Chapter 48
Chapter forty-eight
Izzy
His confession seeps into me, slowly at first, then flooding every corner of my being. My chest feels too full, my ribs too tight to contain everything that’s suddenly alive inside me. It’s not just the words—it’s the way he says them. The way his voice cracks, terrified and hopeful all at once.
The world blurs at the edges. The air between us is charged, like the seconds just before a storm breaks. My hand trembles as I reach for him, not because I’m unsure, but because I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.
His breath brushes my skin, and that’s it. The dam inside me breaks.
I rise onto my toes and softly press my lips against his.
It’s gentle at first—tentative—a question and an answer tangled together.
His hand finds my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear I didn’t know had fallen.
His other hand presses against my lower back and pulls me to him, deepening our connection.
The kiss feels like a sunrise—quiet, golden, and full of promise. Every apology, every ache, every almost between us burns away until there is just us—mouths, warmth, hearts beating together.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, both of us breathing hard. The world starts to take shape again—slowly, reluctantly—and all I can think is that if this is what forever feels like, I’ll wait for it a thousand times over.
So, I kiss him again, because I can. Because I want to. And when I finally manage to form words, my voice comes out quiet but sure.
“Now,” I whisper, brushing my thumb along his jaw, “you’re going to explain everything you drew to me.”
The sidewalk chalk covers my fingers. My knees ache from crouching beside the drawings, listening as Jaxon explains the memories tied to each of the pictures and lyrics. My throat burns, but not from tears—I’m too stunned to cry.
I don’t know how to explain the feeling of seeing your entire past spelled out in sidewalk chalk. Of watching someone lay every lyric, every quiet memory, every almost-love on the pavement like an apology and a promise at the same time.
And now he’s just…standing there. In front of me. Like he could be mine forever.
I throw my arms around him, letting my body sink into his the way I’ve been dying to since he left.
We hold each other for a long minute. Long enough for the tightness in my chest to loosen.
Long enough for the scent of him—soap, sweat, that faint something I realize now associates with safety—to slip past my defenses.
Then I pull back.
“Come on,” I say, nodding toward the porch.
Jaxon gives me a small, hopeful smile and follows me up the sidewalk to our front door.
We sit side by side on the top step, close but not touching. I wrap my arms around my knees, trying to keep the warmth of him at bay until I figure out what the hell to do with it.
“I meant all of it,” he says quietly. “The chalk. The words. Every line.”
I nod, eyes still on the street. “I know.”
Silence stretches between us.
Finally, he sighs. “The thing is—the songs, they never really were about you. Not at first. Not when we were just kids or when I first left. But somewhere along the way, your laugh worked its way into every chorus. Your words became the verses. Even when I didn’t say your name—I was still singing about you. ”
I close my eyes. Press my forehead to my knees.
“You want to know the moment I knew it was more?” he asks.
Still not looking at him, I say, “When you made me come?”
He lets out a chuckle. “No. Though top memory for sure. It was one of our songwriting nights. You were barefoot, your hair up in one of those messy buns, wearing that hoodie with the hole in the sleeve. You handed me that sandwich with potato chips crunched between the bread and grinned like you’d won a trophy.
” He exhales, long and slow. “And I remember thinking, God, I’d trade every award I’ve ever won to see her smile at me like that again. ”
I turn my head. Meet his eyes. They’re shining but steady.
“How do we make this work? Our lives aren’t the most compatible.”
He shakes his head. “My life is wherever you are, Iz.”
A lump forms in my throat.
I sit with that for a while, letting it settle between us like dust after a storm.
“When I heard at the wedding that you’d sold the farm early…” I trail off.
His face scrunches in confusion. Just slightly. Enough to make him look like the boy I used to know.
“I didn’t sell the farm. I decided to keep it. To lease it to Matt.”
I should’ve known better than to listen to gossip. “I’m so glad. But at the time, it felt like a sign that you weren’t coming back. I wanted to believe you, but…it felt like I was getting left behind. Again.”
“I didn’t mean to leave you,” he whispers. “Not then, and definitely not now.”
“I know,” I say, and for the first time, I think I actually do.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded, wrinkled sheet of paper. It’s smudged in places, like it’s been handled too many times. He hesitates, then passes it to me.
“Wrote it during HMA rehearsals. Couldn’t get it out of my head.”
I unfold it.
It’s lyrics. Raw. Messy. Real.
The first few lines are shaky. The kind of lines you only write when you’re hurting and not sure if anyone will ever hear them. But the last lines?
They’re perfect.
I left for the music. I’m staying for the girl.
I glance at him, my vision blurry now.
“I hate how good that is,” I say.
He laughs once, then presses his forehead against mine. “You inspire the best of me.”
I kiss him.
Because it’s real, even if not everything is fixed just yet. And maybe—for the first time—it’s enough.
We sit in that moment for a while, the quiet hum of cicadas rising around us like a soundtrack we didn’t plan for. His hand finds mine somewhere in the middle of all that stillness, and I don’t pull away.
“So what now?” I ask finally, our fingers laced.
He looks out at the chalk on the sidewalk.
“Now, I stay. For as long as you’ll have me.
