21. Promises and Goodbyes
Chapter 21
Promises and Goodbyes
T he walk to Jimmy's door felt both too long and too short, every step carrying the weight of possibility and uncertainty. Our laughter from the evening still echoed in my ears. He'd always had that effect on me, drawing out the person I tried so hard to hide behind boardroom masks.
Mrs. Henderson's strategically positioned fairy lights (when had she even found time to install those?) cast a warm glow over the porch, turning everything soft and dream-like. Through the trees, I caught glimpses of what had to be half the town's population attempting to be subtle about their continued surveillance. The rustle of bushes suggested our audience was still heavily invested in this unfolding story.
“Well,” I started, shoving my hands into my coat pockets to stop myself from reaching for him, “I should probably?—“
The words died in my throat as Jimmy grabbed my hand, his touch firm and sure. No hesitation, no uncertainty—just the kind of confidence I remembered from before.
Before my brain could fully process what was happening, he was leading me through his door, past the living room with its carefully arranged furniture, and toward his bedroom.
I paused just inside the doorway, my heartbeat loud enough to drown out every other sound. The room was a snapshot of who Jimmy was—meticulous, thoughtful, but never sterile. There were little touches of personality everywhere: a framed photo of his mother on the nightstand, the perfectly made bed with a throw blanket folded at the end, and a guitar leaning against the far wall. It was lived-in, like him.
Jimmy let go of my hand and turned to face me, his expression serious but not heavy. His eyes—those familiar, devastating eyes—searched mine. For what, I couldn’t say, but whatever he saw must have been enough because he stepped closer, close enough that I could feel his warmth.
“Are you sure?” I asked, my voice low, almost hoarse.
Jimmy’s lips curved into a small, confident smile, the kind that made my chest ache. “I’m not going to break, Ethan. Not this time.”
The weight of his words hit me like a freight train, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe. He wasn’t just talking about tonight; he was talking about all of it. Everything that had happened between us, everything that had broken and been painstakingly pieced back together.
I lifted a hand to his face, hesitating for just a second before my palm met his cheek. His skin was warm, and he leaned into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment.
“Okay,” I whispered, more to myself than to him.
When our lips met, it wasn’t hurried or frantic. It was slow, deliberate, and so full of feeling that I thought my chest might explode. His hands found their way to my waist, pulling me closer as the kiss deepened. The taste of him was intoxicating, a mix of mint and something uniquely Jimmy.
My hands moved of their own accord, sliding up his arms, over his shoulders, and into his hair. He let out a quiet sound, something between a sigh and a moan, and it sent a shiver down my spine.
Somehow, we ended up on the bed, his weight settling over me as his lips moved from my mouth to my jaw, then my neck. Every touch, every kiss, felt like a question, and I answered with my body, arching into him, pulling him closer.
“You’re amazing,” I murmured, the words slipping out before I could stop them.
Jimmy paused, lifting his head to look at me. There was something raw in his expression, something that made my heart clench.
“You’re not so bad yourself,” he replied, his voice soft but teasing. The familiar banter brought a small smile to my lips, even as my chest ached with emotion.
His hands moved to the buttons of my shirt, his fingers steady but unhurried. He was taking his time, as if savoring every moment, every inch of skin he revealed. When his lips followed the path his hands had created, I couldn’t hold back the soft gasp that escaped me.
“Jimmy,” I said his name like a prayer, my fingers tangling in his hair as he continued his exploration. The warmth of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth, the way his tongue flicked over sensitive skin—it was almost too much, and yet I didn’t want it to stop.
He pulled back slightly, his eyes meeting mine again. “Still good?”
I nodded, my throat too tight to form words.
“Good,” he said, and there was a note of satisfaction in his voice that sent a fresh wave of heat through me.
He kissed his way back up to my mouth, and when our lips met again, it was like coming home. This time, there was more urgency, more need. His hands moved lower, finding the waistband of my pants, and I couldn’t stop the soft groan that escaped me when he unbuttoned them.
“Is this okay?” he asked, his voice low and rough.
“Yes,” I managed to say, my voice barely more than a whisper. “God, yes.”
What followed was a slow unraveling, a careful, deliberate shedding of barriers and insecurities. Every touch, every kiss, every movement was a revelation. He was gentle but sure, his confidence a steady anchor as we navigated this uncharted territory together.
