Fracture

1. Stella

CHAPTER 1

STELLA

Stop pulling on your damn dress. The guards are gonna think you’re doped up or something.

With a deep breath, I clasp my arms across my chest to stop my restless fingers tugging at the waistline of my dress. The dress I spent three damn hours picking out. I try not to think about the state of my bedroom right now, clothes strewn across the floor and my bed, like the ladies’ department at Nordstrom’s after being torn apart on Black Friday.

Why did it even matter what I wore today?

I don’t even know. But every single outfit I put on was wrong. One dress was too short, another made me look like a Mormon preschool teacher (that one ended up in the Goodwill bag). I wanted to look the part - what part that was, I still don’t know.

I was trying to prove something, that I was sophisticated and trustworthy. I’m a lawyer after all, the responsible little sister who’s letting her stepbrother and his best friend stay with her while they get their lives together.

But the thought of Levi and Dylan seeing me in my silk blouses and pencil skirts after 10 years apart made my cheeks burn. I wanted them to see me, me , not a lawyer, not jumped-up trust fund baby Stella Langford.

I just wanted them to see me.

So the silk blouses ended up on the floor with the rest of my wardrobe. I’m standing outside the prison on Governor’s Day in a black and white knee-length dress and ballerina flats, my hair loose, because Dylan always liked it that way.

I hate that I hope he still does.

I pace back and forth, past all the other groups of anxious folks, waiting for their loved ones to pass through those gates. It’s a mass release, celebrating 15 years since the prison opened. It’s been all over the news, the governor crowing about how these men are all rehabilitated now thanks to the prison’s stellar programs. Even the two murderers who killed Harold Langford are being released.

And moving in with his daughter.

My eyes dart to the perimeter of the parking lot. I’m sure a van followed me here, and I wait for the reporters to jump out and start taking pictures. It’s been several years since they stopped hounding me, but I have a sick feeling they’ll be here just to get an exclusive scoop on this day.

I release one of my trembling hands to run it through my hair. That’s why I’m nervous. It’s the reporters, not the fact that I’m about to see these two men again after 10 years. 10 years of nothing but letters that were never answered.

But it’s still us, right?

My stomach drops as I consider that they’ll be disappointed, and mad. That they’ll demand to know why I never visited, why my letters were so bland, telling them nothing about me or my life, nothing meaningful at least. Maybe they’ll lay their eyes on me and hate what I’ve become. They’ll see my pretty little Cape Cod house on the good side of Bellford Heights, and laugh at me.

But their bikes are in the garage. I made sure to take those from the old house when I sold it. They’re in there with a pool table and their pock-marked dartboard, and the bar I had built especially for them. I stocked it with beer and whiskey, all in preparation for them. For us to start our lives again.

Surely they’re going to be happy about that, right?

I give myself a mental slap. Goddammit, Stella. You’re a grown-ass woman and you’re acting like you want to impress two little teenage boys. Get a fucking grip .

There’s movement behind the gates, and the guards start shouting commands. The families around me all seem as tense as I am, watching and waiting for the men we love to emerge from behind that endless razor wire.

My throat goes dry as I wonder if I’ll even recognize them? Will Levi still have that floppy blond hair I used to tease him about? Will Dylan still have that lip ring that was warm against my mouth whenever he kissed me? They were barely men when I last saw them, all those years ago, that last moment when their eyes met mine in the courtroom.

And now…?

The gate rolls back, and a woman in a tight red dress and sky-high heels races past me and into the arms of the first man to walk through. He scoops her up and she wraps her arms around his neck, kissing him like no one else is around. Good for them.

A young man walks out hesitantly, he can’t be older than 22. He pushes his dark curls from his forehead, his eyes darting around at the people gathered outside the gate, when suddenly someone screams, and a group of people rush at him. He bursts into tears as the people encircle him, crying and cradling his face in their hands, all of them caught somewhere between sorrow and joy.

One prisoner after another emerges, and I count them all out, five, six, nine, fourteen. Twenty prisoners are being released today.

My throat becomes tight. Shit. Did they rescind their parole? Did I get the date wrong? Maybe not everyone is getting released today? I pull out my phone and check my emails. No, it’s definitely today.

