Hothouse Flower (Sound of Silence Series, Book Three)
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Recipes
Other Books by Taylor Dean
About the Author
HOTHOUSE
Flower
Sound of Silence Series
Book Three
Shay’s Story
taylor dean
Hothouse Flower
Copyright © 2018 by Taylor Dean
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictionally. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
www.taylordeanbooks.com
Cover photograph by: Jamie Tervort Photography
Cover models: Rachel Washburn, Alex Washburn
Cover design by: Jules Isaacs
Author photo: Jules Isaacs
Edited by: Jules Isaacs
E-book formatting by: Maureen Cutajar
Print ISBN: 978-1548351229
To my father, who lost his battle with pancreatic cancer in July of 2016.
If only I could have written a different ending for him.
Acknowledgements
Special thanks to Corian Taylor for sharing his knowledge of gluten-free, sugar-free, dairy-free, and grain-free baking. The recipes for several of the baked goods mentioned in this book are featured at the end for your use and enjoyment.
A huge thank you to my niece and her hubby, Rachel and Alex Washburn, for being my cover models. Also, thank you to Jamie Tervort Photography for allowing me to use Alex and Rachel’s engagement photograph for my book cover.
Dear Reader,
The Sound of Silence Series is a three book series.
Book one: Stone Silence, Spencer’s Story
Book two: Jailbird, Mia’s Story
Book three: Hothouse Flower, Shay’s Story
Each book has a happy ending and there are no cliffhangers. They are not standalones and should be read in order.
Table of Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Epilogue
Recipes
Other Books by Taylor Dean
About the Author
Hothouse flower:
A flower that isn’t hardy enough to grow under natural conditions. It has to be pampered and grown in a greenhouse.
CHAPTER
One
“I’LL BE RIGHT down to help with dinner, Mom,” I holler. It will just be a few minutes because I’m busy staring out the window at the man I’ve loved nearly all my life.
He’s home. He’s actually home—just across the street from me, only yards away. I swear I can physically feel his presence and it’s killing me.
Jace Faraday. The love of my youth.
He just arrived at his mother’s house across the street. It’s early evening and I’m watching from my upstairs bedroom window just like I used to do as a teenager. All those old feelings I had for him are rushing over me just as strong as ever. Except now I’m a twenty-six year old woman and, sadly, I feel as though I’m too old to feel giddy over a man.
He is the one man in my life that I have ever truly loved. I loved everything about him from his huge smile to his soft voice to his fabulous laugh. I loved his brawny physique, yet the fact that he had such a gentle touch.
I loved his sense of humor the most of all. When we first started to say I love you to each other, they were serious moments and I knew he meant it as much as I did. As time went by, I would whisper I love you to him and he’d respond in a silly voice, “And I’ve grown fond of you.” It reduced me to a writhing mass of giggles every time.
I was young when I first met him. His family moved in across the street when I was in kindergarten. By the time I was in fifth grade, I was sure he was the man I would marry. I was just a little girl with stars in her eyes, someone who was in love with love. By then Jace was in the eighth grade and seemed larger than life to me.
That feeling of hero worship I felt as a little girl has never left me. He was always kind and friendly to me, but he didn’t really notice me until I was a freshman and we went to high school together. He was a senior by then and my childhood crush had grown to massive proportions. Suddenly my feelings were returned and our relationship escalated quickly. We loved each other intensely and deeply, almost wildly. We were crazy for each other. It was a whirlwind of a year, but our love for each other had been building for years and when it finally happened, we exploded, letting our feelings out without a hesitant thought.
I know our families thought we were too young to understand what love really is. They thought we were cute and often commented on what an adorable couple we made. On occasion, they even speculated over whether or not we would marry one day. I always assumed they supported that notion. But looking back on it now, I often wonder if it was just the equivalent of smiling and patting our heads.
I sigh as I stare at the very person who causes my emotions to stir in epic waves.
I watch as Grayson and Mia—the newlyweds—and Blake greet Jace on the front lawn. Even Irene, looking frail, steps outside. It’s a joyous reunion, the kind of reunion I always imagined I would have with him one day.
It wasn’t meant to be.
I notice he glances at my house at least five times during the five minutes they are out front. That’s once per minute. On average, that’s about how many times I think of him in a given day. Once per minute.
I don’t want Jace to see me spying on him, so I duck behind my drapes and hide, feeling silly. I peek out through a slit in the drapes, feasting my eyes on him while my stomach burns with bitterness.
After all this time, he still consumes my thoughts. It’s impossible to forget your first love, the love of your life—even when he betrays you in the worst possible way.
