Chapter 78 Jett
Chapter seventy-eight
Jett
Pulling through the ranch's main entrance, I instantly notice the for sale sign is no longer there, and Ander’s truck is parked outside of my parents' home on the property.
I park my truck next to his and make my way toward the front door. I’m guessing he’s noticed my arrival because Ander exits the front door and meets me out on the porch.
“Did the sale go through already? I thought we were still in negotiations...” I begin, and Ander's face shifts into something indecipherable. “What?”
He shakes his head. “Not technically,” he says matter-of-factly with a dry tone as he runs a hand through his hair, looking just as perplexed as I feel.
“What—”
“Just know the ranch will be okay.” He turns to walk back inside, attempting to leave the conversation at that.
Grabbing him by the arm to stop him, I ask, “Ander, what’s going on, man?”
He sighs but turns to face me as I release him, and he shrugs. “I’m not really sure what I’m supposed to say here, Jett. The ranch is safe. And thanks to Mark, so are we. We are all safe. It’s over.”
What the fuck?
Part of me wants to feel relieved, while the other part knows there’s clearly more to the story. Parts that, by the look on Ander’s face, tells me I may not like.
“How?” It’s a simple question, one I can’t avoid asking. I should leave well enough alone, but I can’t. I have a feeling in the pit of my stomach that I can’t ignore.
Every part of Ander’s features sag in hesitation at my question.
Oh fuck, I really won’t like this.
“I can’t say,” he says in a hushed tone, holding back.
“I know damn well the ranch can’t survive as is... Someone had to have bought it. What aren’t you telling me?” My anger is rising to the surface, and I’m trying to remain calm, but it isn’t necessarily easy.
“Have you spoken to Izzy?”
Ander’s question pierces through my chest directly to my heart. Why is he bringing her up? It feels cruel.
My eyes narrow on him. “No. She never responded to me, so I stopped trying. She hates me. You already fucking know this.”
He shakes his head, appearing angry.
“She doesn’t fucking hate you,” Ander snaps. “She’s hurting. There’s a difference. But I’m telling you, brother, giving up on her isn’t the right choice. She needs you, and she needs you to keep trying. She needs to know you won’t give up—”
“Give up?” I scoff bitterly. “Ander, I’ve been trying for years. I fucked up. The best thing I can do for her is to let her go.”
“Don’t be a fucking idiot, Jett. She chose you!” he says, voice rising. That night, when she met with Maverick... It was to end things with him because she chose you!”
“Well a-fucking-ware,” I shout back, letting my frustration win. “I kept things from her. Secrets that almost took her life. I don’t blame her for hating me. She should.”
Ander growls, “Oh, come on. You know that’s bullshit. Neither of you are perfect, Jett. You fucked up, yes. But who doesn’t?”
“What do you want from me?!” I snap.
“I want you to stop giving up. I want you to be the man she needs! I want you to be the hard-headed, determined, annoyingly persistent asshole that I know you are. Stop running from this shit.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “Where the hell is all of this coming from anyway? Since when did my personal life become your business? And what the fuck does this have to do with me asking about the ranch?”
“It has everything to do with it!” Ander yells, fisting my shirt in his hands. “She saved us! She saved YOU!”
“What the hell are you talking about!?”
He shoves away from me. “Izzy received money from Maverick’s life insurance policy. He left all of it to her. She chose to use it to buy the ranch. She did a gift deed, taking Mom and Dad off of it, and putting solely your name on the title. It was her one condition. She did it all for you.”
‘W-what!?” I’m faced head-on with confusion and unsure how to process this information.
I haven’t heard from her since that night. She walked away and out of my life, ignoring me ever since. Then, turns around and saves the day. What do I even make of that?
Does this mean there’s hope for us after all? Should I not read into it?
Fuck, I don’t know what to think.
A wave of shame washes over me. I tried to keep us afloat for a year and failed. Yet she catches wind of it all and finds a way to settle it.
It’s so… her. Always thinking of others. She could’ve done anything with that money, but instead more or less gave it to me.
“Yeah, so let that sink in,” Ander mutters in a calmer tone. “And then try to remind yourself why you shouldn’t give up on her.”
“I don’t get it... She hasn’t spoken to me in—”
“Bro, you and Iz have always been explosive together. Everything about the two of you is always so fast-paced.” He brings a hand to my shoulder, squeezing once. “I can bet all of your messages were apologizing and begging for her to forgive you.”
“Of course they were. Hell, I know I fucked up. I’m owning up to it.”
“I mean, have you ever tried taking it slow?”
I scoff. “How the hell am I supposed to do that? You tell me… After V came back into your life, were you able to take it slow?”
“Careful, that’s my wife, motherfucker.” Ander snorts a laugh. “My point is that you shouldn’t stop trying. She needs and deserves you to try. She needs you, Jett.”
After mulling over Ander’s advice, I decide he might have a valid point.
In my mind, contacting Izzy after Maverick’s death was strictly about apologizing and attempting to move forward, but is that truly what she needed from me? Did she need my words? Or did she need my actions?
Did she need to see that no matter what, just like I said, I wasn’t walking away from her?
If so, I haven’t shown her that.
She used to always run from me, from what we have, because it’s all she knew how to do. It left me feeling like I needed to give her a reason to learn how to stay.
I didn’t know she was done running until it was too late. I didn’t know she had chosen me until fate had doomed us in the form of a bullet in someone else’s heart.
And then I gave up on trying to contact her when it got too hard for me. Just fucking gave up, like a coward.
I’ve never been a coward a single goddamn day of my life. It ends now.
I can’t give up on her, on us.
It’s time to fucking act.
But hell, I’d be a liar if I said I wasn’t nervous.
I type a message, then delete it. Then type it again and delete it again.
I repeat this process several times.
I need her to know everything I feel. She has to know she’s it for me, and damnit, I need to be it for her.
Nothing I can say seems right or like it’s enough. So instead, I decided to open the door and leave the ball in her court.
Jett
Thank you, Beauty.
I’m a fucking idiot. There’s no way she’s responding to that. Could I have sent anything less meaningful? The thing is, there are no words to describe how grateful I am. No words can justify how badly I miss her and need her to be a part of my life.
To my surprise, not even a minute later, my phone dings with a reply.
Izzy
You weren’t supposed to know.
It’s a simple reply to a simple text. I’ll fucking take it.
It’s my in.
Jett
I know everything.
Izzy
You fucking wish.
I snort out a laugh and debate my response.
She’s responding, and that's all I can focus on. It may not be permanent, but it’s for now, and I’m grateful.
Jett
I miss you.
Fuck.
I shouldn’t have sent that either. I sit in a panic, staring at the bubbles indicating she’s typing, and watch them repeatedly disappear.
The anticipation is killing me.
Just as I’m almost certain I’ve already managed to scare her off again, her reply comes through, and relief floods me.
Izzy
Can I see you?