His hand slipped lower, brushing against my cock, and the sensation was almost overwhelming. My head fell back against the pillow, a soft moan escaping me as he wrapped his hand around me, his grip firm but perfect. He worked me with practiced ease, his movements unhurried but deliberate, like he wanted to memorize every reaction.
“Jimmy,” I gasped, my fingers digging into his shoulders as he brought me closer and closer to the edge. “I—I need…”
“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm. “Just let go.”
And I did.
The world seemed to dissolve around us, leaving only the two of us in that moment. It was intense and beautiful and everything I hadn’t known I was missing. When it was over, we lay tangled together, our breathing slowly returning to normal.
Jimmy’s fingers traced lazy patterns on my chest, and I turned my head to look at him. His hair was a mess, his lips swollen, and there was a soft, contented smile on his face.
“You okay?” he asked, his voice quiet.
I nodded, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Yeah. More than okay.”
He laughed, a soft, warm sound that made my chest feel impossibly full.
“Good,” Jimmy murmured, pressing a kiss to my shoulder that made my heart skip several essential beats. “Because I'm not letting you run off this time.”
Later, we lay tangled together, the moonlight painting silver paths across rumpled sheets. Jimmy's fingers traced lazy patterns on my chest, each touch both soothing and electric. The moment felt suspended, perfect - everything I'd dreamed about during eight years of carefully maintained distance.
“Why did you leave?”
The question hung in the air between us, soft but heavy with all the weight of our shared past. I'd been dreading this conversation since the moment Liam called about Jimmy's accident, but somehow, lying here in the gentle darkness, it felt right to finally face it.
I took a deep breath, staring at the ceiling as memories I'd tried so hard to bury resurfaced. “My father,” I started quietly, the words tasting bitter even now. “He called me one day. Told me to end things with you. Said if I didn't, he'd handle it himself.”
Jimmy's fingers stilled momentarily before resuming their gentle motion, grounding me in the present even as I spoke about the past.
“He didn't mean for things to turn out like they did,” I continued, the old anger mixing with newer understanding. “He was worried about the board, about public perception. About what they'd say if they found out I was dating someone who didn't fit their narrow definition of acceptable.” My laugh held no humor. “I hated him for it. But I hated myself more for listening.”
“Is he trying?” Jimmy's voice was carefully neutral. “To make things right?”
“Yeah.” I thought about my father's recent visit, his attempts to bridge the gulf between us. “It's complicated. We're both learning how to have a real relationship after years of just having a business one.”
Jimmy hummed thoughtfully, his head resting on my chest in a way that made my heart ache with how right it felt. “What do you actually do? I mean, besides getting bullied by judgmental ducks and organizing elaborate lakeside dates?”
The attempt to lighten the mood made me smile despite the heaviness of our conversation. “I run Cole Tech - it's a technology company my family built. Lots of meetings, endless email chains, and trying to stop the board from staging coups every other Tuesday.”
“Sounds thrilling.”
“Oh, absolutely. Nothing says 'living the dream' like quarterly profit projections.”
He lifted his head slightly, meeting my eyes in the moonlight. Something in his expression made my chest tight. “Do you need to go back to New York?”
The question hit like a physical thing. “Yeah,” I admitted softly. “I need to fix some things there. The company's in a delicate position, and if I'm not careful, everything we've built could...” I trailed off, not wanting to think about the corporate wolves circling in my absence.
“Hey.” Jimmy's hand found my cheek, turning my face toward his. “It's okay. You should go.”
“I'll come back,” I said quickly. “I'm not walking away again. Not from this. Not from you.”
His smile was soft but held an edge of something that looked like doubt. “Ethan, your whole life is there. The company, your family's legacy - you can't just abandon all that for some small town that doesn't even show up on most maps.”
“Watch me.” The certainty in my voice surprised even me. “We'll figure it out. Maybe not all at once, but we will.”
“The great Ethan Cole, commuting to board meetings from Oakwood Grove?” His attempt at humor couldn't quite hide the vulnerability underneath. “What would your shareholders say?”
“Probably the same thing they said about my duck-based investment strategies.” I pulled him closer, needing him to understand. “I spent eight years building an empire I didn't even want, Jimmy. I'm not giving up the one thing that actually matters.”
He didn't respond verbally, just pressed closer, his breath warm against my neck. We lay there in comfortable silence, the moonlight our only witness as promises neither of us quite dared to voice settled into something real.
