Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

Jude

Present

Turning off the engine, I glance at her curled into a ball, fast asleep, in my passenger seat. Her heels are kicked off and my jacket is tucked beneath her chin, her chest rising and falling as she peacefully sleeps.

That wedding nearly killed me with the constant thought: what if this could’ve been us?

We should have made it down the aisle. If I’d made different choices, I never would have let her go. And if I ever get the chance to win her back, I swear I’ll do everything in my power to keep her this time.

At some point near the end of the reception, I saw a wave of anxiety wash over her. I have no idea if it was grief, or me, or something else entirely. All I knew is that I needed to help her feel better by getting the hell out of there .

For a moment, I contemplate sleeping in the car for an hour or so to let her rest before waking her up. I’m worried that as soon as she’s awake, she’ll bolt and return to the dark and depressing state of her parents’ house.

I decide the next best course of action is to carry her inside the house and lie her in the guest room that she slept in last night.

Opening the car door, I unbuckle her seatbelt, carefully sliding it out from under her arms. Then in one swift motion, I scoop her up. Her eyes flutter open for a moment, and she looks at me with those gorgeous green-brown eyes, trusting and peaceful, before closing them again. She nestles closer into my chest, and it’s like an arrow to my heart. Piercing me with a sense of adoration that’s once in a lifetime. I’m officially a goner—again—when it comes to her.

Inside, I fumble my way through the dark house to the guest room, and gently lie her down on the mattress. Tucking a blanket around her body, I push a strand of wayward hair out of her eyes. All I can do is stare in awe of how fucking breathtaking she is.

As I turn to leave, she grabs onto my wrist. “I need you,” she whispers.

My heart nearly stops at those words—the same ones I’ve dreamed of hearing for over a decade. ‘I need you’ is a big statement coming from someone who never asks for help.

Her small hand tugs me closer, a silent plea for me to stay .

“I’m here. I’m not going anywhere,” I rasp.

She watches as I unbutton my shirt, revealing a plain tee underneath, and step out of my dress pants. Without a word, she follows my lead, lifting her dress over her head and tossing it onto the armchair in the corner.

From the moonlight filtering into the room, I can make out the silhouette of her body—the gentle slope of her shoulders, the lace of her bra, and pinch of her waist. Every inch of her is more gorgeous than the last.

I slide into bed, and without hesitation, she turns her back to me, nestling into the curve of my body. Her small hand finds mine beneath the blanket, fingers intertwining as she guides our clasped hands across her bare skin, pulling me close. She wraps my arm around her body as if I’m the only thing anchoring her to this world.

“Thank you,” she says into the darkness. “For staying.”

“You don’t need to thank me.”

“I do. You’ve been patient throughout all of this—my grief and overthinking. I appreciate you putting up with it and being there for me.”

“There’s no ‘putting up with it.’ I’m here because I want to be. Because I’ll do literally anything for you.”

If life and second chances have taught me anything, it’s that love like this is rare and worth the sacrifice. Jobs and houses are a dime a dozen, but love that is the glue of your very being—that’s once in a lifetime. For Ella Thatcher, I’d give up everything. I’d sacrifice my job, my house, my very heart.

We lie in silence, my chin tucked into her hair, her backside to my pelvis, the coinciding thud of our heartbeats echoing off the others.

When I get to hold her like this, it’s as if everything in the world has shifted into the correct position. The days seem a little more manageable, and the future a little brighter, so long as I get to hold her in my arms at the end of the night.

Still wrapped in my arms, she spins around, positioning us face-to-face. “Hi,” she whispers, breathy, and it shoots straight to my dick.

“Hi, gorgeous.”

Her eyes dip to my lips and dart back up to my eyes. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Anything.”

“Have you ever thought about that summer? About us?”

“Every single fucking day,” I admit.

She stares at me trying to figure out if it’s the truth. And it without a doubt is. Life has been full of little reminders of her—working out and still wondering if she teaches the Pilates classes she always loved so much. Nineties music playing on the radio, that we knew all the words to. Every night, reading on the couch under the warm light of a lamp, wondering if she was doing the same up in Washington.

