Chapter 39
Chapter thirty-nine
Jaxon
“We. Are. Celebrating!” I yell as I walk into Izzy’s house on Thursday without even bothering to knock.
Despite what she suggested the other night and the very real possibility that my life won’t slow down—that I won’t be able to come back to Wild Bluffs for a while once this sale is over—I’ve doubled down on the boyfriend thing.
Texting constantly? Done.
Lunch drop-offs at the office? Check.
Kissing her anytime I see her—plus the occasional ass grab? Guilty and not sorry.
But to be fair, her ass is very grab-worthy.
And also, this over-the-top boyfriend behavior is how I happened to be sitting in her office when the email from W&R Mercantile finally came through.
They got it.
Of course they did.
So yeah. We’re celebrating.
Izzy peeks out from the hallway, brow furrowed. “Are you yelling at me or the neighbors at the end of the block?”
“Both,” I say, kicking the door closed behind me. “But mostly you.”
Izzy steps out into the light, hair half-up and eyes wide. She looks flushed and unsure. Adorable. My stomach flips.
“I googled what to bring when someone lands a life-changing contract, and, I’m not going to lie, not one single thing I saw was available last minute in Wild Bluffs. So, I’m taking you out to dinner at Wild Bluffs Country Club.”
All it’d taken was one text to Bryn to get access to the private course twenty minutes outside of town.
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I say, grabbing her hand and spinning her in a ridiculous dance move. “You, on the other hand, officially crushed your first solo client pitch.”
She lets out a laugh and walks to the door to slide on a pair of sandals. “It’s not that big of a deal.”
“Maybe not for you. But for mere mortals like the rest of us, it’s a huge deal. So we’re celebrating—hugely.”
Her cheeks pinken, and as soon as we walk outside, I give her a kiss, pulling her fully against me. “The neighbors were watching,” I say, vaguely gesturing toward a house across the street. “We have to keep up the ruse and all.”
Izzy bites her lip as if she’s trying to hold back a laugh.
“What?” I ask.
“They’re out of town all month.”
I look at the house. “Burglars. Only answer.”
Nodding at my security team for the night, we climb into my rented SUV, and I reach across the console to wrap Izzy’s hand in mine.
We chat during the ride to the restaurant, Izzy’s happiness permeating every layer of my skin.
I keep hold of her hand as we navigate the stairs leading up to the restaurant, pretending it’s for her safety.
When we finally sit at our table, the feeling doesn’t stop, even when Izzy pretends to gag when I order their most expensive bottle of champagne.
“To Izzy and her badass business skills,” I say, when the drinks are finally poured.
“To overpriced bubbles shared with friends,” she adds.
We clink.
She takes a sip, then another. Her smile widens as the walls she tried to put up a few days ago fall.
By the time we finish our food, we’re both a little giggly, halfway through a conversation about what songs make us cry.
“Okay,” she says, tipping her glass toward me. “What’s yours?”
“Easy,” I say. “‘Fast Car’ by Tracy Chapman.”
She makes a sound in the back of her throat. “Yes. All the feels.”
“Reminds me of wanting to leave this town so bad I could barely breathe.”
Her expression flickers, and I instantly regret saying it.
She sets down her glass. “Jax...can I ask you something?”
I nod.
“Did you ever think of me once you left? Because I don’t think I could’ve ever made the decision to stop talking to you. Shit, even once you did leave, it took me six months to finally take the hint.”
“Of course I did.” I run my fingers through my hair, trying to figure out how to explain this to her.
“It crushed my soul to leave you behind, but I knew I had to do it. But I never forgot about you. I never stopped caring what you would think of me. The number of times I had conversations in my head with you to help me decide what to do is, frankly, a little bit concerning for my mental health.”
She doesn’t smile, and I would give anything to get back to the place we were just minutes ago—even if I know we need to have this conversation.
Izzy shakes her head. “That’s easy for you to say now. But as far as I can tell, you forgot about me the minute you walked away from this town.”
I swallow. Then I roll up my sleeve.
“You want proof? Look at this.”
She leans in, squinting at the inside of my elbow. “How does your Chinese symbol that probably says ‘dumb American’ prove anything?”
I laugh. “It’s not a Chinese symbol. That’s just what I tell people because telling them the truth is too complicated. It’s an I and a J. Hooked together in the shape of a friendship symbol.”
Her eyes trace the lines. They widen as she sees it. The traditional quasi-infinity symbol with long tails is altered just slightly, the left side looping into an I while the right side is slightly compressed to make a J.
“And…I’m the…I?”
