Chapter 11
Jett
The fluorescent lights in the grocery store hum overhead, casting everything in that dull, washed-out glow that makes time feel suspended.
Like I’ve stepped into a place where nothing moves forward and everything lingers.
It’s similar to how I felt when I first came home from the military.
Life as I knew it was changing, and I didn’t know how to keep up with it.
Kind of like my life right now.
I grip the handle of the cart a little tighter than necessary as I push it down the aisle, barely registering what I’m grabbing.
My head is nowhere near this store. It’s back at the damn dinner table, much like it has been for the past week.
I can’t get the image of her face out of my head.
The confusion. The shock. The betrayal. The hurt.
It’s as if the ground had shifted and she didn’t know where to stand anymore.
She looked around the table, only to find her dad ducking his head in shame and my mom looking guilty. I’m so fucking tired of hurting her.
I exhale hard, dragging a hand down my face as I skim the coffee brands until I find the one I’m looking for. Crossing coffee off my mental shopping list, I move down the aisle to the bread.
I should’ve gone after her. The thought has been on a loop since she walked out. Instead of listening to Saylor, I should’ve followed Wren out the door. Should’ve begged her to let me explain.
But I didn’t.
I’m such an idiot. We don’t need more space.
We’ve had nearly ten years of space. What we need is a chance to talk, because it turns out our whole lives have been formed on the heels of miscommunication and secrets.
I’d give anything to sit down and hear about her life.
What has she been through? Why California?
I want to get to know the new Wren, even though the old Wren I fell in love with is still there, but she’s buried beneath betrayal.
I stop in front of a display case, staring at the neatly packaged cuts of beef–our brand stamped across every label. Years of hard work from generations who decided we were supposed to be for the greater good.
Funny how that phrase always seems to screw someone over.
It’s not just me I’m pissed at.
It’s my mom.
Her mom.
It’s every adult in our lives who, in that situation, decided they knew better than we did.
I tilt my head back and forth, begging for my neck to crack and ease some of the tension I can’t shake.
It was family day, the day surrounding basic training graduation, and I was lying in the hotel room bed, unable to sleep.
As great as it was to see my parents, Crew, and Saylor, my heart was missing Wren.
She should’ve been there, but I’d already screwed things up.
I went through the drawers in the hotel room until I found a notepad with the hotel logo on it.
Flicking on the lamp, I sat there for an hour and poured out my heart.
I wasn’t coming home any time soon; technical training was next, but I knew I needed to explain myself.
I trusted Mom to make sure she got it.
She took that choice away from me…from us.
And now I can't stop thinking about all of the what ifs, even though I’ve played this game a million times.
What if she had read it?
Would she have hated me less?
Would she have understood?
What if she had written back?
What if she was waiting for me after my first tour? Would I have reenlisted?
What if we had found our way back to each other sooner rather than a decade later?
I huff, a humorless laugh escaping, as I stand in the middle of the meat department like an idiot.
Or maybe I’m giving the letter too much power.
Maybe it wouldn’t have changed a damn thing. Maybe she still would’ve chased bigger dreams and found herself in bigger cities. I’d always known Wren was destined for more than Silo Bay. More than the life of a farmer. More than me…
That’s what I always told myself, but now it pisses me off, and I can’t explain why.
I push past our display case and start moving faster this time, like I can outrun my thoughts and leave them next to the ground beef.
But they follow, like they always do.
Wren
I’ve walked around this grocery store aimlessly for far longer than I care to admit. I move up and down each aisle, tossing things into my cart without a care in the world. I can’t get the thoughts to stop spiraling.
“I wrote you a letter after basic training.”
“Nora and your mom… We thought it was better if you had a clean break.”
“You were eighteen and he was… He wasn’t ready for you.”
“We were trying to protect you.”
They were trying to protect me, but their actions sent me into the hands of someone far worse than Jett Riggsby. He might not have been mature enough, but he loved me. We might not have worked out in the long haul, but I know he never would’ve put his hands on me. That much I know for sure.
I stare at the jars of Alfredo sauce, unable to decide.
He wrote to me and explained everything. It might not have been immediately, but he didn’t leave without a word. Yes, I had been through the unimaginable while he was away, but would this have changed things?
Learning the truth almost hurts more, because in my head, I built a version of him. He’s still the villain in my story, but would there have been a redeeming arc?
My throat burns and my nose stings. I will not start crying in the middle of the grocery store, but dammit, do I want to. Reaching for a random jar of sauce, I add it to the cart and move on. If I had received the letter…would I have read it?
Would I have moved back to Silo Bay after graduating instead of California?
Would I have stayed angry? Or would I have waited for him?
Would I have made different choices?
What if—
My cart slams into something hard. It’s loud and rattles through my arms.
“Oh my…” I splutter. “I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attention.” The apology spills out of me automatically as I look up. My breath hitches as my gaze lands on familiar cerulean blues. The outer rim is darker than normal, but it matches the dark spots beneath his eyes.
Jett.
His cart is angled slightly, one hand still gripping the handle, the other braced against the side to keep it upright. Our eyes lock, and for a second, no one speaks. It’s like the entire store fades away.
