17
One day passed, and then another, and before Jake knew it, final exams were over. He checked his phone on his last day of work before winter break, finding nothing from Lexie, as usual. It had been two weeks—fourteen days—since he’d stood in the driveway of his parents’ house and begged her not to go. Two weeks since she’d left him behind like an old teddy bear damp from the rain. Two weeks of silence that weighed heavy on his soul.
In a moment of weakness, he forgot to watch where his feet were taking him, forgot to avoid the paths where he was likely to find her, and looked up to find himself standing in front of her empty desk, her computer already shut down and her materials stacked neatly away. There was a dust-free rectangle in the back corner where a picture frame had once rested, the photo of them now tucked away who-knew-where.
“Julie?” he asked, the word coming out before he could stop it.
“Yes, Jake?” Lexie’s boss replied from her office nearby.
“Where’s Lexie?”
“Oh, she took off after her last exam—said she’s going to the mountains with some girlfriends,” Julie said.
Jake turned toward Julie’s office and saw her look up with a funny look on her face.
“You didn’t know?” she asked, a crease forming between her eyes.
“No, I didn’t know,” Jake mumbled, looking down at Lexie’s empty chair. He didn’t know anything these days. He’d been waiting in suspended animation, hoping to hear from her, but her life had been moving forward. She’d been planning trips, leaving town, enjoying herself... all while he was curled in a ball like a bear in hibernation, conserving his energy and waiting for the ice to thaw.
In the end, there was nothing left for him to say. No words he hadn’t already used, no grand gestures he hadn’t already made. Lexie had washed their slate clean, clearing him away as easily as wiping frost from a windowpane, not even bothering to say goodbye.
And that hurt worst of all.
“I still can’t believe it cost over a hundred dollars just to park my car at the airport. We could have stayed another night in Jackson Hole for that amount!” Olivia complained, shouldering open the door of their apartment and dropping her bags on the floor with a thud.
Lexie wandered in behind her, stepping over her friend’s mountain of luggage and rolling her own suitcase down the hall.
“You’ve said that about a thousand times since we got on I-40.”
“Well, it’s still true!” Olivia said, throwing her hands in the air. “Although, I’ve had my fill of dirty taxis. Can you believe Robin wanted to go home with that driver who picked us up from the ski lodge? The police would have found her in somebody’s freezer.” She shuddered dramatically, and Lexie rolled her eyes.
“It was a great trip. Let’s focus on that part,” she said.
“Was it, though?” Olivia continued as she followed Lexie toward her bedroom. “Because you’re still in the same funk you’ve been in for weeks now.”
Lexie hauled her heavy bag up onto her bed and unzipped the top. “I’ll be fine, Liv. I am fine. Just leave it alone.”
“You keep saying that, but I don’t think I believe you.”
Lexie ignored her friend, instead opting to start the process of unpacking. She began sorting through the clothing in her suitcase, putting still-clean clothes on the bed and dropping what needed to be washed on the floor near her feet.
“Just call him, Lex,” Olivia finally said, breaking the heavy silence. “If it’s this bad, just call him. It’s been almost three weeks; you’ve punished yourself enough.”
“It’s not that easy,” Lexie muttered as she looked up. But Olivia had already drifted back down the hall, leaving Lexie alone with her thoughts.
She’d thought walking away from Jake would be like walking away from every other broken relationship she’d ever had. She’d thought it would sting for a few days before fading into a dull ache that gradually dissipated as she lost herself in other things. But burying herself in final exams hadn’t helped. Flying across the country and spending four days in the Rocky Mountains hadn’t helped. Even forcing herself to flirt with strangers hadn’t helped.
Nothing would erase the memory of Jake’s warmth leaving her skin as he’d let go that last time or the blank look on his face as she’d driven away. She’d done her best to make him see that she wasn’t what he wanted, that she wouldn’t fit into his life the way he needed her to, and, apparently, it had worked. He’d stood there and let her go, and she hadn’t heard from him since.
It was the silence that really got to her—the gap that now felt unbridgeable. She’d picked up her phone so many times to share a story or send a photo from her trip only to remember that she’d thrown their friendship out with the bathwater. Just like always, she had ruined everything.