Now that he’s home I need to keep my heart hardened against him for that very reason. He is my soft spot. But I won’t let him in. I am thick and inaccessible. Impassable. It’s my new mantra.
My walls are up, but inside I’m a squishy marshmallow. It’s so sticky in there, I am held a prisoner by my own heart.
He looks mighty fine in his perfectly tailored suit and I find myself wondering why on earth he’s wearing a suit while completing his personal travel. Habit, maybe. After all, it’s the preferred manner of dress for a fancy New York City lawyer. Maybe he’s so used to wearing suits that it’s a hard habit to break. He’s like a foreigner
in Sweetwater now. He no longer belongs here, he moved on to a faster pace of life. I’m surprised he could lower himself enough to return to good ol’ Sweetwater, Texas. It must feel like the back of beyond.
He’s never returned home since we broke up. Not once. Who does that? His poor mother has missed him horribly.
When they all go inside the house and the door slams shut, I feel left out and cut off. A slamming door represents the end of opportunities. Sadly, the door that leads to Jace has been locked for quite some time now. With a dead bolt.
Brit runs into my room, “Mama . . . making dinner.”
I turn from the window as my precious daughter runs into my arms. I pick her up and hold her close. The sweet smell of baby shampoo tickles my senses. All of my heartache disappears. Brit is the true love of my life. I never knew how much a child could heal my heart until I held her for the first time. Suddenly she was the most important thing in the world and my needs faded into the background. I don’t ignore myself, but my priorities have definitely shifted. Since Brit entered my life I have learned to put someone else’s needs in front of my own. Life isn’t all about me anymore. She has taught me to find happiness by forgetting about myself.
“It’s ghetti, Mommy. Yummy!”
Ghetti is code for spaghetti, Brit’s favorite. “Oh boy. I love ghetti. I’ll race you to the kitchen.”
“Okay,” Brit says as she squirms out of my arms and makes a mad dash for the hallway. She takes the stairs carefully just as she has been taught to do and I praise her for it. Once at the bottom, the race is on again. About four of her steps equal one of mine. Still, she’s a surprisingly fast little thing.
I run behind her and tell myself that I let her win. Her huge smile is reward enough for me and brightens my day in ways I’ll never be able to explain. How does her smile make everything okay? I don’t know, but somehow it does.
Brit sits down at her small table and chairs, perched in a corner of the kitchen. She’s playing with a handful of raw spaghetti noodles.
“Big helper,” she tells me proudly.
“She’s been helping me cook dinner.” Mom smiles and winks as she stirs the spaghetti sauce.
“How can I help, Mom?”
“You can make the garlic bread.”
I grab the loaf of French bread, cut it lengthwise and begin to spread the butter. “Jace just arrived home,” I tell Mom.
I notice the way she stills for just a moment. “Oh?”
“Yep. Irene will be happy.”
“Yes, she will. Are you happy about it, Shay?”
“Um, I’m not sure how I feel about it.” I’m a mixed bag of emotions.
There’s a three year age difference between Jace and me. That’s nothing in the scheme of things. However, when we were in high school, it seemed like a huge abyss. Once Jace graduated, he had plans to attend college at NYU—and he did it, receiving a full ride scholarship. When he left, it could’ve been the end of us and maybe it should’ve been. Instead we held on to our relationship with tightly gripped fists. He went off to college with hefty promises between us, ones that we were probably much too young to keep. Regardless, I promised I would join him at NYU as soon as I graduated from high school. My mom had saved a huge chunk of dad’s life insurance money just for the education of her children, so NYU was not out of my reach—as long as I kept my grades up and was accepted.
“Will you see him while he’s home?” Mom asks, tasting the sauce and adding seasonings. The smell is heavenly.
“I’m afraid I won’t be able to avoid him since he’s across the street.” I know that’s not what she meant. But I don’t have an honest answer to her question. Not yet, anyway.
Before Jace left for college, we had several frank discussions and our plans all revolved around us being together, of spending our lives with each other. It was that serious.
Summers were the best. He came home for each break and we renewed our fervent relationship. At the end of every summer I promised to join him after I graduated from high school.
We looked forward to that time and daydreamed of it as if it was the answer to happiness. It was a done deal. I never doubted that he was the one for me. Not once. Another boy never caught my eye and I never dated anyone else. It was always Jace for me.
Until it wasn’t.
He devastated me. He ruined me. I’ve never gotten over it.
Blah, blah, blah. Same old story. I’m sure everyone else saw it coming a mile away. Boy meets girl. They fall in love. Boy leaves. Girl promises to follow. Boy meets someone new. Girl is shattered.
Cue the violin music. The whole scenario played out like a poorly written TV movie. Too bad it wasn’t fiction.
Instead it was my actual life. Live and unplugged.
