Jay McLean

Pieces of Me

i didn't sleep just to finish this angsty jem

este me pegó más que el primero 😃👍

Jamie, mí tesoro, preciosa, hermosa, la amo tanto, mí artista fav 

Maggie y big H(Holden) se merecen el mundo 

ya dije que me llore la vida ? pues es verdad 

🏹 Because nothing has changed in the past five years. I loved you then, I love you now, and I’ve loved you every single day in between.

🏹 I shake my head, watching the boy I love be everything I love about him. “I’ve missed you.”

“Good,” he states. “Because I was barely breathing without you, Jamie.”

🏹 “I love it here, and I love you and Maggie and your dad, and this place, and I thought... I thought I could face your mom, and I’d be okay, but I saw her, and all I could see was him... lying dead in front of me, and fuck, Holden, I never wanted you to see me like this!” she cries. “I’ve worked so fucking hard to fight this shit, and you were never supposed to—”

I take her face in my hands, forcing her to stop. “Marry me.”

I repeat the words I’ve held on to since I asked her out on one date. “Marry me.”

She shakes her head in my grasp, a new set of tears coating her eyes. “Holden, you can’t just ask me to marry you to prove—”

“Prove what? That my love for you is unconditional?” I scoff. “That’s bullshit. What do you think a wedding is? Why do you think people spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on them? So two people can stand in front of a bunch of family and friends to prove their love.”

🏹 taking her hand and dragging her ass into the house. I move us to the kitchen, where I release her hand only to reach up to the corner of the top cabinet where I knew she’d never look. I pull out a velvet jewelry bag that’s been there since before our date. “Here,” I say, pointing to the dozen rings I just casually dumped on the wooden countertop. “Take your pick.”

🏹 I watch her face, looking for even a hint of expression that isn’t shock. “After I left you at Esme’s, I swore to myself that if you came here, I would never let you go again. So the day after I got back, I was hanging out with Benny in his room, and I was on my phone, distracted, looking at engagement rings for you. They were all generic diamond rings, and none of them were you, Jamie, because you—you’re far from generic.”

Her eyes lift, lock on mine, and I still can’t tell what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling. 

“Benny saw my phone and asked what I was doing, and I told him. I told him I wanted to ask you to marry me and that I was looking for a ring, but I couldn’t find anything suitable. So, he gave me all these gems,” I say, pointing to the rings. “And these gems, these rocks … they were you, Jamie. They were unique and quirky and beautiful.” I reach up, smooth some hair from her eyes. “I took them to Peg—Jimmy, and he made them into rings with old silverware.” I pick up one that was clearly a fork prong. “See?” I show her, and she nods. “Before you came back to me, I had planned on asking you,” I rush out. “I was just waiting for the right time, and maybe this isn’t it, but all I’ve done is wait. I waited… and I waited, and I’ve gotten nowhere and, shit! I’m doing it wrong.” I pick a random ring from the pile and take her hand in mine. And then I give myself a moment to breathe. To gather my thoughts. My words. And then I get down on one knee. “Jamie,” I start, looking up at her. Begging. Praying. “When we were sitting poolside at Esme’s, you told me that we’d both grown up, and we have. And growth is good, and I swear to God, I hope we grow old together, right here, surrounded by daisies and dahlias and moments and memories, and kids—if you want them—and—”

“Yes, Holden!” she laughs out. “Oh my god, yes!”

I’m so quick to get up, to hug her around the waist, lift her off her feet, and spin her around. And I make a promise to myself that no matter what happens between us, I’ll never again forget the sound I’m currently soaking in—the sound of her laughter

🏹 “The weirdest thing happened,” she says, leaning into my side. “I woke up when you left, and I felt these rings on my fingers, and I remembered…”

“And then I just…” She shrugs, facing the wall again. “I had this need to draw, so I thought… I hope it’s okay I drew on your wall.”

“Our wall,” I remind her, my gaze dropping to the marker in her hand. God, I missed watching how her hands moved when she drew—fluid, expert, hot. 

shar

i didn't sleep just to finish this angsty jem

este me pegó más que el primero 😃👍

me llore la vida

la vida mí gordo 
( mí gordo = Holden )

Jamie, mí tesoro, preciosa, hermosa, la amo tanto, mí artista fav 

Maggie y big H(Holden) se merecen el mundo 

Tammy y el marido diuj 

mía ? mí chiquita 


ya dije que me llore la vida ? pues es verdad 

🏹 Because nothing has changed in the past five years. I loved you then, I love you now, and I’ve loved you every single day in between.

🏹 I shake my head, watching the boy I love be everything I love about him. “I’ve missed you.”

“Yeah?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

I nod. 

“Good,” he states. “Because I was barely breathing without you, Jamie.”

🏹 “I love it here, and I love you and Maggie and your dad, and this place, and I thought... I thought I could face your mom, and I’d be okay, but I saw her, and all I could see was him... lying dead in front of me, and fuck, Holden, I never wanted you to see me like this!” she cries. “I’ve worked so fucking hard to fight this shit, and you were never supposed to—”

I take her face in my hands, forcing her to stop. “Marry me.”

