Chapter 11
11
Josie
Two days later…
The coffee shop was full of patrons and all I wanted was a quick cup of coffee and croissant. People were staring at me. Why? So, I kept my head down and waited my turn in line.
“Michael YoungBlood?” one of patron’s asked.
“Didn't I tell you? He's the one who used to get into all sorts of trouble back in high school,” said the barista, wiping down the counter with a rag that had seen better days. The barista, a middle-aged woman with hair the color of cinnamon, shrugged as if the weight of Michael's history was something she carried every day. “His brother is in town taking care of his son since he couldn’t keep his bum ass out of jail.”
Wait? Nico was Michael’s brother? He’s a Youngblood? Even after all this time, I never once asked him for his last name. Oh god.
“Trouble” was a word too lean to describe the hurricane that was Michael YoungBlood. I remembered—the rush of rebellion, the taste of stolen kisses, the ache of promises broken beneath bleachers veiled in shadow. The asshole that crept out of my life without so much of a word.
The person in front of me moved out of the way, and I placed my order. There were plenty of people crowding the pick-up table so I took a seat. My gaze caught my reflection in the window– green eyes wide with remembrance, wavy hair framing my face like the afterimage of a girl who once believed in happy ever afters. I traced the grain of the wood with my fingertip, drawing invisible patterns as my mind whirled.
“Michael was always the one starting fights, wasn't he?” one woman asked, her words more for herself than anyone else. “Couldn't seem to find his footing after their dad left.”
“Exactly,” the barista nodded, her voice carrying a note of sympathy that harmonized with the steam hissing from the espresso machine. “He was angry at the world.”
“His brother being back is so nice. I haven’t seen him since before he left for college. That was what, right after they moved here, wasn’t it?”
My heart clenched.
Jail changes a man, though. Or maybe it doesn't.
“Josie! Grande hot mocha with extra whip!”
I didn’t waste any time picking it up and wanting to get the heck out of here.
I sipped my mocha, the foam leaving a whisper of white on my upper lip. With each passing second, the tendrils of steam seemed to weave the past and present together. Michael’s dark childhood bled into Nico’s stoic strength.
Did this seriously have to happen to me? Nico and I were building something slowly, and with Michael that would complicate things. I haven’t seen him since… heck right before graduation.
I was going to be late to Nico’s house and the last thing I wanted to do was sit around and hear these knuckleheads gossip about the Youngblood brothers. I took off, out the door, and down the street, hoping that this wasn’t going to the thing that kept us apart.
After arriving at his house - finding him outside - I had to tell him the truth. No secrets.
“Hey, Nico,” I started, my heart pounding like a drum. I plucked at the grass, suddenly finding it fascinating. “There's something I need to tell you—about Michael.”
Nico's expression remained unchanged, the calm before the storm. “What about him? How do you know my brother?”
“Michael... he's my ex. From high school.” My words hung in the air, fragile as the wings of a butterfly.
A pause lingered between us, filled with the rustle of leaves and distant bird calls. Then, Nico let out a breath, his gaze steady on mine. “Everyone's got a past, Josie. Doesn't freak me out. Although, I have no idea what you possibly could have seen in him. Even back then.”
Relief washed over her like a cleansing rain. I looked at him, really looked at him, and saw not a shadow of judgment but rather an acceptance. “Are you sure? Your brother is a whirlwind of chaos. I don’t think he will like us hanging out.”
Hanging out sounded so casual, but what we were doing was way more. Or at least it felt like it.
“I’m a grown man and my brother doesn’t scare me. He’s an idiot to let a girl like you get away. Sounds like his loss.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, the knot in my stomach unraveling. “I just didn't want to keep anything from you.”
“Nothing to thank me for.” He shrugged. “We've all been someone else before we became who we are now.”
My thoughts spun like leaves caught in a whirlwind. I wanted to wrap myself in this moment, in the safety of Nico's understanding. My feelings for him grew roots, deep and searching, entwining with hope and something that might just be the beginning of love.
