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He starts talking.
About growing up with dozens of kids who never went home because there was none.
The bruises from bullies and no one to confide in.
The janitor, Ruth, who was the closest person he had to a mother.
The girl he fell in love with only to find out he was a bet.
The children’s cruelty, the harshest kind, because it blooms like a rotten flower in those who were never loved.
The boot camp that broke him at first but then made him stronger.
The army that saved him but also gave him the worst nightmares.
About meeting Roey.
TheFifty Shades of Grey—I laugh, then hold back tears, because learning about love from books gotta be the loneliest thing ever.
I learn about the months after him leaving the army, traveling to the cities on his bucket list, getting high in the Himalayans, getting tattoos, seeing the ocean for the first time, going to the zoo, going on a first date to a small fair. Doing all the things that normal people do before turning sixteen, but he was twenty-three and trying to catch up. And he’s still catching up. And a girl, his roommate—me!—makes him breakfast for the first time in his life.
Jace laughs when he brings this up, and I fight a lump in my throat, staring at the stupid grits and hoping my tears don’t drop into them.
His voice is low and soft as he sits hunched over the kitchen island and studies his hands that stroke the coffee cup as he talks. My heart aches for him, but he’s smiling like he got blessed with the very little he got in his life.
“It’ll take years to catch up and a lifetime to correct the karma or whatever it is that gave me… my strange childhood,” he says. “But I’m happy. I think I broke the vicious cycle.” He finally raises his smiling eyes at me. “Some people never do. Some people are born into everything they can possibly wish for and turn out for the worst.”
How can he look so nonchalant while I feel like folding into myself?
My grits are cold.
My heart is hot.
I want to make him breakfast and lunch and dinner. Every day. And I want to touch him again.
I get off the chair and wrap my arms around him, giving him the tightest hug.
He might be fine, butIneed a moment. I’m spoiled by things I take for granted—family, happy childhood, good education. Jace is so strong that I feel ashamed about ever complaining.
“Promise me something, Jace,” I whisper, trying to steady my voice.
His hands cover mine. “Yes, Lu. Anything.”
I want to record his whisper so I can hear his tender voice when I’m lonely.
“When you leave, when your work is done”—my chest shakes in a sob—“wherever you are, when you feel like talking or just being with someone, you call me.”
He chuckles, his muscled body shaking against mine. “Sounds good.”
“We’ll stay in touch, won’t we? Can we?”
I pull away so I can see a yes in his eyes. They are so close, the tenderness in them makes my knees weak.
“Absolutely,” he whispers.
And that’s where Becky was right and I was wrong. I wanted a chance with him, however short. And short I got. But now I want more, so much more, falling so fast, feeling so weak at the thought of losing him, that I bite into my lower lip to keep back a sob.
“Maybe, I won’t leave,” Jace says, studying my face.