Sleep found us still tangled together, his fingers intertwined with mine like he was afraid I might disappear. My last conscious thought was that maybe this time, we could write a different ending to our story.
The smell of something definitely not meant to be burning dragged me from sleep. The sun was barely up, painting Jimmy's room in soft morning light that would have been romantic if not for the distinct scent of culinary disaster wafting through the house.
I groaned, rolling out of bed and pulling on my clothes - which somehow looked significantly less pristine than they had last night. Mrs. Henderson was definitely going to have opinions about my “morning after” appearance.
Following the smoke trail led me to the kitchen, where I found a scene that could only be described as breakfast-adjacent warfare. Jimmy stood amid the chaos wielding a spatula like it was a medieval weapon, smoke billowing dramatically from what might have once been a frying pan.
“Morning,” I drawled, leaning against the doorframe and trying not to laugh. “Should I call the fire department, or is this a private performance?”
He looked up, his hair adorably disheveled and his expression caught between embarrassment and defiance. “I was trying to make breakfast.”
“Trying being the operative word?” I sniffed the air dramatically. “Though I have to say, your smoke signal game is impressive. Is this how you usually communicate with the townspeople?”
“Hey, at least I'm attempting romance.” He gestured with the spatula, sending what might have been eggs (but possibly modern art) flying. “Past Jimmy probably had this whole morning-after thing perfectly planned.”
“Past Jimmy once set off three smoke alarms trying to make toast before learning how to cook properly.” I moved closer, wrapping my arms around him from behind. “Some things really don't change.”
“Great, so I'm consistently terrible at kitchen activities across all versions of myself. That's comforting.”
The pan chose that moment to emit an ominous sizzle, and Jimmy finally admitted defeat, dumping the whole thing in the sink with a splash that definitely violated several laws of physics.
“Sarah's?” he suggested, turning in my arms with a grin that made my heart do complicated things.
“Probably safer for everyone involved.” I pressed a kiss to his temple. “Though we should probably shower first. You've got...” I gestured vaguely at the impressive amount of what might have been flour in his hair.
His smile turned mischievous. “Shower together? To save water, of course. Very environmentally conscious.”
“Of course. Purely ecological reasons.”
What should have been a quick cleanup turned into something considerably longer, involving significantly more laughter and stolen kisses than actual efficiency. By the time we finally made it to Sarah's, my hair was definitely not up to its usual corporate standards, and Jimmy's shirt was buttoned slightly wrong.
The diner's bell announced our arrival with what felt like extra enthusiasm. Sarah took one look at us and immediately started grinning.
“Well, well,” she said, already pouring coffee without being asked. “Look who finally made it to breakfast.”
“We tried cooking,” Jimmy explained, settling into what had become our usual booth.
“I can tell.” She eyed my decidedly uncorporate appearance with poorly concealed amusement. “The smoke signals were very creative.”
“Does anyone in this town actually work?”
“Multi-tasking is a small town skill.” Sarah set down plates we definitely hadn't ordered yet.
Through the window, I caught sight of what had to be at least four different people pretending to be extremely interested in their morning paper while obviously watching us. The town's surveillance game was evolving, though their subtlety still needed work.
“I'm pretty sure Riley's writing a novel about us by now,” Jimmy commented, reaching for the coffee with the desperation of someone who'd faced morning kitchen warfare and lost.
“Please, he's already got a three-book deal.” Sarah topped off our cups with a knowing smile. “Mrs. Henderson's negotiating the movie rights.”
The normalcy of it all - sitting in a small-town diner, trading jokes about our extremely invested audience, watching Jimmy try to pretend he wasn't stealing bacon from my plate - felt like some kind of miracle. The weight of last night's conversation was still there, but it felt lighter somehow, balanced by the simple joy of this moment.
“You know,” Jimmy said thoughtfully, “Current Jimmy might be terrible at cooking, but I think he's getting pretty good at other things.”
“Oh?” I raised an eyebrow, trying to maintain dignity while he continued his stealth bacon theft. “Like what?”
“Like knowing when to let go of perfect plans and just enjoy the moment.” He smiled, and my heart did that stupid skipping thing again. “Even if those moments involve minor kitchen fires and an entire town's worth of betting pools.”
Before I could respond, Mrs. Henderson herself bustled in, making a beeline for our table with what looked suspiciously like wedding venue brochures tucked under her arm.