Where are they?

My hands begin to tremble again, just as two figures emerge from the gray building and start walking towards the gate. Both are dressed in dark wash jeans and tight black t-shirts, duffle bags slung over their shoulders.

One has messy dark blond hair, both arms and hands heavily tattooed. The other has a close-shaved head, shadowed with dark stubble, his brown skin glowing in the warm summer sun. They stop at the guards’ house, shaking the guard’s hands and laughing heartily, before turning back to the gate and walking towards me.

My heart stops.

It’s them.

I’m frozen to the spot, just watching them approach. Should I walk towards them? Should I run into Dylan’s arms like the lady in the red dress did with her man? Do I scream and throw my arms around Levi, caught between sorrow and joy just like that family was? That would be weird, right? If someone sees me tearfully run into the arms of the two men who murdered my father, people will think there’s something wrong with me, even more than they already do.

My heart restarts, and sinks into my feet. No, these two aren’t my men.

It’s not like that. Not anymore.

Dylan’s full lips - now minus the piercing - quirk into a smile as his dark eyes lock on me. He’s so much taller than I remember. He always towered over me, but now he’s a sheer wall of muscle. Tattoos snake up his neck, emerging from the neckline of the black t-shirt that’s straining around his body. When he raises a hand to his head, saluting me, I see his hands are tattooed as well.

My gaze shifts to Levi, and my heart does a weird flip. He looks so different. The boy who used to argue with me over bathroom rights, who let me borrow his car to sneak out and meet up with my friends, is now a broad-shouldered man. His ice-blue eyes are startling in his tanned face, the black t-shirt he’s wearing straining across his chest, and while he’s shorter than Dylan, he’s no less intimidating when he’s standing right in front of me.

Oh god, they’re right in front of me and I’m just staring at them.

“Stella Langford,” Dylan says, shifting the bag on his shoulder. “You look beautiful.”

I don’t say anything. I just stare at them, my gaze shifting from one to the other, hoping and praying this is real. They exchange a glance, and when Levi looks back at me, his lips raise into a smile. He steps forward, and slips his arm around my shoulders.

“Hey, baby girl,” he murmurs against my temple, pressing a kiss to my hair.

Something inside me cracks a little as I lean against him. I put my hands on his chest, tears burning my eyes as I let out a small laugh.

“Hey.”

Levi pulls back and notches his fingers under my chin, angling my head so I’m looking up at him. “No tears now. We’re here.”

“You smell good,” I blurt out, and Levi laughs, making him look even more beautiful.

“Well, lucky for us it’s a good prison. They even let us shower.”

I sniffle and brush my tears away from my face before turning to Dylan.

His big dark eyes burn into mine, and he drops the bag from his shoulder. He moves towards me, then hesitates, looking around us.

“I’m not going to get gunned down by a husband if I hug you right now, am I?”

I shake my head emphatically. “No, it’s just - it’s just me.”

His expression is totally unreadable as he closes the distance between us and crushes me against his chest.

“ Fuck ,” he mutters, burying his face in the crook of my neck. “I missed you.”

I wish now I’d run across the yard towards them, like the woman in the red dress, and launched myself into the arms of this man. It still feels like him, like Dylan, my Dylan. I let out a breath that carries 10 years of sadness and longing with it, and clench my eyes shut, fresh tears running down my face.

“I can’t believe you’re here.” I reach out for Levi and pull him against us, so we’re all touching, all breathing together, and for the first time in 10 years, something like peace washes through me.

But it doesn’t last. Calls of Stella! Stella! shatter the moment instantly, echoing across the parking lot as cameras start to flash.

Dylan growls out a curse, leaning down to scoop up his bag before shielding me with his body. “Which car is yours, sweetheart?”

I raise a shaky hand and point to my shiny black Volvo. “That one.”

“Fucking reporters,” Levi spits out behind us. “They do this a lot?”

“No. But they knew you were getting out, so…” I trail off, feeling cold despite the hot sun that’s beating down on us. That peace I felt mere seconds ago is gone, and replaced with the knowledge that the past will never stop snapping at my heels. Even Dylan’s hand on my waist as he guides me back to my car feels wrong.