“Can I tell you something?”
Nico looked up, his eyes meeting mine with an intensity that made my heart skip a beat. “Of course,” he said, leaning back on his heels, all attention.
I took a deep breath, the early breeze carrying the scent of freshly turned earth and the faintest hint of roses. “High school was tough for me,” I began, tracing the outline of a daisy with my finger. “Michael... We were young and reckless, and I thought I loved him.”
I paused, gathering my thoughts like scattered petals. Nico remained silent, a sentinel of patience.
“Things ended badly,” I continued. “He made choices—I made choices—and it all fell apart. It left scars, ones that made me build walls so high I sometimes wonder if I can see over them myself.”
Nico reached out, his hand enveloping mine, grounding me. His touch was warm, reassuring, linking us together in the quiet garden.
“Josie,” he said, lifting my chin with his other hand so I could no longer hide from his gaze. “We all carry marks from our past. They don't define us, but they do shape us into who we become. Your past with Michael—it's just that, the past.”
His words were a balm to my anxious soul. I let out a shaky laugh, marveling at the odd sense of peace that came with sharing my fears.
“Thank you.” My eyes glistened with unshed tears, not of sorrow but of gratitude. “I’ve been holding onto that story for so long, letting it dictate my steps. I didn't realize how heavy it was until now.”
Nico's thumb brushed away a rogue tear that had escaped down my cheek. “Let me be part of your story from here on out,” he whispered, his voice a soft rumble that vibrated through me. “No more shadows, Josie. Just you and me, and whatever comes next.”
I nodded, my heart swelling with an emotion that felt like the first rays of dawn after an endless night. In that tender exchange, I saw not only the man before me but also the promise of what could be—a future unfettered by yesterday's ghosts.
“Whatever comes next.”
Later, nestled in the corner booth of Lawson Ridge's diner, I poured out my heart to Molly. The checkered tablecloth beneath our elbows felt familiar and safe, like the pages of an old diary where secrets could be spilled without fear.
“Everything with Nico feels so... intense, but right,” I whispered, tracing the rim of my coffee cup, thoughts swirling like the steam rising up. “It’s like waking up to find the last piece of a puzzle that you didn’t even know was missing.”
Molly reached across the table, tapping my hand in a rhythm that matched the jukebox's soft hum. “Girl, it sounds like you're falling for him—hard. And honestly?” Her blue eyes sparkled, mirroring the conviction in her voice. “I think it's about time.”
I smiled, cheeks flushing a rosy hue that rivaled the neon 'Open' sign flickering outside. “I am. Falling, I mean.” I exhaled, a weight lifting as the words took flight. “But after everything with Michael, taking it slow with Nico seems like the only way I can trust this... whatever this is.”
“Josie, listen to me.” Molly's voice was firm yet gentle. “You've always been the one to see the beauty in every moment, to capture it behind your lens. Now, I want you to do the same with your heart.”
I traced the rim of my mug with my finger, watching the steam rise and dissipate into the air. Molly's words, though simple, carried the weight of a thousand unspoken dreams.
“Be honest with yourself,” Molly continued, leaning forward, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that demanded attention. “What is it that you truly want?”
The question hovered between us, a challenge and an invitation all at once. I took a deep breath, chest rising as I felt the tethers of my past loosening their grip. My heart, for so long guarded behind a fortress of caution, now beat with a rhythm that beckoned me towards honesty—towards Nico.
“I want…” I began, the words catching in my throat like autumn leaves in a gentle stream. “I want to let myself feel everything with Nico. The fear, the joy, the uncertainty—all of it.”
Molly's hand reached out, enveloping mine in a squeeze that spoke volumes. “Then that's what you'll do. Embrace it. Let those feelings in.”
My mind raced with the clarity of a photographer who had just found the perfect shot.