiness and punched in the chest with a fistful of pain, all at the same time.
The boy I knew looks like a young man. Even sitting, I can see how tall he is. His legs are so long. And he looks so much like Dad. He must have grown about two feet in the last eighteen months.
His hair is different. He always liked to wear his hair short. But, now, his dark brown hair is all grown out, curling around his ears. His jeans are black with a chain fixed on the pocket, linking to his belt that has a skull on the front of it. His T-shirt is black with a band on the front that I’m not familiar with. He looks a world away from the boy I left.
And the way he’s looking at me…
It’s the exact same way he looked at me the last time I saw him.
Hurt mixed with disappointment. And loss. So much loss.
Pain curls like a fist around my heart and squeezes tight.
Jesse sits forward in his seat, his eyes never leaving mine.
“Hi,” I say softly, my voice not offering much.
He stares blankly at me.
“Why don’t you sit down? I’ll make us a drink. Tea or coffee? Or something cold?” Tim asks me.
Taking a seat across from Jesse, I answer Tim, “Coffee would be great. Thanks.”
“Jesse?” Tim asks.
Jesse doesn’t answer. He just shakes his head.
“Right. Well, I won’t be long.”
I watch Tim leave the room.
When I look back, Jesse is still staring at me.
The tension in the air is unnerving.
It makes me sick to my stomach to know the size of the wedge between us.
This is a kid who would talk nonstop to me. A kid who I could sit in perfect silence with and always feel at ease.
Now, it’s almost like sitting with a stranger.
But a stranger I love very much.
My mouth is dry, so I lick my lips before speaking, “You look…so grown-up.”
I watch as his eyes shut down. Shutting me out.
He’s looking at me like Kas looks at me.
Like he hates me.
Pain spikes me in the gut.
“Yeah, well, it’s been eighteen months. I’m not just gonna stop growing ’cause you haven’t been around.”
“I know. I’m sorry—”
“Save it ’cause I don’t want to hear it.” He turns his face away, looking in the direction of the TV. Leaning back, he stretches his long legs out, folding his arms over his chest.
I fight back the tears burning my eyes and take a deep breath. “So…how have you been?” I ask.
He sighs and drags his eyes from the TV and back to me. “You want to make small talk, Daisy? Really?”
Daisy. He always called me Mayday.
Another spike of pain hits me—this time, in the chest. I rub at the ache. “I just want to talk to you, Jesse.”
“Okay, let’s talk.” He swivels around in his seat, hands pressed to his thighs. He looks like he’s roaring for a fight. “How was your time in prison? You learn any new tricks? How long you staying around for? Or should I expect another visit from the cops sometime soon, telling me that you’re going back inside?”
“I-I’m not going back, Jesse. I’m here to stay.”
He lets out a bitter laugh. It hurts to hear.
“Like Mum and Dad?”
“Jesse, please…I’m not like them. You know this. Deep down, you know this. I’ve missed you so much. I just want—”
“I don’t give a shit what you want!” he yells, jumping to his feet. “As far as I’m concerned, you don’t exist anymore!”
Pain punches me square in the chest. I push to my feet. “Jesse, please. Y-you don’t mean that.”
He laughs bitterly. “Yeah, I do.”
“So, why see me today? Why let me come?”
He steps closer. “So, I could do to you what you did to me. You left me, Daisy. You fucking left me on my own. And, now, I’m leaving you. I never want to see you again. Do you hear me? As far as I’m concerned, I don’t have a sister. You’re as dead to me as Mum and Dad are.”
I feel like I’ve been shot.
Tears fill my eyes. I can’t help them or stop them from running down my cheeks.
Regret flickers in his eyes, but he quickly shuts it down. “I want you to leave.” His voice is low.
“Je-Jesse, please.” I press the heels of my hands to my cheeks to ebb the flow of tears.
“I said, go!”
His anger hits and shakes my body.
I stumble back, moving for the door.
When I reach it, I turn back. Putting strength in my spine and my voice, I say, “I know you don’t want to hear this, but I’m saying it anyway. I’m going now because you asked me to, and I’m respecting your wishes. But I love you, kiddo. I will always love you. I need you to know that I’m not going anywhere. I’m here to stay. Never again will I leave you. I will do nothing to risk ever being taken away again. I swear that to you.”
I press my hand to my chest. “I let you down, and it will never happen again. I’m going to prove to you that I mean every word. And I’m going to keep coming back every Saturday and knocking on your door until you decide to let me back in. I won’t give up on you—ever.”
“Yeah, well, good luck with that,” he mutters before turning his back on me.
Pain clamps a strong arm over my chest.
It takes everything in me to pull that door open and walk out of it, leaving him standing there.
