Poison & Wine - Melissa Toppen Page 0,2

a daughter and I have no intention of telling him. Ellie is my life, my present. Jace is my past. If I have anything to say about it, the two will never intertwine.

Me: We’ve been through this. I can handle this. You have to trust me.

Keira: I do trust you. But I feel like you’re playing with fire.

Me: I have to go. Don’t worry. Everything will be fine. Talk later.

I lock my phone, ignoring her reply message as I drop the device back into my purse.

Her fears are not without warrant. And while I know the Jace I left behind doesn’t deserve to have me here, I feel like I owe it to the boy he used to be. The boy I’ve loved since I was ten years old. Because I want him to get clean. I want him to be better. And I know his track record isn’t great, but this is the first time he’s contacted me. Maybe this time is different. Maybe this time he really means it. And isn’t that what I’ve wanted for all these years? To not have to worry about getting that phone call. To not have to attend his funeral and bury the person who once held my future.

“Miss Pierson.” I look up when a dark skinned, middle aged woman enters the room. She’s wearing a muted purple pantsuit, her dark hair tied back from her face.

“Yes,” I croak, my voice suddenly hoarse.

“He’s ready for you.”

Chapter Two

OAKLEY

Nine years ago

* * *

The sky is dark, the moon hidden behind thick clouds blocking out every star from view. I’m lying on my back in the unfinished treehouse in my backyard. The one my father started years ago but never completed in his rush to leave. It has a floor and three walls, with the fourth completely open to the wooded area behind my house, and there is no ceiling. It’s sits about fifteen feet in the air, and instead of a ladder, there are wood planks nailed into the tree for steps.

It’s not the sturdiest thing in the world, but over the years it has become my sanctuary. The place I go when I want to be alone. It’s also where Jace likes to hide out when his dad’s been drinking. Most of the time when I come up here, I do in hopes of finding him here.

He’s been my closest friend since he moved into the house at the end of my street nearly four years ago. And while I love him like he’s family, those feelings have started to take on a new meaning recently.

“Oak.” I prop up on my elbows when I hear Jace’s voice.

I knew he’d come here tonight. As of late, he’s up here more times than he’s not. And as happy as that makes me because I get to spend time with him, I also hate what it means. That his dad is on another tirade.

Preston Matthews is not a good man. I learned that pretty early on. And I hate that Jace has to live with him. It’s no wonder why his mom left or why his brother, Tommy, took off the first chance he got. I just wish they hadn’t left Jace all alone with that monster.

And while my home life isn’t great—my mother treats me and the twins more like nuisances than her children—at least I don’t have to be afraid to go home.

“Hey.” I smile at him when his messy brown mop comes into view.

Jace is changing. When I first met him he was a scrawny thing, but he’s filled out since then and grown several inches. His voice is changing too. I swear it gets deeper every time I hear him talk.

“Hey.” He hoists himself up into the treehouse before crawling onto the blanket I have sprawled out on the floor.

He lays back, tucking his hands underneath his head as he stares up at the sky. The small camping lamp I took from the garage offers just enough light that I can see the bruise forming right below his left eye. I cringe at the sight.

“Everything okay?” I ask, lying back down, my face turned in his direction.

“Yeah.” He blows out a heavy breath. “Dad was in a real mood tonight.”

I want to ask him why he doesn’t report him. Why he continues to let him get away with this. But after the tenth time of suggesting it, and Jace never wavering in his response, I’ve kept such thoughts to myself. He doesn’t