“Have you thought about me too?” I ask, needing to know. Hoping I’m not the only one that has thought about the other like crazy.

The wheels turning in her head seem audible as she tries to piece together an answer. “I tried not to. ”

“But you did?”

“More than I’d like to admit.” Through the dark, her fingers brush my cheekbone, trailing to the ends of my short-trimmed hair. “Tell me why you came back to Lawson. The real reason.”

“For you,” I murmur. It’s a confession I’ve never said aloud, but besides coming back for my family, it’s the truth. “I came back to make amends with you. To see if there was room in your life for me again in some capacity. But right as I was moving back, you were leaving with your boyfriend to Washington.”

“Well damn,” she sighs. “Timing has never been on our side, has it?”

“Can I kiss you?” The words escape before I can stop them.

It’s a bad idea. Yet, at this moment I’m blind to all the reasons why we shouldn’t. She’s my sole focus, and the urge to kiss her is overwhelming.

I feel her nod, pressing her body harder against mine. By now she can feel the effect she has on me—the same irresistible pull she’s always had.

My lips capture hers, soft and gentle, searching for the spark that ignited us years ago. And it’s as if our bodies, lips, and souls never skipped a beat. She opens her mouth, and that hunger is instantly rekindled, a fire that had smoldered for a decade, now roaring back to life. My hand cups her cheek, pulling her as close as humanly possible. I’m focused on every point of contact between us, the way her body molds to mine, like someone crafted us to specifically fit each other. My knee, wedged between her legs, as she grinds her pelvis against the contact. Her hands, all over my body, as if she’s making sure I’m real and not some version of a dream.

My thumb skims along a small patch of skin on her waist, and all I want is more. I have a feeling that I could feel up every fucking square inch of her for hours and still never grow tired of it.

I can feel how wet she’s getting as she moves herself along me. I press my thigh harder into her, and feel her mouth fall open against mine with a breathy whimper. Apparently, I’m a glutton for punishment, because I’ll never get that sound out of my head so long as I live.

Her hand tries to push past my briefs, but I grab her delicate wrist to stop her. “El.”

“I want you, Jude,” she says, arching her back, pressing into me.

My mouth finds its way to her neck, and I’m addicted to the way she squirms under my touch, pressing herself against my leg.

With my body aching and my self-control fraying, I stop and press my forehead to hers. “Fuck, I’ve got to stop,” I say, my voice strained. “As much as I’d give anything to keep going, we need to talk first.”

She stiffens, and I can feel the shift in her breath. “Isn’t that usually code for breaking up?” she murmurs, her words light but tinged with a nervous edge, like she’s masking real fear with a joke.

Grabbing her hand, I place it back on my briefs that are straining against the world’s most painful erection.

“Do you feel how much I want you? There’s no going back from that. This isn’t like that last summer. If we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it the right way, which is why we need to talk. The next time I fuck you, you’re going to be mine—only difference this time is I’m not letting you go.”

Without a word, I feel her finger trace the outline of the head of my cock, before she pulls her hand away with some sort of internal decision being made. Spinning back around, she nestles in against my chest, lying her cheek against my bicep.

With my lips against her head, I whisper into her hair. “I don’t think my heart could take being with you again only temporarily.”

She nods, understanding. “I get it. But Jude, I can’t help that I’m leaving.”

“I know, love. But I think we could still make it work.”

Taking my hand, she moves it across her body, so I’m holding her tight as if she’ll slip right out from under me. She opens and closes her mouth like she has more to say, but doesn’t let the words out.

“Tell me what you’re thinking. I can sense there’s more,” I tell her.

“I forgot that you know how to read me way too well,” she teases. “I was going to say that I want to be with you too. I don’t think I’ve ever stopped wanting to be with you. It’s just that the odds are stacked against us. Do you know of any long distance relationship that has ever thrived?”