But she’d kept him from wasting his life on her, and that was what really mattered.
Her hand closed over the sleeve of a faded red sweatshirt near the bottom of her large suitcase, and her chest tightened. She pulled it out with care, and her heart fell as Olivia’s high school crest came into view. This wasn’t what she’d thought it was. Of course it wasn’t. Jake’s hoodie was still buried in her smaller weekend bag, the one she’d stuffed into her closet the moment she’d returned from Tanner Farm. She’d only removed the bare necessities, choosing to leave the rest of that memory tucked away where she wouldn’t have to look at it.
Just one second...her mind taunted, urging her toward her closet. Just one look. Just see if it still smells like him. Just check, then you can put it back...
Lexie eased her closet door open and rummaged behind her hamper for the crumpled duffel, pulling it out by the straps. She sat cross-legged on the carpet of her bedroom floor and slowly removed several soft sweaters and a pair of old jeans. But instead of finding what she was looking for, her fingers brushed against something hard along the bottom of the bag.
It was a box. A flat, white box, maybe eight inches square and tied with a wide, green ribbon. The front was plain except for two words in a familiar scrawl.
For you.
Lexie’s fingers hovered over the gift, and she paused for a moment, frozen in both fear and anticipation. Whatever this was, it was from before. She took a long breath and let the satin ribbon slide between her fingers. Finally, she tugged it free, lifted the box’s lid and pulled out a white photo album with the letter L etched into the cover in curling script. She opened it with shaking hands and took a sharp breath, looking down at what had to be the worst picture ever taken of her.
She recognized it immediately. It was one Jake had snapped while testing his camera before an interview. Her eyes were crossed, and her neck was bent at an odd angle, her tongue sticking out to one side as she did her best to distract him.
Lexie cocked her head, confused. Why had he kept such a terrible photo? She turned the page, and on the back of the image she found Jake’s handwriting.
You are hilarious.
Lexie swallowed past the lump in her throat as she traced the letters with her eyes. She could hear him beside her, laughing as he had that day, his face full of affection. He was still just her friend back then; he had always been her friend. Even when she’d felt most alone, Jake had always been there.
Her eyes jumped to the second photo, which showed her holding up a local newspaper and pointing to an article that held her byline. She was beaming.
You are talented, the back said.
She flipped through page after page, finding pictures of herself working at her desk, catching her first fish, and twirling through the autumn sunshine. In some, she was smiling; in others, she was deep in thought. In another, she was clearly angry, though now she couldn’t remember why. One captured her dismay after an acorn had fallen directly into her smoothie. Another showed her looking straight up, probably into the bell tower.
They all had something written on the back.
You are incredible.
You are brilliant.
You are beautiful.
You are more than enough.
The words swam in front of her as her vision blurred, tears running freely down her cheeks. She turned to the last image, which held none of Jake’s usual finesse. It wasn’t professionally focused or balanced. It wasn’t even well lit. Instead, it was dark with the harsh glow of a television in the background. The iconic car from the Ghostbusters movie sat frozen on screen as Jake looked up into his cell phone camera, an ironic smile on his face. Barely visible was Lexie, her head nestled against the crook of his neck where she’d fallen asleep.
She turned the page with trembling hands and found a longer entry printed on the back.
Lex, I always thought the girl of my dreams would love Ghostbusters marathons as much as I do. But guess what? You’re not that girl.
You’re even better.
Love, Jacob
Lexie’s hand flew to her mouth to stifle a sob as she remembered the words she’d thrown in his face on that last day.
“... they don’t know me, and neither do you. ... You know an imaginary version of me. ... you’ve just got your head in the clouds...”
She couldn’t believe how wrong she’d been. Jake knew her. He saw her—all of her—the way nobody else ever had. And he loved her anyway.
Lexie took a shuddering breath and wiped the tears from her cheeks with the palms of her hands, suddenly filled with a singular sense of purpose. She’d always hoped to find someone who would fight for her, but maybe love was about more than that. Maybe it was about finding someone who was worth fighting for in the first place.
She rose to her feet and hurried toward her desk, where she ripped a blank sheet of paper from the printer tray. Then, she uncapped a pen and began to write.
“So, why are you here again? I usually get the house to myself over breaks,” Noah said as he came in from work.
