Where There's a Will (Lost Boys, #1)

by Jessie Walker

For those who didn’t make it ’til morning.

Grief was like a fever, she said. I just had to let it run its course. Sweat it out, just sweat it out, baby.

There’s only so much time a person’s allowed to grieve before it becomes an inconvenience, I’ve come to learn.

Grief is a bitch like that. Taking all that was once good, it cuts through like a knife—leaving a scar that is vile and ugly and permanent.

I don’t want to be sad anymore.

But then, it’s over. He’s squeezing his eyes shut, and time’s speeding up, and I’m no longer the center of his fucking world. And it hurts. It hurts. How does it fucking hurt this bad?

And there’s this boy—this beautiful, raven-haired boy with eyes like a sunlit forest—staring back at me as if he’s seconds from diving into the water to reach me.

And this moment—this chance—it’s nothing but a wish upon the stars for something that will never be. Not when that boy who is now nearly a man is staring back at me as if it would make no difference if I drowned and lost myself to the sea.

Making music is like that for us. Mason, Shawn, and me. It’s what ties us together. This affliction. When everything gets to be too much—when that insatiable beast inside each one of us demands to be fed—we have no choice but to drop everything and listen to it. Cater to its demands until we’ve successfully sweated it out. Purged what ails us in messy scrawls and broken melodies, until we’re left bleary-eyed and chest-ravaged.

It’s the only way to quiet the voices. Our demons. Even if the peace never lasts for long.

We all do what we can to keep going every day; that’s life for you. Let us have our vices and kindly shut the fuck up.

“Will and Way. We’re a team. Always.” A single nod. A firm squeeze of my pinky. Then a whisper, a promise⁠— “Always.”

“How am I looking at you?” he says calmly. Like you see right fucking through me. Like it kills you. Like I’m some damsel who needs saving by the big, strong prince.

“Straight isn’t the default, even if the rest of the world hasn’t caught up yet.”

I can’t talk about the frizzy-haired girl I knew since I was in diapers. The girl who opened my eyes to make-believe lands where monsters could be slayed, and dreams could be reached with the flick of a hand. The girl who would one day introduce me to the boy standing in front of me who made me believe just for a second that happily-ever-afters could be found outside of books. This boy who’s now nearly a man, and represents everything I never wanted to face.

Those people clearly don’t know what it means to be the only one left standing when the world around you crumbles.

“The sun will always rise again.” I shrug. “You just need to make it through the night. Take it day by day—moment by moment if you need to—until you reach the other side. Nothing lasts forever.”

Will. A boy. A man. He’s a strong, steady presence, and I suddenly want nothing more than to know what his touch feels like everywhere.

It would literally take nothing at all for me to swoop forward and crush his mouth with mine. Claim him, the first and only boy I’ve ever kissed. The only one I ever wanted to kiss.

I always miss him when he’s not around. Like I’m missing a limb or something. It’s stupid, but it is what it is.

can’t pinpoint what it is, but this is not the Waylon I know. This isn’t my best friend. This isn’t my Grumpy Bear. This isn’t my Way.

“I thought he’d kill you if you knew the truth,” he whispers. “I thought he’d kill us both. So yeah, I fucking lied. Happy?” No, Waylon. I’m the furthest thing from happy right now.

Waylon watches me with what can only be described as helpless wonder. He has no idea what to do with me, and that’s fine by me. I don’t really know what to do with him either. But tonight’s not the night to try and figure that out. Tonight’s about having fun. Tonight’s about forgetting.

Waylon’s bright green-gold eyes find mine. His dimples are on full display as we grin big stupid grins, and sing our way through the bridge of my favorite Rolling Stones song. This is what I came back for. Not for answers. Not for closure. I came back to remember what it was like to be happy. To be whole.

“When you’re sad, nothing else really matters anymore.”

“You just need to find a way to make it through the night. It won’t be dark forever.”

“Because in the end, the only thing we have to fear in the dark are the things we run from in the light of day.”

Somewhere in the back of my head, more warning bells go off, but I pay them no notice. How can I when I finally know what it’s like to kiss Waylon, really kiss Waylon? How can I possibly listen to reason right now?

“Stop me,” I tell him gravelly, bitterly, desperately, “because I fucking can’t.”

“I hate you.” If this is hate, baby, I think, licking across his teeth, I don’t know if I’d survive your love.

“Please don’t hate me,” I murmur against his lips. The last thing I recall. And then, against mine, just as sleep drags me under, I feel, “I’m sorry.”

“Hate me all you want, but I’m here, okay?” he says in a low rumble next to my ear. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Where there’s a will, there’s a way, right?” he says simply. His mouth ticks up. “It made me laugh thinking about it. I couldn’t get the words out of my head after that. They just kept playing on this...endless, delirium-ridden loop. Like a song stuck in my head on repeat. I just kept thinking how it was a play on our names, and it just...it hit me.”

All I know is that today, I made the decision to let him go once and for all. And Waylon stopped me.

“Don’t let that asshole win.” The problem is... I’m not sure I’m strong enough yet to beat him.

I am drowning. Drowning in overwhelming want for this guy. This fucking guy who just told me I was once his everything, when I was sure I was only ever his nothing.

Cheeks flushed, Waylon shrugs and spreads his hands as if daring me to stake my claim. As if to say, Is this what you want? My mouth crooks up wickedly. Baby, you’ve no fucking clue. He arches a knowing, challenging brow. “Show me, City Boy.”

I like that he smells like me. I like the smell of us combined.

Every doubt, every fear, every goddamn denial I’ve piled over my shoulders for years and years⁠— He just takes it all and shatters it. Shatters me.

“Always remember this instead, ’kay?” “Will and Way. We’re a team. Always.” My eyes flutter shut, and I hug him tight... I whisper, “Always.” ...hoping this time, it’s a promise I can keep.

In a voice so low I have to strain to hear him, he says, “It’s always quieter when I’m with you.” Jesus fuck, this guy.

But this is Waylon, and I’ve never been known to keep my word when it comes to him. He is, and has always been, my one exception.

This damaged, drive-me-fucking-insane boy who’s managed to find all those pieces of my heart he broke years ago, and fit them back together. Like it was nothing at all.

I’m laughing, and my cousin’s smiling. The sun’s out, and the birds are up, and I just told someone for the first time in my life out loud that I kissed a boy. And guess what? The world didn’t come crashing down around me. Maybe it’s all not as hopeless as I thought.

Not the guy behind me, who makes me want to stop running. Stop hiding. Stop chasing the bottom of a bottle. The guy who makes me want to fight—who makes me believe I stand a chance. The person who makes me want to stay, when there’s no guarantee that one day, when I go to reach for him, I won’t just find empty air.