I can’t think of even one. Out of everyone I know that has attempted one, their long distance relationships have failed miserably. Call me crazy, but I know we wouldn’t end that way. There’s this deep gut feeling that makes me confident we would be different from the rest.

“I’m not going to lie, I don’t know of any.” I kiss the top of her head. “But I do think we have the potential to be the exception.”

“But what exactly makes you so sure? You seem really confident about it, and I want to feel that way too.”

“Because I thought about you every day for ten long years without seeing you once. Because we’re both grown adults now, and miles better at communicating than we ever were. And because I’ve never felt this way about anyone before. It makes everything that came before feel insignificant.” I brush the hair back from her face, my lips grazing her temple. “You don’t have to decide right now. Just know, if you’re willing, I’m all in. Not just to keep messing around, but to make this real. To make it permanent.”

The offer is out there in the universe now. I don’t push her for an answer, but instead give her the space to mull it over. She’s never been the type to make rash decisions, and I respect that.

She turns to face me again, pressing her lips to mine. My hand instinctively finds her hip, and her fingers grasp the back of my neck, pulling me closer. “Thank you,” she breathes between kisses. For what, I’m not entirely sure. But whatever it is, I must have said something right, because instead of pulling away, she’s pulling me even closer.

I hold her in my arms all night, trying to commit every detail to memory. The comforting weight of her head on my chest, the way she nestles closer in her sleep like she needs me, our breaths syncing as the minutes tick by.

But despite the peace, a nagging thought tries to sour it all. I can’t help but think about how time is finicky, second chances aren’t promised, and forever is never guaranteed—even if you do fight like hell to hold onto it.

I roll over in bed the next morning, only to find the spot next to me empty.

She’s gone.

In a panic, my eyes scan the room as I sit up, my spine stiff with tension. Her dress still lies draped over the chair in the corner, but my jacket and her shoes are gone.

With my heart in my throat, I open the bedroom door only to find silence. No sound of coffee brewing, or the low murmur of the television. Only thick, heavy silence.

Is this how she felt when she woke up and found me gone? Now I’m getting a dose of my own medicine, and it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

With bare feet, I make my way down the hall, ears and eyes open for any signs of her. I tell myself that even if she left, it doesn’t necessarily mean this is the end for us. Maybe there’s another way I can prove that she can count on me.

The kitchen is empty. The lights are off. The bathroom door is open.

Rounding the corner to the living room, I stop dead in my tracks when I see her—on the back porch, curled up in my hoodie and a fuzzy blanket in the wooden rocking chair. She looks euphoric as she stares up at the sky, watching the sunrise. Dense clouds give way to a sky filled with pastels. Her peacefulness is unmistakable.

Opening the French door, her head turns in my direction, not expecting anyone out here at this hour.

“Is it okay if I come sit with you?” I ask.

Her mouth tips up. “Of course. Did I wake you?”

We both gaze out at the watercolor horizon, its hues shifting from blue to orange to yellow. “You didn’t. Actually, I think I slept the hardest I have in years.”

“That so, huh?” She smirks, a hint of pride in her eyes, as if she’s silently claiming credit for my best sleep in years.

“I was worried I had scared you off when I woke up and didn’t see you next to me.”

Her smile fades, the memory of my past disappearance clearly flickering in her mind.

I’ve tried to apologize before, and she told me it was water under the bridge. But anything I’ve said regarding it hasn’t felt like enough. Instead it lingers, unresolved, leaving that old hurt to fester right beneath the surface.

“Look, I know you told me before that everything was fine. But I can’t let it go like that. I want to apologize for what I did. For leaving you like that. For not even reaching out afterward. I was the biggest fucking idiot.”

From her seat, she shrugs. “It’s not all your fault. We both hurt each other. And I’m sorry for my part in it too.”

As the months and years passed, I outgrew the resentment over what she had said. The only anger inside me was now directed at myself for not having the bravery to make things right sooner.

