Chapter 35 #2
He looks familiar, but I can’t place where I know him from. His dark-blond hair is on the longer side, and he’s wearing a deep-red flannel button up, dark blue jeans cuffed at the ankles, and combat boots. The man looks like somebody who belongs outdoors. Like he chops wood for hobby.
I lean toward Chesney and whisper in his ear, “Who is that?”
Giving the guy another quick glance, he huffs a small chuckle. “Matty Tinsley. His mother was my mom’s best friend.”
The name doesn’t ring a bell. “Did he used to live here? I feel like I’ve seen him before.”
Chesney nods. “You probably have. His dad owned that old hunting store on Beufort that’s now a tattoo shop. He’s Truett’s age; they went to school together until middle school when his family moved a couple towns over.”
A light goes off in my head. “Oh, yeah. I remember him now. Damn, him and Truett are still friends?”
“His family came to Dad’s funeral,” he says. “They stayed in touch after.”
“Well, it’s nice that he’s here.”
After Truett introduces him to everyone, he grabs a beer from the fridge and joins him in the living room until dinner’s done.
It’s not long before we’re sitting around the table, dishing up. It’s a tight squeeze, fitting six people at a table meant for four, but we make it work. There’s entirely too much food, and it’s all incredible. I’m stuffed by the time we finish, but still manage to throw back a piece of pie.
Halfway through dessert, Truett raises his glass. The room quiets, all eyes on him. Looking around, he says, “Last Thanksgiving, I spent it right here with my dad.”
I squeeze Chesney’s hand as he listens to his brother.
“He carved the turkey, like he did every year. That man was serious about his turkey.” Truett chuckles, and so does Chesney.
“He would’ve hated us getting sentimental, but I think he also would’ve loved seeing this table today.
He would’ve loved Chesney being back home.
Mom too. She would’ve gotten teary eyed at everyone here, and she especially would’ve been over the moon about cooking for a full house.
“This past year has been a lot. Some days, I didn’t know how I’d ever get through it.
But I did.” He looks directly at me and Chesney now.
His eyes are soft and full of emotion. “Between Dad’s last months, the construction, the ranch, just having you two here, I haven’t said it enough. Thank you. You gave me hope again.”
Truett reaches over and squeezes his brother’s shoulder.
“You would’ve done the same,” Chesney says softly.
“I know.” He smiles. “But I’m still grateful. I know what it meant for you to come back. How hard it was for you. And Jasper, thank you for breathing life back into my brother again. It’s been too damn long since I’ve seen him this happy.”
My throat tightens, and I don’t say anything because I don’t trust my voice to not crack.
Matty raises his glass. “To second chances.”
Everyone echoes the toast, even if nobody says anything afterward. Some things don’t need explaining.
Later, after dishes are washed and pie somehow makes a second appearance, I find Chesney standing alone on the back porch.
The air is bitter cold and the clouds look a lot like snow in the near future.
Fall was unusually warm, but it’s finally cold enough to remind us winter is right around the corner.
“Everything okay?” I ask, stepping beside him.
He glances at me and nods, slipping his hands into his jacket pockets. “Just thinking.”
“Good thinking, or bad thinking?”
Chesney smiles and bumps my shoulder. “Good.”
Something in my chest warms, and relief floods my system.
The porch light glows softly above us, and the wind blows gently, rustling through the trees in the distance. Inside, I can hear Magnolia laughing at something Wade said. It sounds like home. A home I haven’t experienced in a while.
My heart pounds as I reach into my pocket, closing my hand around what’s hidden inside. “I’ve got something for you,” I murmur.
His eyebrows raise. “Yeah? You’re a little early for Christmas presents.”
I breathe out a small laugh, then pull out a small, wrapped box. It’s nothing fancy; just brown paper and twine. “A Thanksgiving present.” A smile tugs at the corner of my mouth as I shrug. “New tradition.”
Taking the box, genuine confusion wrinkles his forehead. “I didn’t get you—”
“You didn’t need to.”
Chesney unwraps it carefully, opens the box, then sucks in a sharp breath. A single key rests inside, and for a long moment, he just stares at it. Not moving, not saying anything. Then, slowly, he lifts his gaze. “Jasper…”
“I’ve been thinking. My house…” Taking a deep breath, I swallow around the lump in my throat and glance toward the valley where it sits.
“It stopped feeling like just my house a while ago. It feels empty when you’re not there.
” Chesney’s expression softens, and the words roll off my tongue easier now.
“On the days you’re here, I always catch myself waiting for your truck, or wanting to make enough coffee for two.
My bed feels too big and cold when it’s just me. ”
Chesney’s eyes glisten as he looks down at the key again, then back at me. “So, what are you saying?”
I laugh quietly, my cheeks hot despite the frigid temperatures around us. “I’m asking…” My voice cracks. “Chesney Jennings, I’m asking if you’ll move in with me. You don’t have to answer tonight, but it’s something I would love if you’re ready.”
Just like when I told him I loved him for the first time, his mouth crashes into mine, and he kisses me hard enough to make my mind fuzzy and my body warm. When we finally come up for air, Chesney’s smiling, and there’re tears in his eyes.
Closing his hand around the key, he looks me in the eye, and a shiver rolls down my spine that has nothing to do with the air. “I’d love to move in.”
My heart gallops, and my smile is beaming. “Yeah?”
“Absolutely.”
Chesney glances through the kitchen window. I follow his gaze, finding everyone gathered around the table playing cards. Truett. Wade. Magnolia. Matty, who somehow managed to fit right in without even trying. Family. Old and new.
My chest squeezes as I realize we’re finally building the life we were always meant to live. For most of my life, I believed tragedy destroys everything good. But it looks like it has a funny way of putting everything back together again.
“I love you,” I say softly, lacing my fingers through Chesney’s.
His eyes meet mine, the same ocean blues I fell in love with twenty years ago. “I love you, Jasper Smith.”
We head inside, toward the warmth, and the laughter, and the family we’ve built waiting around the table.
Toward home.
The End.