I didn’t expect Jace to stray. Never in a million years. Technically we weren’t engaged yet. But there is no doubt that we were promised to each other. We had plans to marry in the near future. An engagement would’ve simply been a formality.
None of our plans ever came to fruition. Boo. I wish I could stop thinking about him.
“Whoa, that’s enough garlic powder, Shay.”
“Oh, sorry, Mom. My thoughts were wandering.”
Seriously, I need to get ahold of myself.
LATER THAT NIGHT, after Brit is tucked into bed and sound asleep, I find myself tossing and turning in my own bed, wishing I could sleep like my content daughter. All I can think about is Jace’s close proximity. I have to learn to live my life with him nearby. I already know it’s not going to be an easy task. I feel as though we are calling to each other through some sort of silent telepathy.
My imagination is on overdrive and I can’t seem to control it.
Five AM arrives much too quickly. With circles under my eyes, I pick myself up and make my way to the bakery for another long day. Thank goodness I love my job. There’s such a sense of pride in starting my own business—and being successful at it.
I find myself distracted all day—with good reason. Mrs. Myers, one of my old high school teachers, comes in to buy a loaf of gluten-free bread.
“Jace is back in town. I saw him at the grocery store with his mother this morning,” she tells me. “A fine young man.”
“Oh?” I say. “Is he home?” I feign indifference and feel as though I succeed, but there’s something about the way she looks at me that tells me I failed.
“Yes, and he’s staying with his mother just across the street from you.”
“I’m so busy, who has time to look out the window?”
Me. I can’t seem to stay away either. My nose has left an embarrassing smudge on the glass.
Mrs. Myers pays and tells me to say hello to Jace for her. I guess she sees right through me. I get an F in nonchalance.
Mrs. Rogers, who has worked at the local deli for as long as I can remember, stops in to buy a dozen gluten and sugar-free brownies for her grandkids.
“Guess who stopped in to the deli today? Jace Faraday and his mother. He’s so good to her. He’s looking mighty handsome too. That one’s a looker, he always has been. Have you seen him?”
“Who?” I act like I don’t know who he is. I fool no one. “Oh, Jace. Of course, I vaguely remember him. No, I haven’t seen him for years.”
Her expression turns puzzled. “I thought the two of you were an item for a while there.”
I scoff. “It was such a long time ago. My memories are foggy.” My acting abilities leave a lot to be desired.
While I’m stocking the front display case with sugar-free cookies, I notice the man of the hour himself standing outside with Irene’s arm tucked firmly at his elbow. She must be having a good day. She rarely goes out and about. Fighting cancer usually leaves her knocked flat in her bed.
They’re across the street from the bakery and he’s staring at my place of business as if he’s contemplating coming inside. Dang, he looks good dressed down in jeans and a t-shirt. Mrs. Rogers was right. He’s just as handsome as ever. The thou
ght of facing him makes me drop my cookie sheet and waste the last four cookies that were on it.
When they walk on, my hands stop shaking. Thank goodness. I’m not prepared to see him.
I spend the rest of the afternoon hiding out in the kitchen. I have three orders for gluten, sugar, and dairy-free cakes to fulfill. Plus, I need another one for the display case. I let my hired help handle the storefront. Jace is on the prowl and I’m being a coward.
Don’t I know it.
Does everyone in this small town know I still love Jace Faraday? Is it obvious? Do I have it tattooed on my forehead or something?
Maybe CHEATER should be tattooed on his forehead. It would only be fair. That way every busybody in town would understand why I don’t want to see him.
I cried in my mother’s arms after I found out there was someone else in Jace’s life. I cried and cried and cried. Then cried some more. I couldn’t be consoled.
I’ve never told Mom what really happened. I’ve never told anyone what really happened. Some things are not meant to be uttered aloud and what I witnessed is one of those things. The experience is still vivid in my mind, as if it happened yesterday. And yet I can’t bring myself to talk about it. I know it would help release some of the trauma it instilled within me. I know it would help me let it go. But it was by far one of the worst moments of my life and it changed me forever. It was the moment I changed from a girl to a woman, the moment when all of my fanciful hopes and dreams died. It was the moment I learned that life was not all flowers and roses. It could throw hard knocks at you. Mercilessly. My eyes were suddenly opened.
It was also the moment I realized it was up to me to get back up and keep going—no one was going to do it for me. It’s the moment I realized what the word endure meant. Life is meant to be faced and curling up in a corner and crying was not the answer. I found out I was made of sterner stuff than I had ever imagined.
Okay, I admit my stern stuff vanished for a while. I lost it while married to Asher. While Jace is the love of my life, Asher is the mistake of my life.