“Now, as a grown man, I understand why you said what you did. Back then, I was young and dumb, with a bruised ego. You don’t have anything to apologize for—I’m the main one at fault. I was an idiot. I should never have up and left in the middle of the night. I should have texted you back, or reached out. Or anything. ” Tapping my thumb against my knee, I add, “I’ve regretted it every day since.”

She nods, seeming at peace with the answer. “I’m glad we talked about it.” Looking up at me with cautious optimism, she adds, “I have missed you. A lot.”

“I’ve missed you too. More than you’ll ever know.” I reach out and grab her hand that’s supported on the chair’s armrest, lacing my fingers through hers.

I’ve waited ten years for another opportunity. I’m willing to wait ten more, and ten after that. Even if all I want to do is throw her over my shoulder right now, yelling mine , like some possessive egomaniac. I’ve waited this long, so I can wait for her decision this time around too.

“Can I tell you a secret?” she blurts out.

“Anything.”

“I really, really don’t like Washington,” she says, exhaling like the confession is a weight off her chest.

“Then why stay there?”

“Because it’s the only fresh start I’ve ever had. It’s not chalked full of memories like Lawson is. I guess I’m hoping it will grow on me one of these days. Once I settle in. Or maybe I’m just lonely and need to adopt a cat.”

“As long as you find happiness, that’s what matters.” I have to physically bite my tongue from spewing out all the other love sick confessions I want to tell her. That her life could be here, if that’s what she wanted. That I’d gladly follow her back up north and start over somewhere new if it meant even the slightest chance of being together. That physical location doesn’t mean a thing, because the only home I’ve ever felt is when I’m with her.

We sit side by side, swaying back and forth in our matching chairs, watching the sun disappear behind a tall hill. I wish I could freeze the moment, hold onto the quiet and the closeness, and make it last forever—just the two of us, right here.

“You motherfucker,” Ella mutters as I lay out a six-letter word on the Scrabble board.

Games always bring out a side of her most people never see. While she’s usually reserved, she also has got to be the world’s most competitive person in disguise. Maybe it’s her fierce drive to win, but she could make a professional athlete cry with her level of determination.

“Have a problem with something over there?” I chuckle, straightening out my tiles.

“Nope,” she replies, popping the p . “Having a blast, that’s all.”

It’s bullshit, of course. She’ll sit here all day until she beats me or it’ll drive her insane. Normally, I’m terrible at this game. But today, the Scrabble gods are clearly on my side, and I’m scoring high-point words like it’s nothing.

After watching the sunrise this morning, I suggested grabbing coffee at Little Elm. It seemed like something friends would do—hanging out, drinking coffee, playing old board games. Secretly, it’s an excuse to spend more time with her. The thought of her leaving Lawson gnaws at me like the final seconds ticking away on a clock.

“You sure you’re having fun? You seem a little on edge,” I laugh.

She shakes her iced espresso, the cubes rattling around like they’re proving my point. “Blame it on all these brown sugar shaken espressos you’ve been pumping into my system.” Narrowing her eyes, she says, “Come to think of it, maybe that’s all a part of your plan.”

“Don’t need an agenda when I have these five and six-letter words doing all the work for me.” I wink, to annoy her a little. I’ve missed this—our dynamic, the back-and-forth. Maybe this dreaded friend zone isn’t the worst place to be. “Are you ready to accept defeat yet?”

“Oh, please. Don’t get cocky quite yet.” She examines the small wooden tiles on her rack, switching between studying the board, her letters, and shooting me the stink eye.

Then, with a smirk, she straightens her posture before laying down a three-letter word: cum.

I nearly spit out my drink when I see it. Across the table, she leans back, arms crossed and a triumphant look on her face as if she’s won the entire game. To be fair, she definitely has, even if the points don’t reflect it.

“That can’t possibly count as a word. Can it?” I ask, trying to keep a straight face.

“Of course it can. Unless you’re too much of a prude, that is.” She bumps her leg against mine under the table, underscoring her sarcasm.