I was a fool. It can never be what it was, what it was meant to be. Not when the past was right here, staring me in the face, never to leave me alone.

“Hey girl, how’re the jailbirds?” Zee’s voice is bright and in stark contrast to how I’m feeling right now.

I turn to look out the kitchen window towards the garage. The lights are on, and bass thumps faintly through the evening breeze. “They’re good. I think?”

“You think?”

“They’ve been out in the garage since they got back.” I scrunch up my nose. “That’s bad, right?”

“Why would it be bad?”

“That they… I don’t know.” I twirl my hair around my fingers, tapping my foot against the ground. “I keep thinking I should go out there, but maybe they don’t want me there? Do you think? Was it wrong to bring them here?”

Zee lets out an exasperated sigh that whispers across the line. “Will you stop overthinking things? They’re probably trying to just reclaim some space while not stepping on your toes, y’know?”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“Stop chewing your lip.”

I instantly release my lip from between my anxiously gnawing teeth. “How the fuck do you know these things?”

They laugh lightly, and I can practically hear them flipping their hair. “Girl, I told you, I’m psychic.”

“Yeah, or a stalker. Bet you got cameras in my damn kitchen.”

“Nah, only in your bedroom.”

I huff out a laugh, gazing back out at the garage as the bass stops for a moment, then starts up again with the next song. “You’re probably right. They just need time.”

“You all need time, girl. It’s been 10 years, you need to get to know each other again.” Zee waits for my response, but when I simply keep staring out the window at the fairy lights dangling in the trees, they sigh heavily. “OK, listen. I want you to order some takeout, and go crash that bachelor pad. They’ve had their boy time, let them have some family time now.”

I cringe a little at the word family . “Reporters were at the prison, waiting for us.”

Zee’s disgusted retch sounds over the line. “Those absolute pigs.”

“I can see it now, all over the National Enquirer tomorrow - Daughter of Murdered Politician Embraces Father’s Murderers .”

“Well, no one reads that trash, so don’t you worry about that. Sorry, wait, hold on.” Zee’s muffled voice barks out commands, probably to one of the stylists at the salon they own downtown.

I pivot the phone away from my mouth, taking a few ambling steps across the kitchen to the open back door. I lean in the door frame, taking a deep breath of honeysuckle-scented air as a sliver of moon rises into the sky.

“OK, sorry, I’m back.” Zee’s harried voice sounds back over the line.

“You’re busy, I don’t want to keep you.”

“I’m sorry, girl, I got a whole crew of bridesmaids in here for trial styles, and this bride needs her own goddamn TV show.”

“They have one, it’s called Bridezillas,” I say with a chuckle.

“Oh, this one needs her own show .” Zee groans. “If you need me, I can stop by after I close up.”

“No, no, it’s OK really. We’ll do coffee this weekend.”

“We sure will. Tell Dylan I said hi. Love you!” They hang up before I can respond, and I take the phone from my ear.

A message from my cousin Lily appears on the screen, but I swipe it away without reading it. I’m not ready to talk about what’s happened or what I’m doing with my family yet.

Family . There’s that word again.

I roll my shoulders, using the breathing technique my yoga teacher taught me to calm my system, and feel my spine fall into alignment. It’s OK. You’re all together. They wanted to be here. Just order some dinner and go on out there, and have a beer with them .

By the time I’ve submitted the order and the little orange scooter icon appears on my screen, I’ve calmed down enough to head across the yard to the garage. Music meets me as I step through the door.

“Hey!” Thankfully my raised voice doesn’t crack, and is heard over the music that’s almost loud enough to have the floor vibrating. Both men look up from where they’re crouched next to their bikes. I hold up my phone and give it a wave, instantly feeling like an idiot. “I ordered dinner!”

Dylan rises to his feet and goes over to the speaker, swiping his finger across the screen to turn the music down. The sudden silence is almost startling, and we all just stare at each other for a moment before I remember why I came in here.

“Sorry to bother you, but I ordered some food.” I am feeling totally out of my depth for absolutely no reason.

