Chapter 10 Jaxon
Chapter ten
Jaxon
“Did you hear from the lawyers about the farm sale?” I ask Andre, my feet glued in place rather than moving down the stairs like they’re supposed to.
I have to leave in five minutes if I’m going to have a chance at beating Izzy to her office after the lunch I know she has today, which is necessary if I’m going to be able to complete item number five on my list—the sticky note bomb.
“I did. It’s all set for the end of June. So, in just over five weeks,” Andre replies like the helpful assistant he is.
“Great,” I reply. The farm was always the most important thing in my father’s life.
Even though he always resented my presence in his life, as his only child, he felt it was my duty to the family to run the farm someday.
Having it sold will finally cut the last strings holding me to this place, to my dad.
The last ties holding me down, even all these years later.
“A realtor is stopping by the house this afternoon. She’s going to coordinate the company to clear all the personal items out.”
“About that,” I say. “I may not have gotten to my dad’s room.”
There’s a pause on the other end, and I’ve worked with Andre long enough to know that it means he’s trying to remind himself I’m his boss, and he should be professional.
“So…just so we’re on the same page here, you didn’t have time to go through your dad’s room to make sure you weren’t about to trash anything of your mom’s that you wanted to keep…and you didn’t write any music.”
“You don’t have to say it in that tone,” I say. “I’ve written half a song since Monday. I was really cranking last night.”
“Which is progress, but you have to have it done in less than three weeks.”
“Don’t tell Annie, but I think she might’ve been right about Wild Bluffs,” I say, running my hand up the back of my neck.
“It might be just what I need to break my writer’s block.
Which reminds me, ten days isn’t going to cut it.
I need to stay here to convince Izzy to forgive me.
Can you set up my return flight for the day after the sale? ”
I pause.
“Oh, and send me a guitar. I’m going to need that old Taylor I like to use for composing.”
With that taken care of, I race out of the house, making sure to grab the four packs of sticky notes I spent the last few hours writing on.
Nash raises his eyebrow as I climb into the passenger seat of the vehicle I make him sit in while he’s on duty. I know I’m being a dick by not letting the team come into the house, but I can’t stand the idea of anyone else being in that place with me.
“What’s going on with the sticky notes?” he asks as he puts the car in drive.
“I think the coffee is warming her up. Pun certainly intended,” I say, flipping through the top stack of notes. “These are apology bomb notes.”
I read the top one again: “I’m sorry I was a dick.”
“Yeah,” Nash says after a minute. “I don’t know what apology bomb notes are, so I’m going to need some more information.”
“Izzy told me this morning that she has a lunch meeting today. So, I spent the last few hours writing how sorry I am on all these sticky notes. Now, I’m going to stick them all over her desk.”
“Isn’t that going to be…annoying? To have to work at a desk covered in sticky notes?” Nash asks, his eyebrows drawn down in a questioning look.
Shit. Is it?
“I was going for dedicated,” I say, biting my lip as I question my life choices yet again.
The melody showed up where the dirt meets the sky. Maybe peace is louder, when you stop asking why.
“Yes!” I say loudly, causing Nash to swerve as he looks at me.
I pull the pen out of my pocket, grabbing the notebook I stashed in the back seat before writing down the lyrics.
“That better be a million-dollar song,” Nash grumbles as he pulls into the space in front of Izzy’s office.
I click my pen once before shoving it back in my pocket. “I’ll take any song at this point. Really just shooting for mediocre but finished.”
Glancing at my watch, I realize just how much sticking I’m going to have to do before Izzy shows up. “Want to help?” I ask Nash.
Nash shakes his head. “Nah. Still Team Izzy over here. And, while it seems like she might be warming up to you, I’m staying firmly on the sideline until I know for sure.”
I climb out of the vehicle. “Can’t blame you for that.”
“Hey, Becca,” I say casually as I stroll into the office. Maybe if I act normal, she won’t realize it’s weird that I’m here right now.
“Jaxon,” Becca says, her tone the cool, though not cold, one I’ve come to expect. I’m pretty sure it’s how she tries to make it clear she’s Team Izzy. “What are you doing here?”
“Just here on a little forgiveness task,” I say, sitting at Izzy’s desk, and sticking the first note to her computer screen.
Becca takes one look at the sticky note now attached to Izzy’s monitor and promptly stands. “Yeah, I don’t want any part of this. I’m out.”