“What?”

I repeat the words I’ve held on to since I asked her out on one date. “Marry me.”

She shakes her head in my grasp, a new set of tears coating her eyes. “Holden, you can’t just ask me to marry you to prove—”

“Prove what? That my love for you is unconditional?” I scoff. “That’s bullshit. What do you think a wedding is? Why do you think people spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on them? So two people can stand in front of a bunch of family and friends to prove their love.”

🏹 taking her hand and dragging her ass into the house. I move us to the kitchen, where I release her hand only to reach up to the corner of the top cabinet where I knew she’d never look. I pull out a velvet jewelry bag that’s been there since before our date. “Here,” I say, pointing to the dozen rings I just casually dumped on the wooden countertop. “Take your pick.”

🏹 I watch her face, looking for even a hint of expression that isn’t shock. “After I left you at Esme’s, I swore to myself that if you came here, I would never let you go again. So the day after I got back, I was hanging out with Benny in his room, and I was on my phone, distracted, looking at engagement rings for you. They were all generic diamond rings, and none of them were you, Jamie, because you—you’re far from generic.”

Her eyes lift, lock on mine, and I still can’t tell what she’s thinking, what she’s feeling. 

“Benny saw my phone and asked what I was doing, and I told him. I told him I wanted to ask you to marry me and that I was looking for a ring, but I couldn’t find anything suitable. So, he gave me all these gems,” I say, pointing to the rings. “And these gems, these rocks … they were you, Jamie. They were unique and quirky and beautiful.” I reach up, smooth some hair from her eyes. “I took them to Peg—Jimmy, and he made them into rings with old silverware.” I pick up one that was clearly a fork prong. “See?” I show her, and she nods. “Before you came back to me, I had planned on asking you,” I rush out. “I was just waiting for the right time, and maybe this isn’t it, but all I’ve done is wait. I waited… and I waited, and I’ve gotten nowhere and, shit! I’m doing it wrong.” I pick a random ring from the pile and take her hand in mine. And then I give myself a moment to breathe. To gather my thoughts. My words. And then I get down on one knee. “Jamie,” I start, looking up at her. Begging. Praying. “When we were sitting poolside at Esme’s, you told me that we’d both grown up, and we have. And growth is good, and I swear to God, I hope we grow old together, right here, surrounded by daisies and dahlias and moments and memories, and kids—if you want them—and—”

“Yes.”

My heart stops. “Yes?”

“Yes, Holden!” she laughs out. “Oh my god, yes!”

I’m so quick to get up, to hug her around the waist, lift her off her feet, and spin her around. And I make a promise to myself that no matter what happens between us, I’ll never again forget the sound I’m currently soaking in—the sound of her laughter

🏹 “The weirdest thing happened,” she says, leaning into my side. “I woke up when you left, and I felt these rings on my fingers, and I remembered…”

I face her, unable to control my grin. 

“We’re engaged, Holden.”

“We are…” I laugh out.

“And then I just…” She shrugs, facing the wall again. “I had this need to draw, so I thought… I hope it’s okay I drew on your wall.”

“Our wall,” I remind her, my gaze dropping to the marker in her hand. God, I missed watching how her hands moved when she drew—fluid, expert, hot. 

“Maybe I can do a mural or something in here,” she ponders. “Daisies and dahlias…”

I take her hand in my mine, move it toward the wall, and guide her into doing what speaks to my heart. She starts drawing, the tiny bones in her hands shifting the muscles there, and with every movement, every stroke, I feel the weight of the past twenty-four hours lift from my shoulders until the only thoughts in my head are the ones of the girl beside me. She starts with the stem first and then the leaves of a dahlia. For minutes, she works on a single leaf, perfecting it, so focused on her task while I focus on her. “Do you think your mom would’ve liked me?” I ask.

She falters a moment before moving to another leaf. “She would’ve loved you.”

“What makes you so sure?”

“Because you’re twenty-three years old and sitting in a blanket fort with me right now.” She drops her hand and turns to me. “And you’re not doing it just because you love me. Or because you want to make me happy. You’re doing it because you know what these little childish acts mean to me, and not only do you support me, but you encourage me to take back what’s owed to me… to Younger Me.” Her voice cracks, and she looks away, returns to drawing. “She would recognize that in you, Holden, and she would appreciate it.”

I sit back and settle in, trying to fight back a prideful smile.

🏹 Jamie stands in front of Mags and Dad with both her hands raised between them, showing off the dozen rings on her fingers. She says she can’t pick just one, so for now, she’s going to wear them all. 



TE AMO JAMIEE


🏹 Because I love you, Jamie, and I want this to mean as much to you as it does to me. I could say all those words out loud, but they wouldn’t come close to how I felt. So, instead, I stand beside her, slowly lower my hand, and I watch with bated breath as her eyes flutter open, then widen, then take in everything all at once. 

