29. Jessica #2
I packed my desk in twenty minutes. Left the nameplate. Left the awards. Took the Post-it notes — pink, yellow, green. I held them in my hand. My throat ached. I put them in my bag and walked out.
Bobbie was on the sidewalk when I came out. Arms crossed. Leaning against the building. His eyes red. His mouth trembling. "Finally." He opened his arms. "Go get him."
I walked into the hug. His arms went around me — tight, fierce, his face pressing into my hair. He was laughing and crying at the same time and we held each other on the sidewalk while people streamed past.
"I'm going to miss you," I said. Into his shoulder.
"You're going to FaceTime me every single day, and I'm coming for Christmas, and you're going to make Hunter build me a guest room." He pulled back. His hands on my face. His eyes wet and bright. "Now go home."
I booked a flight to Dallas. Drove the rental car to Copper Creek with the windows down and the Texas air hot on my face and my heart hammering the whole way.
Three hours. The highway turning to county roads.
The county roads turning to fence lines and pastures and the particular gold of late-afternoon light on dry grass that I hadn't seen in three weeks and that hit my chest so hard I had to pull over and breathe.
I drove through town. Past the Silver Spur. Past the market with the tomato stand on the corner. Past the apartment building where my car used to be parked and wasn't anymore. The road to Blackwood Ranch. The gate. The drive. The oaks.
It was Sunday. I hadn't planned it. I hadn't thought about the day.
I'd packed and flown and driven, and the driving had brought me here at five-thirty on a Sunday afternoon.
There were trucks in the yard, and the screen door was open, and the smell of roast and rosemary was drifting across the porch.
Sunday dinner.
I sat in my car. My hands on the wheel. My stomach in my throat. The main house was right there — the porch, the chairs, the light that would be on by evening. I could hear them through the open windows. Voices. Laughter. Maisie's shriek. The clatter of plates.
My hands were shaking. My breath was short. The rental car smelled like plastic and air freshener, and nothing like the truck cab where Hunter had held me after the creek.
I got out. Walked to the porch. The steps creaked under my feet.
The screen door was right there. Through the mesh I could see the table — the long table, the plates, the glasses, the napkins folded the way Louisa folded them.
Every chair full. Wyatt and Ivy. Liam and Stephanie.
Clay and Callie. Maggie and Jack. Maisie in a booster seat with something green on her face. Louisa at the stove. Owen at the head.
One chair empty. Hunter's chair.
My hand found the screen door. Pulled it open. The hinges squeaked.
Every head turned.
The table went silent. Maisie's fork stopped halfway to her mouth.
Clay's glass froze mid-lift — his eyes going wide, his mouth opening, his body straightening in the chair.
Maggie's lips parted. Her hand found Jack's arm and gripped.
Wyatt's face went still — his eyes moving over me, my carry-on, my wrinkled dress, and something shifted behind his expression.
Ivy pressed her hand over her mouth. Stephanie's eyes filled instantly — she blinked fast and looked at Liam.
Liam's jaw tightened and he nodded once, small, to himself.
Louisa's hand stilled on the pot. Her spoon dripping.
Her eyes locking on mine and widening and then softening — a softening so fast and so complete that my knees nearly buckled from it.
I stood in the doorway. My carry-on behind me. My hair a mess from the flight. My eyes red. My dress wrinkled.
"Where is he?” My voice cracked. Small.
Louisa set the spoon down. She crossed the kitchen. Her face changing with every step — the softness hardening into something fiercer, something protective, something that looked like a mother seeing her child come home hurt. She stopped in front of me. Her hands found my face.
"He's gone, sweetheart." Her voice gentle. Steady. "Australia. He left two weeks ago."
My legs gave out.
My knees just stopped holding. I grabbed the doorframe. My hand white on the wood. My chest caving in. A sound came out of me — a gasp, or a sob, or both — and the room blurred, the floor tilted, and my other hand found the frame and I hung there in the doorway of a house I'd walked away from.
Callie was up first. Her chair scraping back. Her hand on my arm — steady, firm. "Come sit down. Come on." She guided me to the table. To Hunter's chair. I sat in it, and the wood was warm, and the cushion held a shape that wasn't mine, and my hands were flat on the table, and I was shaking.
Louisa crouched in front of me. Her knees on the kitchen floor. Her hands on my face — her palms warm, her fingers curving around my jaw, her thumbs on my cheekbones. Her eyes close to mine. Brown and steady and wet at the edges.
"Breathe, Jessica. He's not gone, gone. He's traveling. He's okay."
"I left him." My voice breaking. My chin trembling against her palms. "I left him, Louisa. I got on a plane and I —"
"I know." Her thumbs moving on my cheekbones. Her voice cracking on the word. "I know you did. But you came back."
Maggie put a glass of water in front of me. Her hand lingered on my shoulder — a squeeze, firm. Ivy's fingers found the back of my neck and pressed. Stephanie slid closer on the bench, and her hand found mine under the table and held it — tight, her rings pressing into my fingers.
Owen was watching from the head of the table. His jaw set. His eyes on mine. He nodded once.
"Australia," I said. My hands around the water glass. "Where in Australia?"
"Townsville." Maggie. She was standing behind her chair with her phone already in her hand. Calm. Certain. "The Coral Sea. He's been diving the reef."