He starts to say something, but I cut him off.
“I’m sorry,” I say again quickly. “I wasn’t paying attention.”
“It’s fine. I should’ve been watching where—”
“No, it was me.”
We both freeze after fumbling over apologies. It’s awkward because we never used to stumble over words. Silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable. Jett removes his cap and runs his fingers through his disheveled hair.
“About dinner—”
“I need to check out,” I blurt, cutting him off again.
“Wren, I think we need—”
I raise my hand, stopping him. “I can’t do this right now.”
“When can you?” he snaps.
My chest feels tight. Too tight. If we start this conversation in the middle of this store, I might not be able to hold everything in. I'm not ready to let it out. Or have my truths be the talk of the town.
Not here, and not like this.
His gaze drops to my cart, the corner of his lip twitching.
I glance down and realize what he’s staring at. The packages of honey mustard pretzel bites in my cart.
“I still can’t get enough of these,” I admit quietly. “I didn’t have them a lot while I was in LA.”
Because a certain someone didn’t like junk food and threw it away whenever I bought them.
Something shifts in his expression. Not quite a smile, but something close.
I push my cart past him before I can second-guess my actions. “I’ll see you around.” My voice sounds weak, and I hate showing my weakness.
“Wren—”
I hear him call out, but I don’t stop. I move through the checkout like the place is on fire before nearly jogging across the parking lot.
I don’t stop moving until I’m pulling into my driveway, and even then, I go through the motions as if the world will stop if I do.
And maybe it will, because if I stop, I might fall apart.
I’m halfway through putting things away when I hear the knock on my door. My stomach drops with dread and…fear.
Leaving the groceries on the counter, I walk slowly into the living room. With a deep sigh, I reach for the knob. I swear, Jett better not have followed me home…
But it’s not Jett.
“Wren,” my dad greets with his gaze cast down.
My eyes close for a brief second before I turn, leaving the door open. He steps inside, his expression measured, as if he’s trying to figure out how to handle the already fragile situation.
“We need to talk.”
“Yeah, we do,” I toss out as I step back into the kitchen to resume putting away the few groceries I purchased.
He steps closer, stopping on the other side of the counter, hands braced on the edge like it’s a life support.
“I’m sorry,” he says, and I’m taken aback. “About the letter and for not telling you. We didn’t want you waiting on Jett. The boy has changed–grown into a man–but he wasn’t ready for you back then. We didn’t want you holding off on your life while he figured his out.”
“But that wasn’t your place,” I snap.
“I know. We shouldn’t have interfered. I wasn’t happy your mom and Nora did what they did, but it was too late.
I learned about it after you were in California, and you seemed happy.
I didn’t want to ruin what you were starting.
I wish I had known. Hell, I wish everything that happened was different, but we can’t go into the past. I can only hope one day you’ll forgive me for the part I had in shaping your life when we shouldn’t have interfered, even if we thought we were doing the right thing. ”
I swallow roughly, knowing they were only trying to protect me, but it doesn’t lessen my frustration. “I’m so tired of everyone having an opinion over my life. It’s my life.”
“Wren–”
“Do you have any idea what that letter would’ve meant to me?” My voice is sharper than I intend. “How different my life could’ve been?”
“I didn’t know…”
“That’s the problem. No one put themselves in my shoes. Everyone assumed what my life needed to look like at eighteen, but no one asked me what I wanted. You all treated me like a child.”
“You are our child.”
The words land heavily between us, because I get it. I understand I am their child and they wanted what was best for me, but I was an adult. I was going through something unimaginable, which they didn’t know about, and that’s on me, but I still should’ve been given the letter.
“You not giving me that letter…” I start, my voice quivering despite my effort to steady it. “It changed everything for me.”
“I can see that.”
“No, you can’t,” I whisper.
Because how could he?
No one can understand what those years did to me. The choices I made. The things I stayed for. The version of myself I became just to survive.
Dad’s throat bobs as he tries to read me, but I won’t let my armor crack. “What happened, Pumpkin?”
Tears well in my eyes as I bite my cheek. For a second, I consider telling him everything, but it’s not going to fix anything. At this moment, it’s going to cause more harm than good.
“Just…a lot.”
My shoulders droop as the truth weighs down on me. I’m grateful he doesn’t press.
Instead, he rounds the counter and comes beside me. It’s awkward, with neither of us knowing whether we should hug. As he reaches out, I let his strong arms wrap me up.
“I’m sorry,” he says again, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.
“Me too,” I admit quietly.
If there’s anything I’ve learned in life, it’s that everything can change in a blink of an eye. It’s not forgotten, but it’s forgiven.
He looks at me like he wants to say more, but decides better.
“We’ll be fine, Dad,” I say honestly, because I know we will. “I just need some time.”
He nods. “Take all the time you need. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
“Love you.”
“Love you, too, Pumpkin.”
He turns to leave, and I wait for the sound of the front door before I exhale a deep breath.
For years, I thought Jett leaving without a word was the moment everything broke. But what if it was just the beginning? Because everything that came after has only shattered me more.