Chapter 30
Julian
Stepping into Allie’s house, my house, doesn’t hold the same peace it used to.
It’s just a house now, not my home. My home has stormy gray eyes and chestnut brown hair and smells like sunshine—and now salt, sea and sand.
My cheeks lift on the image swimming through my mind.
I can’t wait to get back to her. To give us every chance at a life together, I’m going to immerse myself in her world—even if it doesn’t last. My heart plummets on that last thought, my hand flying to my chest to rub the spot that bears her name, forever inked into my skin.
I’ll always wonder what could’ve been if I don’t try.
I talked to Allie and Ashley on the six-hour drive home about traveling down south more often.
They teased the idea of me relocating to Malibu.
Allie was right. Ashley is stoked to have me around more often.
From a business standpoint, relocating would make everything easier.
From a family standpoint, Allie sounds elated at the possibility.
She all but begged me to move in with them—the house has more than enough room—but I want to prove to them I can be self-sufficient.
I want to build a life separate from them, and Ever, that I can be proud of but include them in it.
Not just show up and feel like I’m invading their lives.
Dr. Carver agrees. I left her a voicemail after talking to Allie and Ashley.
She called me back just before I hit Blue Lake and sounds impressed with my plans.
I wait for her to tell me it’s too soon, too abrupt for these decisions, but she loves the idea of me getting away from Cavern County, South Point specifically.
“There’s a big world out there, Julian, and moving closer to your family sounds wonderful.” My family.
I say what I’m thinking. “My family?”
“Yes, Julian. Your family. We are not who we come from. We get to decide. I think you’ve chosen your family well. Being in and a part of each other’s lives more regularly sounds like just what you need. I’m so happy for all of you. If there’s anything I can do to help the process, just reach out.”
“Of course. Thanks, Doc—Claire. Truly. Thank you.”
“Julian, you did the work. I just listened.”
“If you say so.” I laugh to hide my discomfort.
“And you’re welcome. I’m proud of you. This call made my whole day.”
More awkward laughter. “Okay. Um, thanks again. Talk to you soon.”
“Bye, Julian.”
Walking through the rooms of my once-home, I look for personal effects—a framed photo, a phone charger, clothes, shoes and .
. . not much else. Small accents here and there.
This house is ready for the next chapter.
Allie loves the idea. I’d only begun renting to own it from her.
Now we plan to turn it into a VRBO for passive income.
I need to talk with Letty and propose she manage Fit full-time.
Seeing our members step up and get certified to run classes got the wheels turning long before my recent trip down south.
The idea of relocating to Southern California has been brewing for a while and not just because of Everly.
SoCal is a big place. Without Everly, I’d have moved somewhere convenient, close but not exactly near Malibu, for work.
With her, I want a place in the vicinity, although pricewise that’s a tall order.
Ashley is up to the challenge and excited to start hunting for property, real estate investment being his favorite hobby.
Knowing him, he’ll find something ridiculously expensive and offer to be my investor.
I need to feel like I’m pulling my weight though.
It’s easy to get swept up in the idea of my found family as Claire calls them and reap the benefits of his affluency.
There’s a fine line between letting them love me and freeloading.
Things I’m sure we’ll cover in upcoming sessions as I navigate relocating.
Although I don’t need a therapist to tell me that sponging off someone is not something I’m willing to do, no matter how it’s spun.
Entering the home gym, I look at the things that belong to me.
I’ll pack this whole room and move it with me.
It’s where I spend most of my time. It’s what drowns out the noise of being alone.
Not sure when I stopped being a loner. Yes, I do.
The pressure on my chest is less, the heat in my belly not as intense.
The low-level panic I feel at wanting to belong with (to?) someone is still there but not as disrupting as it used to be.
Admitting that I want to belong is new, but I embrace it.
I know, Doc. We call that progress.
Stepping into the master suite, our old room, I glance around at the memories that superimpose themselves on the decor.
Through the sliding doors, the sun is starting its descent into the lake.
One last Blue Lake sunset. I sit on the lounge chair beyond the glass and watch until the last streak of light dissolves into the glass surface.
It’s still beautiful, but tonight it seems sad.
Tonight the orb melting into the water reminds me of a match singed out in a puddle.