🏹 Dahlias. 

Goosebumps prick along my flesh, sending a shiver up my spine. 

I can feel her here... my mother, Dahlia, watching me, and just like the thousands of daisies surrounding me, she coats me in her warmth. 

It doesn’t take long for the tears to build, and I can’t for the life of me move, not even enough to wipe them away so I can see it all again.

I can’t speak. 

I can barely breathe. 

All I can do is stand still, blinking, blinking, letting tear after tear flow down my cheeks. 

Next to me, Holden makes a sound, and I can hardly hear him over the pulse pounding in my ears. “I planted the seeds the summer after you left,” he says, and I choke on a gasp, my mind spinning, my heart beating against my ribcage. “I figured one day, you’d be back, and I wanted to have it ready for you when you did. That day when I took you out to the daisy field, I could see in your face how much you loved it, and I remember thinking that I could give you an entire field full of daisies. It’s not a field, but I thought…” he trails off, and I finally face him, my breaths loud, harsh against the stillness around us. 

🏹 His gaze trails to mine before he reaches up, wiping the endless tears away. “We used to host weddings here. My parents got married here.” His voice cracks with his own emotion, and then he takes my hand, unfurling my fingers from around the pendant. He slips the key beside it, saying, “I made it for you, Jamie. It’s yours.” 

I shudder an inhale—the first sound I’ve made since opening my eyes—eyes that are now right on his. 

He steps toward me, his hands still shaking as he slips them around my waist, holding me to him. “I guess it’s my way of saying that I never gave up on us either.”


🏹 He pulls me down until I’m sitting sideways on his lap, my arm going around his neck to keep me steady. Brushing the loose hair from my eyes, Holden asks, almost begging, “Please say something… I’m kind of freaking out here.”

My exhale is long, drawn-out, and audible, and when my tear-filled eyes finally meet his again, the only thing I can think to say is, “Consider me wooed.”

He kisses me. Soft and gentle. And it’s not like our first kiss—when he’d swooped me in his arms after I’d just gotten out of the shower. That kiss was driven by nothing more than intrigue and desire. 

This kiss… 

This kiss feels like the fulfillment of hopeless wishes whispered into the darkness. 

This kiss feels like a first…

A first that could last forever.

🏹 Swear it, he actually humphs. Right before he takes my coffee from me and throws it across his yard, mug and all. Then he reaches down, sweeping my legs up and over him while lifting me onto his lap. He hugs me tight, and he still has that just-out-from-under-the-covers heat radiating off him. I nestle in while he mumbles into my neck, “I thought you’d left.”

My stomach sinks. I wasn’t thinking, too busy caught up in my own head, my own emotions. “Aww, baby. I’m sorry.” I run my hands through his hair, try to soothe him. 

He rears back. “Did you just call me baby?”

I nod. “Is that weird?”

“No.” His grin is ridiculous. “I like it.”

Hoping to lift his mood, I say, “I just thought baby suited you since you’re acting like a giant one.”

“Shut up,” he laughs out, pressing his mouth to mine. I can taste the toothpaste on his lips but can barely feel the touch. 

“Is your mouth numb?” I ask, breaking the kiss.

He laughs, nodding once while he relaxes his hold on me. “I can barely feel it.”

🏹 “I love you, Jameson Taylor.” And before I know what’s happening, he’s standing on the booth, cupping his hands around his mouth and yelling, “Hey, everyone!”

It’s a Friday morning, and there are only three other people here: an elderly couple and a guy I’m almost positive drives the huge eighteen-wheeler in the parking lot. Still, I get up, try to pull him down by his t-shirt. “Holden, stop!”

He doesn’t. “Y’all see this amazingly beautiful, and talented, and smart, and extraordinary girl right here?” he shouts, pointing down at me. “I’m insanely in love with her!” Then he mock-glares at the older man a few tables over. “You keep your hands off her, Mr. Greeley,” he jokes. “Yeah, I’ve seen pictures of Mrs. Greeley back in the day.” He winks at the man as his wife giggles. “You ladykiller, you.” 

“Stop!” I laugh out, tugging on his arm. “Get down!”

This time, he does as I ask and settles back in his seat. 

“You’re such an idiot,” I tell him. 

Emilie Adele Rognmo

the only word i can use to describe this book is; beautiful. it’s just beautiful. 

jamie, you’re so extraordinary and i love you to pieces. 
holden, you’re a little shit but i love you regardless.
jamieholden, what a fucking journey. 

and jamie being a swiftie? yep. love story being their song? mhmm. the three loves of my life; books, taylor and jay mclean.

jay mclean makes me cry like no other. she makes her characters real, and that’s exactly how jamie and holden felt, real. i feel like i just experienced their whole relationship with them, all the ups and downs. my heart was breaking for them. and i don’t even want to talk about me sobbing my eyes out in the epilogue. beautiful. just beautiful.

i’ve said it before but i’ll say it again; reading a book by jay mclean feels like coming home. and i fucking missed my family.

Pieces of Me

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