Chapter 16 #3
“I don’t even know anymore. It’s hard to explain.
I love coaching and seeing these kids turn into young men.
I even like doing home repairs. I’m good at it, and I like being the person people know they can depend on when they need something.
It’s…” He lets out a sigh that sounds like it comes from the bottom of his soul, and there’s so much pain in it, I feel it deep inside me.
“I didn’t think this is where I’d be in my life.
Sometimes it’s easier to put that blame on other people than it is to deal with it myself. ”
“Woof.” I peel my gaze away from him and stare unseeing at the stars above. “I can’t tell if you’re talking about yourself or attacking me.”
“Attacking you?”
“I’m not sure if you know this or not,” I say. “But leaving everything I knew, moving into a house sight unseen, and starting over at thirty wasn’t exactly my childhood dream.”
“Not even in a thriving metropolis like Celestial?” He rolls over and nudges my shoulder with his. It’s the barest hint of contact and it twists my insides into knots.
“Shocking, I know.” I hope he can’t hear the nerves in my voice.
“Well, I’m glad you’re here,” he says. “And not just because you have my boys so hyped up to run laps every day that this is the best they’ve looked leading up to the season in years.”
I couldn’t stop my smile if I tried.
“It’s been mutually beneficial. I might be an adult, but running in front of an audience made up of teenage boys has definitely increased my pace,” I admit. “The last thing I need is for them to aim their brutal one-liners at me instead of Matt.”
The pinpoint precision with which teenagers can locate your deepest insecurity and deliver a flawlessly executed burn should be examined in scientific studies.
Like, you mean to tell me that you forgot a cleat at home for practice, but with one glance knew that joking about my ankles and kneecaps would cut the deepest? How?
“Matt loves it,” he says. “You can’t be a coach, an actual, good coach, if you can’t handle a little ribbing from the boys. Coaches with precious egos are in it for themselves and shouldn’t be out there in the first place.”
He’s still trying to sound light, but I can hear the change in his voice. When I look over, his shoulders have inched up toward his ears and his long fingers are curled into fists.
“Adults are usually the ones who ruin things for the kids.” I want to reach out and grab his hand, but I keep mine tucked studiously at my side instead. “The kids are lucky to have you.”
“I wouldn’t go all the way to lucky,” he says. “I do hope they know I want what’s best for them.”
I’m no more than a casual observer, but even I can see that the respect between the players and coaches is very much mutual. The boys love to give Tate a hard time, but when push comes to shove—or tackle—they latch on to every word that comes out of his mouth.
“They do.”
He lifts his chin in response, almost as if doing any more to accept the compliment might physically pain him. Interesting.
A comfortable quiet falls between us. The warm breeze rustles the tall grass rising high around our blanket. Birds sleep while the bugs sing into the night, my muscles falling heavy as I listen to the quiet symphony between them.
My eyelids begin to droop, but I’m not ready to fall asleep.
I’m not ready for this night to end.
“Can I ask you a question?”
He rolls to his side, looking at me through the dark night. “Anything.”
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to.
” I preface the question with the permission I doubt he needs.
“I know something happened with you, maybe with Silas, maybe your dad. We know people talk, but I’d rather just ask you now than hear it from someone else so we don’t have a repeat of the other night. ”
I decide to leave out the part about Millie shaming me after refusing to share the gossip with me. He doesn’t need to know about that.
“I really am surprised nobody told you.” His earnest voice is devoid of the sarcasm I thought I’d hear. “I swear, people used to talk about me so much that I thought they’d add their version of my story to the town website.”
“There’s still a chance,” I tell him. “The website looks like it hasn’t been updated since 2007.”
There was even a ticker on the bottom counting how many views the page had gotten. It was like taking a step back in technological time.
“I’m pretty sure Mr. Briglia put it up, so that tracks,” he says. “He was an asshole and never wanted to share information or credit. He died, like, eleven years ago, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he took the log-in information to his grave.”
I want to laugh, but we are talking about another person’s passing and that seems insensitive…even if the story of how he lived his life before his untimely death is, objectively, very funny. “Sounds like he left quite the legacy.”
“That’s one way to say it,” he says before going quiet again.
I could kick myself for asking.
I don’t know why I expected him to tell me more about his life than he already has.
Sure, taking me out here was a nice gesture, but I can’t make more of it than it really is.
Despite his best efforts to convince the masses otherwise, Tate Jacobs is a nice guy.