“Oh good, you're both here!” She settled into our booth without invitation, because personal space was apparently another big city concept that didn't translate to small town life. “I've been thinking about color schemes...”
Jimmy caught my eye across the table, his expression a perfect mix of amusement and horror. And in that moment, surrounded by Sarah's knowing smiles and Mrs. Henderson's enthusiastic wedding planning and probably half the town's not-so-subtle observation, I knew with absolute certainty that this was exactly where I belonged.
As we walked through town, a new sign caught my eye: “Paws and Purrs Cat Cafe” decorated with painted paw prints and, unsurprisingly, what appeared to be Mrs. Henderson's signature fairy lights. A memory flickered - Jimmy talking about wanting a cat someday between piano pieces.
“Want to check it out?” I asked, gesturing to the storefront where half the town seemed to be gathered for the grand opening.
Jimmy's face lit up in a way that made my chest tight. Before he could respond, we were swept into what had apparently become Oakwood Grove's social event of the season.
“Finally!” Nina called from her position near the front of the line. “We've been waiting for you two to show up.”
“The whole town's been conspiring,” Liam explained, grinning as Caleb tried to maintain order in what looked like a very enthusiastic queue. “Figured you'd want to be here for the opening.”
“The whole town, huh?” I raised an eyebrow at the suspicious number of familiar faces. “I'm sure this has nothing to do with Sky's betting pools.”
“Actually,” Jake chimed in from where he was supposedly providing 'official security', “this one's on Riley's spreadsheet. Something about 'romantic milestones involving furry companions.'”
The cafe's owner stepped out, and I had to blink twice. The guy looked exactly like a certain superhero, complete with broad shoulders and those signature glasses. He introduced himself as Clark Danvers with a warm smile that somehow made everyone feel instantly welcome.
“How have we never seen him before?” Jimmy whispered as we waited. “I mean, seriously. Does he also mysteriously disappear whenever there's trouble?”
I bit back a laugh, squeezing his hand. “I'm sure there's a perfectly normal explanation.”
Clark cleared his throat, gathering everyone's attention. “Welcome to Paws and Purrs,” he began, his voice carrying that perfect mix of authority and gentleness. “This cafe isn't just about coffee and cats - though we have plenty of both. It's about giving these amazing animals a chance to find their forever homes.”
He gestured to the window where several cats lounged in the morning sun. “Every cat here is up for adoption. They've all got their own stories, their own personalities. Some came from shelters, others were strays. But they all deserve a second chance at happiness.”
Inside, the space was warm and inviting, filled with custom-built perches and cozy corners. Jimmy immediately gravitated toward a fluffy ragdoll with striking blue eyes, who seemed just as drawn to him.
“That's Luna,” Clark said softly, appearing beside us with that superhero stealth. “She's been waiting for the right person.”
While Jimmy was absorbed in what looked like love at first sight, I quietly approached Clark about adoption paperwork. Elliot caught my eye from across the room and gave me a subtle thumbs up - apparently he'd helped set everything up for the perfect surprise.
“We'll handle all the details,” Clark assured me quietly. “And the delivery once everything's finalized.”
The afternoon passed in a blur of purring cats, perfect moments, and the kind of happiness I wished I could bottle. Jimmy's smile grew brighter with each cat he befriended, making my impending departure feel heavier by the minute.
All too soon, we were back at his house, my suitcase already loaded in the car like an accusation. I lingered at the door, trying to find words for everything I couldn't quite say.
“I hate this,” I admitted, voice rough.
Jimmy's eyes glistened, but his smile was steady. “It's okay. Today was perfect, Ethan. We'll figure it out.”
I pulled him close, memorizing everything about this moment - how he fit against me, the familiar scent of his shampoo, the steady beat of his heart against mine.
“I'll be back,” I promised into his hair. “We'll video call every night, even if it's just to watch you attempt to cook.”
His laugh was watery but real. “Bold of you to assume I'm going anywhere near a kitchen without supervision.”
The humor helped, making the goodbye feel less like an ending and more like a pause between chapters. When we finally pulled apart, his face was tear-streaked but hopeful.
“Go save your empire, CEO,” he said softly. “I'll be here when you get back.”
The drive away was the hardest thing I'd ever done - harder than any corporate takeover or board meeting. In my rearview mirror, I watched Jimmy grow smaller, standing on his porch in the morning light.
“I'll come back,” I whispered to the empty car. “I promise.”