Page 39 of Born Reckless

"They couldn't identify her," I continue with a thick throat. "She had no ID on her, her fingerprints didn't pull up anywhere in the system. They put her picture up hoping that someone could identify her, but no one came forward. But they ran her DNA and my DNA and proved that she was my mother. They declared her a Jane Doe."

Mason makes a small sound, one that says he finally understands why my last name is Doe.

"They tried searching for my father for months. But how do you look for someone under those circumstances? They had no leads. They had no name. And I was just a baby, an infant. So, after a few months, they gave up. But they always left the possibility open that I might be claimed. I couldn’t be placed with an adoptive family. I went into foster care."

I turn away from the balcony and go to sit on one of the massive chairs. Mason stays quiet as he turns as well and sits beside me. I tuck my knees up into my chest and wrap my arms around them.

"They bounced me around quite a bit until I was eight years old. And then I lived with this old lady until I was sixteen. She wasn't one of those nice old ladies who likes to make cookies and sing you lullabies to fall asleep. She was the kind that liked to sit on the porch of her trailer and smoke two packs a day. She was the kind that liked to buy frozen packaged meals and toss them in my direction every night to make for myself. And she always had these horrible men that came and went. That place was such a shit hole. She didn't work, so the only income she had was the check the state sent her every month for taking care of me. We were trailer trash. We were in a decent school district, so I can be grateful for that at least. I got a good education. But I was trash there. Like, literal trash. Everyone knew that I was the foster kid. The kid who was found with the dead mother. No one…" I shake my head. The hurt still lives there, even if I try to redirect it into sarcasm and toughness. "No one ever cared about me. I could have disappeared and no one at my school would have even noticed."

"Juliet," Mason says softly. There's grief in his voice, regret. But what does he have to regret? It's not like he's ever done anything wrong.

I shake my head. "My birthday is in November, so I wouldn't have been very far into my senior year when I turned eighteen, and I swore I was getting the hell out of there as soon as I could. So, I worked during the summers to get all the credits I needed to graduate early. I worked eight hours a day, and then I did my schoolwork. There was no goofing off with friends, there was no dating or boyfriends. All I had was me. All I could depend on was me."

Mason takes one of my hands and pulls it into his chest. But he doesn't stop me. Now that I've started, I need to get all of it out of me.

"The day I turned eighteen, I grabbed my bags. I’d had them packed for a week. And I got in my car, even though it was a piece of garbage. And I literally just started driving." The old woman who I lived with for so long died when I was sixteen. After her, I was put into a group home. It was an actual house that we lived in, but it was a rotating staff of adults who came through to take care of us. We were seen as troublemakers. As the kids that no one wanted. "I ended up driving north. I got all the way to Pennsylvania before my car died. The engine started smoking so I pulled over on the side of the road and got out. I grabbed my bags out of the back just as it lit on fire."

It felt like a metaphor. The thing was a piece of crap. And now that crap was on fire.

I took it as a sign that things could only get better from there. Set the past on fire, move on to the future.

"I got lucky. There was a major train station only a mile from that," I continue my story. "I didn't dare spend much money, so I bought the first train ticket that only cost ten dollars. And that train took me straight to New York City."

The day I stepped off that train into that city was the best day of my life. I remember looking around at all the people, all the buildings, all the lights, and I felt like a new person. Here, no one knew who I was. No one knew that I was trailer trash. No one knew that I was the daughter of a Jane Doe.

"It was a new start," I say. "I mean, it was hard. It was really, really hard. New York City is damn expensive. And I was barely eighteen. I had been saving up since I was fourteen, but money only goes so far in that city. I got a job, I found an apartment with roommates who I thought onlymightkill me at night. But I made it work. I kept my head low, and I started learning how normal people live."

I'm not normal. I'm well aware of this. I'm not good with people, and I don't trust anyone, really.

But I'm trying. I'm working on it.

"Medical school was so hard to get into,” I say. “My grades weren’t perfect in high school. So, I started out at the community college level and worked my way up.” I was balancing two jobs and school, but it wasn’t enough. I started taking on student loans, but the weight of it hanging over my head felt crushing. “But I wanted to prove to everyone who never cared about me that I could be something. That I wasn’t just trash. People don’t look at you like you’re trash when you’re a doctor.”

Grief strikes me hard now. It’s been my dream for years. I’ve worked so, so hard to make this a reality. And now… I’m grateful that Dr. Vincent is willing to take me on and eventually employ me as a doctor.

But it’s just not the same.

“And then I met Elena," I say. Emotion cracks my voice. "She had just as little intolerance for idiots as I did. She didn't trust anyone either. Something just felt different with her. It was like I had met my soulmate, except I wasn't in love with her, and she wasn't in love with me either."

I shake my head and let my gaze fall into my lap.

Gently, I feel Mason's hand caress the side of my face. He encourages me to look up, and I meet his gaze.

"It's not fair, any of it," Mason says. His voice is soft and calm. But his eyes are not. They burn with the intensity of what he's saying. "You've had the odds stacked against you from the beginning, Juliet. By the statistics, you should be in jail. Or homeless. Or maybe even dead. But you're not. You're not any of those things. You're here, and I can guarantee you that life is about to be a whole lot different for you. And that's not just because of Elena."

I had this conversation with myself once upon a time. I’ve read enough books to worry that this might happen to me. That I might take too quickly, too easily to anyone who might show me some kindness. I had told myself to not open my heart too quickly to someone who was simply a decent human being to me.

I'm still cautious. But looking up at Mason, I think I'm getting a glimpse of what normal people experience.

"You're never going to go back to that person," he says softly. His blue eyes remain fixed on mine, so wholesome and filled with so much conviction. "That person who was always alone. That person who only ever had one other human in this whole world that they trusted, that they could rely on. No matter what happens betweenus, Juliet, I swear, I'm always going to be here. I will always be your friend."

And something cracks inside of me. Emotions claw at the back of my eyes.

Because this isn't just about the physical aspect. This isn't just about trying to be in some kind of a secret relationship. Mason just offered the words that mean more to me than any of that could mean.

I will always be your friend.

"This place is meant for you, Juliet," Mason says. He brushes his thumb over my cheek. "This place is for the rejected, the abandoned. Chicago is for those who never fit in. Chicago is for those who are not like others. Juliet," Mason pulls me closer by the back of my neck and touches his forehead to mine, "Chicago is your home now. Here, you are going to find your family."