I don’t respond, too focused on peeling and sticking as fast as I possibly can.
It can’t even be three minutes later when the door opens again.
“Jaxon Reid, what the hell are you doing to my desk?” Izzy asks, but I don’t fail to notice the smile that darts across her face before she wrestles it back into neutrality.
I slide back in her chair, the wheels rolling nicely across the hardwood floor, and study my handiwork.
I made it through three of the four packs of sticky notes, and honestly, they weren’t needed.
It’s a masterpiece. Pinks, green, and blue notes are stuck everywhere, each of them proclaiming just how sorry I am.
Just how much her forgiveness means to me.
“It’s an apology bomb,” I say.
“A what?” she asks, as she walks next to me, leaning over to grab the single note I stuck in the middle of her computer screen.
“Hurting you was the worst thing I’ve ever done,” she reads. “I will never deserve your forgiveness, but I will forever try to earn it.”
“I mean it,” I say.
“Jaxon…” She sighs, and I can’t tell if she’s giving in or if she’s annoyed.
I hop up, giving her access to her desk. “Not to worry if this doesn’t do it. I still have plenty of other ideas. This week is just the warmup.”
As I slide past her, I can’t help but notice the warmth of her body. The way she’d fit perfectly into my arms if I tried to hold her, to dance with her.
Because I seem to be unable to stop looking at her, I also don’t fail to notice the way Izzy’s breath hitches, just slightly, as I move in front of her. Maybe she’s feeling the same strange pull I am.
Maybe there’s something there for her too.
“What are the other ideas? Because I feel like if a—what’d you call it? A forgiveness bomb?—and daily coffee is your definition of a warmup, you need someone to review the list and veto any that get too crazy.”
She’s not wrong, but it’s part of my charm.
“Ah, I’m sure they’ll be fine. I’ve got a good feel for this.”
“You wanted to ask Tiana to homecoming with a choreographed dance…where dogs and cats were doing the dancing. And you just wanted to go as friends with her!” Izzy says, sitting in her chair and giving me her best I-told-you-so look.
“I stand by that—it would’ve been an excellent way to do it. She would’ve remembered it forever.”
“You didn’t own a dog or a cat…” She waves her hand as if brushing off the thought. “But it doesn’t matter. It’s exactly why you need to run this list by someone. I can’t have feral cats running around my office because you decided you wanted them to sing an apology to me.”
Well, there goes that idea, I guess.
“You could make it all stop if you just forgive me,” I say, stating the obvious.
Izzy shakes her head. “True, but I don’t. Though, to be fair to me, you’ve felt bad about it for less than a week. I’ve felt bad about you leaving for fifteen years.”
I force a smile to my face despite the tightness in my chest at her words.
I didn’t expect her to forgive me today, but she’s right.
I deserve to try to make amends for it for the next fifteen years.
And I will. It’s just that, the more time I’ve been spending with Izzy lately, watching her good-natured ribbing of the women in workout class, hearing about the work she does every morning, I just…
it’s going to hurt to have to wait that long to mean something to her again.
“Fifteen years it is, then. Luckily, I have enough ideas to last me that long,” I say.
“Ideas such as…”
“You’ll just veto them.”
“I won’t,” she says. “I will attempt to be objective, despite not wanting you to do anything for me.”
The smile tugging at the corner of her mouth seems to disagree, but I let it slide. “Ah, come on, Iz, you know you’re enjoying the coffee and conversation every morning.”
“Isabel. And I do enjoy the coffee…”
“Ouch. Point taken.”
“You’re stalling, Jaxon,” Izzy says. “Tell me your list.”
“Ugh. Fine.” I raise my hands in mock surrender.
“Upping my daily deliveries to also include groceries for you. Cooking you dinner. Writing you letters every day for a year,” I check them off on my fingers as I run through some of the more normal ideas on my list. “Sending you voice memos apologizing. Sending you memories from our childhood. Just stuff like that.”
“Now tell me the list that you just filtered out,” Izzy says, and I can’t help but laugh. It feels good to be around someone who knows me so well, but who also doesn’t put up with any of my shit.
“How do you feel about scavenger hunts, skydiving, and the world’s largest ice cream sundae?” I ask.
She drops her head into her hands, but I swear her shoulders are shaking in laughter, though it’s possible it’s tears.