He saw that I was out of sorts tonight and he came to check on me.
I think it’s safe to say that what started with him being an acquaintance who was forced to spend time with me, thanks to my disaster of a house, has turned into a friendship.
I should be satisfied with that. Wanting anything more would be greedy.
“The ranch has been in our family for six generations.” His deep voice startles me out of my quiet reverie and my body goes stock-still.
“The Jacobses were one of the first families to settle here. My great-great-great-grandma had a small inheritance. When she married, she trusted my great-great-great-grandpa to invest wisely and he did. He bought this land, and we’ve been fighting to not only keep it going but growing ever since. ”
“Silas told me some of the history earlier.” Not the part about it being funded by a woman, though, which makes this entire operation that much more impressive. “Your family has done an amazing job.”
“Yeah.” He nods. “They have. But I haven’t.”
I feel my eyebrows scrunch together. “What do you mean?”
“I’m proud of my family and our history, but…fuck.” He takes a breath and scrubs a hand down his frustrated face. “I don’t know how to talk about this without sounding like a petulant asshole.”
“Tate.” I roll onto my side so I can look right at him.
“I’m not sure if you’re aware of this or not, but I’m a literal disaster.
You’re talking to a person who quit her job, ran away from home, and then immediately sunk thousands of dollars into a house without reading through the inspection.
If there is anyone who can’t judge you, it’s me. ”
His soft chuckle washes over me like a cool shower on a hot day. My toes curl knowing I’m the reason for that beautiful sound coming out of his even more beautiful mouth.
“You aren’t a disaster, but I appreciate you trying to make me feel better.
” He either lies or greatly underestimates me.
“Starlight Ridge Ranch is the cornerstone of the community here. Everyone loves it, and they can’t understand that while it’s been my family’s dream for over a century, it’s never been mine. ”
The words tumble out of his mouth like he’s admitting some dirty secret and not expressing a completely reasonable feeling anyone in his position might have, but once he gets started, he can’t stop.
“I love this place, but I don’t love the expectations.
I don’t love that my dad acts like I’m betraying my family for wanting something else or that he was offended by my success away from the ranch.
I hate that Silas and I used to be inseparable but now I barely know him.
I hate that in trying to prove I didn’t need this place, I ruined everything. ”
He stops talking and I stop breathing. I don’t know what to say or if there’s even anything to say. I don’t want to spook him if he wants to tell me more, but I can’t let him lie less than a foot away from me and not do anything.
I scoot toward him, closing the space between us inch by inch. Slow enough that he could stop me, but not so slow that I talk myself out of it. His onyx eyes rival the endless night skies, but even with only the light of the moon glimmering down, I can still see them—feel them—on me.
I reach out a tentative hand, and when my pinky brushes against his, I feel like I’m thirteen again.
It’s the barest of touches, but I feel it in every corner of my body.
The breath I was holding leaves me in a whoosh and my head starts to swim.
His muscular arm slips behind my back, and with a tenderness I didn’t know was possible for a man as big and tough as him, he tucks me into his side and links his other hand with mine.
The heat sticks to our skin, and trees in full bloom rustle nearby.
Crickets chirp and Cygnus, my favorite summer constellation, winks in the clear sky.
Reminders of summer are all around us, but under his touch, my body is springtime.
Butterflies take flight in my stomach as goose bumps blossom across my skin and giddy vines climb my spine.
Like after the longest winter, his hands have ushered in the warmth I forgot existed.
“I don’t think you’re wrong for wanting more.” My voice is thick with want…with need. “And even if you’re not where you thought you’d be, I’m glad you’re here.”
“Yeah,” he whispers, so close to me that I can feel his breath against my skin. “For the first time in a long time, I’m glad I’m here too.”
I look into his eyes, part of me wanting his mouth on me more than I want the sun to rise in the east, the other part of me desperate to etch this perfect moment into the deepest parts of my memory. Holding tight to the innocence of our hands tangled together and whispered secrets forever.
The growing ache between my legs might not appreciate it, but when Tate points to the Big Dipper, I know he feels the gravity of tonight too.
Just when I think I can’t keep my eyes open any longer, it finally happens.
The shooting star flashes above me, like a quiet nod from my mom telling me that no matter how I got here, I’m exactly where I’m meant to me.
And then, on a blanket atop a sea of grass, below an ocean of glittering stars, I drift to sleep in Tate’s arms with no fear of tomorrow and the promise of days to come.