Dylan smiles warmly, and retrieves a beer from the fridge. “You’re not bothering us, sweetheart. This is your house, we’re just guests.”

“Oh no, come on, this is your house. I want you to be comfortable here.” I gesture around the garage. “That’s why I did this. For you. Both of you.” I swallow hard. “You do like it, right?” I want to slap myself, standing here begging for approval from these two.

Levi grunts from where he’s crouched next to his bike, not looking up from the wrench he has jammed into the engine. “You kidding? This place is great.” He runs the back of his hand across his forehead. “But I wouldn’t expect anything less from you.”

My cheeks burn at the praise and my eyes drop to the floor. “Well, thanks.”

“Gotta say, I nearly died when I heard you were a lawyer,” Dylan says, taking a swig of his beer.

I give him a blank stare. “Why would that shock you?”

He shrugs, putting the beer bottle on the bar and twirling it back and forth between his fingers. “I don’t know. Guess everything I know about you now is a shock. You know, since you never told us anything.”

“Or came to see us,” Levi mutters from the floor, and my head snaps to look over at him.

“I heard that.”

Levi rises to his feet, wiping his hands on a rag. “I kind of meant you to.”

I try to swallow down any unpleasant words I want to hurl in his direction. I’m determined to be nice Stella tonight, not Overthinking Stella, not Paranoid Stella. But his words leave behind a sting so sharp they make my throat turn sour.

“And where are all my letters, huh?” I put my hands on my hips. “Or did you forget how to write as soon as you were inside?”

“Stella.” Dylan approaches me with his hands raised, like I’m a bomb ready to go off. “Come on, things were weird and-”

“Weird?” I laugh cynically. “ Weird , Dylan? Weird doesn’t even begin to fucking cover it. That still doesn’t explain why neither of you ever once replied to a single letter of mine until it came to you through my fucking lawyer .”

“We needed a place to stay,” Levi interjects, crossing his tattooed arms over his chest.

“So, that’s all I am to you, huh? A place to crash?” I stalk towards him so we’re almost chest to chest. “That’s it? After all your fucking ‘oh baby girl’ this and ‘don’t cry’ that?”

“Hey, I’m happy to see you, but-”

“But what ?” I shove him in the shoulder with my open palm. “But what, huh?”

He leans down, his eyes narrowing. “But I guess I’m not surprised to see that you fell into line.”

My mouth gapes, and I suppress the urge to slap him. “I fell into line?”

“Sure you did, look at you. Pretty little Stella Langford. Perfect as ever, doing exactly what everyone ever expected of her.”

Dylan is beside us, looking back and forth between us. “Hey, come on now, it’s been a crazy day for everyone. Let’s not ruin it with fighting.”

Levi laughs out loud, and turns to him. “Don’t you even pretend you’re here for anything more than a piece of ass.”

Dylan’s jaw ticks, and he puts his hands against his hips. “That was fucking uncalled for, man.”

“Oh, but is it true?” I round on Dylan, and hurt flashes through his eyes. “Because the first thing you asked about is a husband.”

He tries to move closer to me, and I take a step back, which just has more pain etching across his face.

“Sweetheart, listen to me-”

“Food delivery!” A cheerful voice rings across the garage, and a young woman stands at the door with two paper bags in her hands. “How y’all doing tonight?”

The three of us must be looking at her with enough rage and tension to make her very uncomfortable, because the smile wavers and she eyes us nervously.

“I have the right house, don’t I? It said 1247, just let me-” She anxiously looks down at the bag, and I quickly paste a smile on my face and hurry across the room.

“Yes of course you do, this is the house, thank you so much.” I fish the fifty dollar bill out of my pocket and hand it over, taking the bags from her. “You have a good night. Be safe!”

The poor woman hurries down the drive, away from the house, and I turn back to face the two men in my garage. The two men I was so happy to see this morning, and who I now don’t even recognize. It all just changed in an instant.

“I got us dinner.” I swallow hard, biting back tears.

Dylan takes a few steps towards me, but before he reaches me, I drop the bags and spin on my heel, hurrying back into the house alone.