“I never forgot about you, Iz. I am so sorry I left you the way I did. I have no excuse for it except that I was young and dumb and knew that if I told you or if I called you back, you’d convince me to come home.
But you were important to me. And in my dumb, twenty-year-old brain, this was the only way to keep you close without coming back. ”
She’s quiet.
“I didn’t want you to give up your dreams,” she finally whispers. “I may have tried to convince you to stay and finish high school, but then I would’ve helped you. I would’ve been your biggest fan.”
The thirty-three-year-old version of me knows that’s probably true. But hindsight and age are luxuries our past mistakes are never afforded. “I know that now. But, at the same time, I’m not sure I can regret it.”
She jerks back, her eyes widening as she visibly leans away from me.
I hold up my hand. “Not like that. I regret the way I treated you, but…if I hadn’t left…then we may never have ended up here. We might still be best friends and nothing more. And now that I’ve gotten more of you, there’s no ending to this that will make me wish for anything different.”
The silence stretches between us.
Then she lifts her hand and brushes her thumb over the tattoo. Her fingers trail up my forearm, and my heartbeat skips entirely.
We sit there for a long beat, barely breathing.
“High school me would never have guessed we’d be here,” she says.
“And honestly? I don’t think that even if these feelings had developed on their own, that I would’ve been brave enough to act on them. I wouldn’t have wanted to risk what we had. Though, I guess I did that anyway.”
Izzy picks at the leftover food on her plate, and I remain silent, letting us both digest everything that’s been said.
“You want to go for a drive?” I ask. “I want to show you something.”
We pay quickly, and after a glance at the champagne bottle to confirm how much I’ve had to drink, we jump in my car and head toward Wild Bluffs, the black car my security team uses keeping pace behind us. We pass cornfields and pastures full of grazing cattle as I drive.
The sky is streaked with oranges and lavender. Izzy tucks her feet up in the passenger seat and glances at me like she’s trying to memorize something.
I park just outside the large metal Quonset my dad used to store his grain, the silver reflecting the last rays of sunlight back at us.
“Do you remember this place?”
“The building that we would run amok in anytime we came out to the farm with your dad?” Izzy asks skeptically. “Or where I’d kick your butt in basketball with that hoop I sat on your shoulders to install?”
She laughs when I attempt to grab her. “Yeah, I have a memory or two here,” she confesses.
“Okay, asshole. But do you remember when I brought you out here the night I got my first guitar? You were the first person I ever played for.”
She smiles. “Yeah. I said you were going to be a famous rock star.”
“And you were wrong. Nobody considers country singers rock stars.”
Izzy laughs, and my insides suddenly fill with champagne bubbles. “You’re so pop, you’re barely even country.”
I gasp in mock outrage. “How dare you, Isabel Harper.”
“Just admit I was right.”
Grabbing her around her waist, I pull her to me, wrapping her tightly in my arms. “You were,” I whisper against her neck. “And you’re going to be a big deal, too, Iz. That contract is only the beginning.”
She turns her face toward me. “I don’t want to be a big deal.”
I scrunch my face in confusion. This entire week has been about her getting this client—the one who would allow her and Becca to grow their business.
She must see my expression because she continues, “I just want to be enough, Jax. I don’t need to be famous or rich or any of those things. I just want to feel like I’m not letting down the people around me.”
I pull back just far enough to see her face.
“Izzy,” I say, brushing her hair behind her ear, “you’ve always been enough.
Without this contract. Without your business.
You’re smart, and scrappy, and kind in a way that sneaks up on people.
You care so hard you forget to take care of yourself.
And you work harder than anyone I’ve ever met—on your business, on your friendships, on everything. ”
Her breath hitches, but I keep going.
“And you’re beautiful, Iz. Not just cute or okay-looking.
I mean stop-a-man’s-heart stunning with your eyes the shade of the freshly tilled earth and your completely kissable bottom lip.
But honestly, it’s the way your mind works that undoes me.
The way you speak the truth without it hurting others.
The way you manage the moods of those around you with jokes and diversions and questions. ”
I cup her cheek. “You are already everything. Anyone who doesn’t see that doesn’t deserve you. But I see it. I see you.”
She tilts her head up, slowly, eyes wide and glassy.
And then she kisses me.
It starts soft. Sweet.
But it deepens quickly, like everything we finally said today is pouring out between us.
And by the time we pull apart, breathless and dazed, her hands are in my hair and my fingers are gently circling the place where her ass meets her legs.
We sit on the hood of my car until the stars come out. We talk about nothing. About everything. Our fingers stay entwined, but we never once talk about what this is.