I told the recording company I wouldn’t be able to make it to the studio for a while.
Or, at least, Henry is supposed to be telling them that today.
I haven’t heard from him. Maybe I’ll figure out a way to turn one of the barns here into a recording studio.
Or I’ll quit and just spend my days taking you out to dinner.
Or on real dates. Help out with the laundry and grocery store runs.
All the boring stuff. Except it won’t be boring because it will be with you. ”
I snort. “Right. You’re just going to give it all up.”
He runs his hand down the back of his neck, giving me a tight smile. “I mean, I’d rather have it all. I’d rather figure out a way to make it work with both you and my music, but the label isn’t going to like me pushing back the recording again, and I’m not willing to leave you behind.”
“You still don’t get it, do you?” I ask.
“What do you mean?”
“You could ask me to come.”
“What?”
“I’ve never wanted you to give up your dreams or your career for me.
I just want to be there with you, cheering from the front row.
But you’ve never asked. Not when you went to Nashville the first time, not when your career took off, and not now when you’re considering becoming a stay-at-home boyfriend in Wild Bluffs instead of the more obvious answer—asking me to come with you. ”
He runs a hand through his hair, the gesture so familiar it wraps around my heart like a warm embrace.
“So what if I asked you to come with me to Nashville? To record? We could figure it out together. I can bring you back here as much as you need to see your family and friends, as much as you need to for work.”
His words sink in, each syllable landing like a stone thrown into a still pond, ripples expanding until they reach the edges of everything I’ve built here.
The possibility coils tight in my chest, equal parts thrilling and terrifying.
It’s everything I thought I wanted, but now, faced with the decision to leave, it feels bigger.
“Jaxon,” I start, but he interrupts me, eyes fierce and earnest.
“I mean it, Iz. The days we spent apart this week proved just how hopelessly in love with you I am. I’ve known it for a while now, but when I wasn’t with you, everything felt dimmer, like someone turned off half the lights, and all I could do was keep moving forward despite the lack of colors.
I want you in my life. I need you by my side.
My career will likely require I spend a good portion of time in Nashville, but I already travel a lot.
And you could come with me. Please come with me? ”
He leans closer, our foreheads nearly touching, and I can feel the weight of his hope pressing against my skin like a prayer he’s too scared to say out loud.
“I love you, Isabel,” he repeats, voice barely above a whisper.
“I love you too,” I confess on a breath. My chest tightens. “But…what if it doesn’t work? What if you realize you’ve only known this version of me for six weeks, and it’s not actually what you want?”
“Then I’ll fight like hell to make it work,” he says. “But I know exactly who you are, Izzy. And I love every single part of you.”
I close my eyes. Try to ground myself. “What happens when you get your next big break? When your label demands another tour, or an album on a deadline? Are you going to ask me to stay behind again?”
He shakes his head quickly. “No. Never again. If you’ll come—I want you there. I’ll ask you every time.” His hand finds mine. “Please come with me. Wherever our dreams take us.”
I stare at our joined hands, focused on the promise in his words, the possibility he’s putting forward of us out there, chasing our wild, together.
My heart thuds, each beat a question. But my body already knows the answer.
I look up at him—hopeful, terrified, completely undone.
“Okay,” I whisper, meaning it.
His smile bursts forth like sunlight breaking through clouds. And in that moment, I believe him. I believe that we can weave our lives together.
“Good. Because I’m not letting you go this time.”
Without warning, he scoops me up into his arms, laughter bubbling from my lips as he carries me into the house. The world around us blurs, the memories of old intertwining with the new ones being forged in this moment.
As he kicks the door open, I’m still giggling, caught in an exhilarating whirlwind of emotions. He sets me down just inside, and the laughter fades when he leans in, capturing my mouth with his.
The kiss is electric, igniting every nerve ending I possess. I melt into him, feeling the heat radiate from his body, the way his hands settle at my waist, grounding me even as I float.
When he pulls back, breathless, I can see the hunger in his eyes, layered beneath the tenderness. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” he murmurs.
I grin, feeling bold. “You mean since the last time I was in your arms?”
“Exactly.” He lowers his lips to my neck, trailing soft kisses along my collarbone that send shivers racing down my spine. I lose myself in the sensation, fingers tangling in his hair as he deepens the kiss, every doubt falling away, leaving behind only desire.
I push him toward my room where the remnants of our past linger in the air, but the promise of our future hangs like a song waiting for its final note.
Before I know it, we find ourselves tumbling onto the bed, the length of his body pressing into me, comforting me like a weighted blanket.
“I’m never letting you go,” he whispers in my ear as he slides my shorts down and grazes my sensitive flesh with his knuckle.
“Never,” I agree on a deep sigh.
His kisses grow more urgent as we move together, lost to everything except the movement of our bodies. He continues to play with me, my clit, my nipples, my channel until I break apart.
Then, as if he can’t control himself, he flips me over and slams into me from behind, his length bottoming out in the most torturous of ways. He snakes his hand around me, playing with me, and my body responds, somehow ready to go again.
As Jaxon continues to explore and stretch my body, my fears and doubts fade away, the room filling with music—a symphony of love that's been playing beneath the surface all along.