"How do you know —"
"Life360." She held up her phone. The screen showed a map — blue water, a green coastline, a small dot pulsing near a marina. "I put it on Hunter's phone before he left. He doesn't know." She paused. "Or he does, and he hasn't said anything, which is the same thing."
Ivy leaned back in her chair. A grin broke across her face — the first grin at the table since I'd walked through the door. "Maggie, you sneaky, amazing woman."
Maggie shrugged. "I had a feeling she'd come to her senses. I just didn't know when."
I laughed. A real laugh. Wet and cracked, and the first one in weeks.
Clay leaned forward. His elbows on the table. His eyes on mine. He hadn't spoken since I walked in. His jaw tight. His brow low. But his eyes — his eyes were warm underneath the tight.
"Jessica." His voice low. "I love you. You know that. This family loves you. You walked in that door, and every person at this table was glad to see you."
I nodded. My eyes filling again.
"But I need to say something, and I need you to hear it.
" He paused. "My brother has the biggest heart of any man I've ever known.
He's quiet about it. He doesn't show it the way the rest of us do.
But that heart — the one you're chasing across the Pacific — you nearly broke it, Jessica. You nearly broke it clean in half."
My chin trembled. My hands tightened on the water glass.
"He sat at this table three weeks ago and told us things he'd never told anyone.
About the books. About the dreaming. About all the years he stayed because he thought leaving would let us down.
" Clay's voice was rough. His eyes bright.
"And he told us about you. And what you were to him.
And I watched my brother — my quiet, steady, unbreakable brother — sit in that chair you're sitting in and crack open. "
The table was silent. My tears were running. I didn't wipe them.
"So when you find him —" Clay's jaw worked. "You make damn sure you're staying. Don't go to him unless you mean it. Don't say the words unless you're going to live them. Because he will forgive you. He's already forgiven you. That's who he is. And he deserves someone who's not going to run again."
"I'm not running again." My voice raw. My eyes on his. “Clay, I'm not running."
He looked at me for a long time. His jaw working. Then he nodded. His eyes went wet.
"Okay." His voice cracked. "Then let's get you to Townsville."
The table erupted. Maggie was pulling up flights on her phone. Callie was asking about connecting airports. Ivy was googling the Coral Sea Hotel. Louisa put a plate of roast in front of me. My hands were shaking so hard the fork rattled against the plate.
"Eat," Louisa said. Her hand on my shoulder. Firm. "Then we plan."
I ate. The roast was warm, and the gravy was perfect, and my throat was so tight I could barely swallow, but I ate because Louisa had put the plate in front of me, and when Louisa put a plate in front of you, you ate.
Maisie looked up from her green beans. "Is Aunty Jess going on a plane to see Uncle Hunt?"
"Yeah, baby." Clay replied, his voice still rough. "She is."
"Tell him I said Horsey misses him."
My fork stopped. My eyes filled. My hand found my mouth. The table went soft around me — everyone's faces blurring, the laughter coming through warm and wet, and the sound of it pressing against my ribs.
Owen stood. Walked around the table. His hand found the back of my neck — firm, warm, his fingers pressing into the muscle. He held it. A long moment. His eyes on mine when I looked up at him. Steady. Sure.
"Go get him, Jessica."
Maggie found a flight — twenty-two hours, two connections, landing in Townsville Wednesday morning.
Callie wrote the hotel address on a napkin.
Ivy printed the marina location from Maggie's Life360.
The table buzzed — logistics and laughter and Maisie asking if Australia had bears and Clay telling her no but they had crocodiles and Maisie's eyes going wide and Callie kicking Clay under the table.
Clay pulled me aside at the front door. The porch was dark. The porch light was on. His face was close to mine, his hands were on my shoulders, and his eyes were red and serious.
"Bring him home," he said. "Both of you. Together."
He hugged me. Hard. His chin on the top of my head. He held on longer than Clay usually held on. When he let go his eyes were wet.
Louisa made up the spare room. Clean sheets. A towel on the bed. A glass of water on the nightstand. She stood in the doorway while I set my bag down.
"You need anything, sweetheart?"
"No. I —" My voice caught. "Thank you, Louisa. For not — for being —"
"You're family, Jessica." Her voice quiet. Her eyes steady. "You were family the day you came home the first time. Even before then. Coming back now doesn't change that. Nothing changes that."
She kissed my forehead. Her lips dry and warm. Her hand cupped the back of my head for a second. Then she was gone. Her footsteps in the hallway. The creak of her bedroom door.
I sat on the bed. The ranch was quiet around me — the settling of old wood, the distant movement of horses, the wind through the oaks. No sirens. No jazz.
I pulled Hunter's coffee mug out of my bag. The blue one. The chipped handle. I set it on the nightstand beside Louisa's water glass. The Post-it notes — pink, yellow, green. The Australia book against my chest.
My phone buzzed. Bobbie.
Did you find him?
He's in Australia. I'm at the ranch. I fly out tomorrow.
Go get him, Jessica Lee. And tell him Bobbie says hi and that the guest room better have an ensuite.
I laughed. A wet sound in the quiet room.
The porch light was on outside the window. Yellow. Steady. My flight left at six in the morning. I lay in the spare room of Blackwood Ranch with his coffee mug on the nightstand and the Australia book against my chest and the porch light glowing through the curtain and I waited for dawn.