Later, lying in bed—not our bed, my old bed in my old room—I pick up my phone and tap our text conversation and stare at her words.
I will. I didn’t reply when she sent it.
I just let those two words settle over me like a weighted blanket. Now though, I want to respond.
Me: Promise?
Bubbles pop up like she’s responding, then go away. Seconds later, the phone rings and her smiling face lights up the screen in the dusk of my room. I swipe to answer and tap the speaker button. Before I can say hello, she says, “I already do.”
“Me too.”
“What are you doing?”
“Lying in bed.”
“It’s like 9:00 p.m.”
“I know. I was bored and . . .”
“And?”
“Lonely, I guess.” I pause, but when she doesn’t respond, I add, “It feels weird to say because I used to like being alone. Figured I’d just try to go to sleep early.”
“I wish you were here,” we say at the same time.
“No, I wish I was there,” I amend. “This doesn’t feel like . . . my home anymore.”
“So . . . if you were here, what would we be doing?” Whether she changes the tone of our conversation on purpose to avoid the seriousness or she’s just feeling playful, I’m grateful and play along.
“Oh, baby girl, we’d be . . .” I laugh at my own joke before I speak it. “Doing each other, I’m pretty sure.” Her lilting giggle comes through the phone and fills the room like she’s here. “God, I miss you. Your smell, your skin, your touch, your kiss.”
“If you were here, I’d kiss you.”
“Tell me where you are right now. I wanna picture it—you.”
“I’m in my room, on my bed.”
“What are you wearing?”
“Your muscle shirt.”
“What else?”
“That’s it.”
“Ugh, Ever, you’re killin’ me.”
“It smells like you. I don’t think I’ll wash it till you come back.”
“If I were there, I’d pull it off you and kiss every inch of your body.
” I shove my boxers down one-handed and kick them the rest of the way off with my feet.
I wrap my hand around my hardened length and pretend it’s her hand touching me, stroking me.
“Ugh,” I muffle my groan with the back of my other hand.
I’m not sure when we decided to take our call here, but we’re in obvious agreement, fully on the same page.
“I’d tangle my fingers in your hair while you kiss me. I know you like it when I do that.” Her voice goes breathless on the last two words before her moan pierces the darkness. “Mmm, Julie.”
Fuck, she is so hot. This is soo hot.
My dick swells in my hand, telling me I’m close. This might be the quickest I’ve ever come in my life—even quicker than that first night by the pool after seven months without her. Her moans send me over the edge. “Ungh, mmm, yes.”
Panting through my own orgasm, I swipe my boxers from the foot of the bed for clean-up and lie there spent. Neither of us makes a sound except to regulate our breathing. Once mine goes back to normal, my eyelids begin to droop. “I don’t want to let you go.”
“Same.” Her reply sounds heavy, like she’s almost asleep. “I wish your arms were around me right now.”
“Pretend. Leave the phone by your pillow so I can hear you breathe.”
“M-kay. You too.”
Sunlight assaults my eyelids and I squint against the already sweltering rays coming through the sliding door.
My phone still rests against my pillow but the screen is black.
I blink against the daylight and tap the screen.
She’s gone but there’s a text from her. It’s barely 7:00 a.m., but still way later than I ever sleep.
Ever: Went for a beach run and coffee. Best separate night’s sleep ever.
Rolling onto my back, holding the phone above my head, I stare at the screen and grin like a fool. I can’t wait. I spring from the sheets, shower and dress in record time and drive to Fit.
Two hours later, I’m back at the house with a solid plan in place.
Tapping my chest, I turn in slow circles, taking in my surroundings.
My mind is made up. Taking the stairs two at a time, I charge into my room and drag my duffel out of the closet and toss it on the bed.
I empty drawers and stuff it to the hilt.
I take another bag from the top of the closet and begin filling it, too.
Details don’t matter—for once. They’ll welcome me with open arms. I know it.
My heart races at not having a solid plan in place, but I’ve never been more certain of anything.
My mind replays our conversation on my last night in Malibu as we watched the sunset on the beach.
We sat on a blanket, her between my legs, back against my chest, and listened to the waves crash while the glowing orb disappeared before us.
The air was thick with salty moisture, waving her hair.
The breeze chilled our skin the lower the sun sank.