I smirk. “Prude? I think you may have forgotten a few things about me.”

Her eyes snap to mine as she flushes a delicate pink. She didn’t forget. The rosy hue of her cheeks make me suspicious that she remembers all too well. And I’m an asshole for being proud of it.

The air between us thickens with memories of all the times we’ve fucked throughout that summer. From the look in her eyes, I can tell she’s thinking about it too. It has been, and always will be, the best sex I’ve ever had.

Our little horny bubble bursts as Sherie bustles over to our table, squealing with excitement over seeing us. Her bright red hair matches her fiery, bubbly personality, and she wipes her freshly-washed hands on her apron with a wide smile. “Well, isn’t it my lucky day? Two of my favorite people are here at the same time.”

Ella stands to hug Sherie, towering a whole head above the petite bakery owner. “I was hoping to see you today since we didn’t get to talk much during all the wedding chaos. Which, by the way, thank you for swooping in and saving the day.”

Sherie holds Ella at arm’s length, beaming as she takes her in. “Oh, of course, dear. Anything for you. I still always brag about you and those Pilates classes you taught. You have the face of an angel but you sure busted our asses like a drill sergeant.”

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it,” Ella replies, smiling at the memory.

“Do you still teach? Please tell me you do, so I can make arrangements to take one of your classes someday.”

“I haven’t taught in years. I take classes myself, but I’m not certified to be an instructor anymore.”

“I get it. Life gets busy. I sure wish you were back in Lawson to teach again, though. The studio’s been closed for years now.”

The mention of the studio is like a spark that floats through the air and lights up Ella’s eyes. Interest and curiosity seem to coarse through her. I know she has a thousand more questions for Sherie about it, but is reigning it in.

“That’s too bad. It was a great little space,” she replies, half-distracted by her own thoughts.

“It absolutely was.” Sherie’s eyes shift from me to Ella, a wry smile tugging at blush-heavy cheeks. “You two have any plans for the day?”

I point to the game board filled with wooden tiles. “At the moment, attempting to beat her in Scrabble.”

Looking down at our game, Sherie’s eyes widen, as she lets out a boisterous laugh. “Well, someone sure knows how to spice things up. Jude, I’m suspicious of you over there laying down that word.”

I raise my hands like I’m swearing an oath. “I’m innocent in this matter. ”

Knowing she’s been busted, Ella’s eyes widen. It’s so fucking cute. “I checked the online dictionary. It’s an accepted word…”

Sherie bursts out laughing again. “Well, I love to see it. Jude here could use a little spice in his life from someone like you. God knows he’s in here too often, half-asleep and desperate for caffeine with all that overtime at the hospital he pulls.” An employee calls her name from the front register, and she nods to let them know she’s on her way. “Well, it was great seeing you both. Enjoy the rest of your spicy Scrabble.”

We thank her as she pulls us into big hugs that only grandmas seem to have perfected. As she walks away, she calls out over her shoulder, “And Ella, if you ever want to kick my ass in Pilates again, just say the word. I know plenty of people who’d love to come to a studio if you ever decided to open one.”

As we settle back down at our table, I can see the wheels turning in Ella’s mind, envisioning plans and letting scenarios unfold.

“Got some ideas brewing?” I ask, raising an eyebrow.

She glances at me. “No. I don’t have the guts to do something like that.”

“You’re capable of anything you put your mind to.” Wanting to lighten the mood, I tack on, “Look at you with Scrabble—won the whole damn thing without even scoring the highest amount of points.”

She fights a smile, before shifting in her chair. “I don’t know the first thing about starting and running a business. Plus, you know, the whole not living here thing. ”

“Anything’s possible,” I say, careful not to push too hard, but hoping she’ll consider any possibility that could bring her happiness. “And if you ever did want to go for it, you’d have a whole team behind you. You wouldn’t be alone.”

Her eyes lock onto mine, searching for reassurance, for something solid to hold onto.

If only she knew how committed I already am.