Jake didn’t look up from where he lay sprawled on the stained couch, one leg hung over an armrest and the other trailing toward the floor. He rolled his jaw irritably, flipping the television from a sitcom rerun to an NFL game where the linemen were facing off in a flurry.
“Because I got sick of being at home and having everybody hover over me. If I have to listen to Grandma Ruby talk about snow and choices and patience for one more second, I’m going to explode,” he snapped, changing the channel again.
“Okay, still in the angst phase. Got it,” Noah muttered. He shrugged out of his thick jacket and tossed it over the back of a kitchen chair. “So, have you thought about dinner at all? Want to order a pizza?”
Jake grunted noncommittally, still staring at the television.
“Fine, then I’m putting everything on it, and you don’t get to complain,” Noah said as he kicked his shoes into a corner near the back door.
They hit the floor with a loud thud, and Jake winced.
“Actually, what does Lexie like on her pizza?” Noah asked, looking out the window.
“What?” Jake lifted his head off the cushion where he’d parked it hours before.
“What does Lexie like on her pizza?” Noah repeated slowly, and he stared at Jake as though waiting for his words to register.
“Why?”
“Because she just pulled in, and she might be hungry.”
“What?!” Jake surged to his feet, his head whipping toward the front window where, sure enough, he could see Lexie Preston climbing from her car, bundled from head to toe. The mild winter weather had finally taken a turn, and the shoulders of her coat were already dusted with tiny snowflakes that drifted down from the slate-gray sky. She looked hesitantly toward the house as if she were deciding whether or not to knock.
“Good luck with that,” Noah said as he headed for the safety of his bedroom, but Jake barely acknowledged him. Instead, he stood rooted to the floor, watching as Lexie picked her way carefully over the gravel driveway and up the broken sidewalk.
She’d only been to his place a handful of times, and then only to pick him up outside. He looked around frantically, scanning the dilapidated interior with a groan. There were still faded orange paint splatters on some of the walls and cabinets from Noah’s paintball assault months ago, and dirty dishes were piled high in the sink. Actually, he couldn’t remember the last time they’d been washed.
He scrubbed his palm over the week-old beard he’d been neglecting in favor of self-pity. Nothing he could do about that now, but at least he’d showered that morning. That was something.
A knock sounded at the door, and his eyes jumped to the plain wood that separated him from the girl who still had the power to rip him to pieces. He didn’t tell his legs to move, but something propelled him forward anyway, and before he knew it, he was looking down into the green eyes that had haunted both his waking and sleeping hours for weeks now. He’d spent so much time thinking of a thousand things he wanted to say when he finally saw her again, and yet, now that the moment had come, his throat was too tight to speak.
“Hi,” Lexie said softly, her eyes wide, as if surprised he’d actually come to the door. She scanned his face, and her eyes dropped to his socked feet and then traveled back up, like she was making sure all his details were as she remembered them.
“I found the pictures. Finally. I never unpacked after... So, I just... anyway,” she babbled, her gaze falling as she raised one gloved hand to push a lock of hair out of her face. She tried and failed to tuck it beneath the edge of her knit cap, and Jake felt his fingers twitch at his sides as if they wanted to do it for her. Her cheeks, already flushed from the cold, turned redder still.
“I know it’s not gift wrapped or anything, but I wrote you a story,” she explained, lifting her other hand to show him a sheet of paper that looked like it had been folded and refolded countless times. “It’s not much, I know, but... here it goes.”
She cleared her throat nervously, and her eyes darted from the paper to his face as she started to read.
“Once upon a time, a king and queen were given a magic music box. Inside, the queen found a tiny ballerina, plated with gold and polished to a shine. ‘What a lovely gift!’ she exclaimed, but when she turned the key, she was met only with silence. ‘Oh, dear! The dancer is broken. She is good for nothing; take her away!’ she ordered, and the box was set upon a shelf.
“Years passed, and whenever someone opened the box, the dancer would stretch her golden limbs to the sky and wait. But the music never came. ‘She can’t dance,’ the people said. ‘What good is a ballerina who can’t dance?’ And they shut her away, closing her into the darkness again and again. The dancer’s beautiful face began to change, until finally, she looked as unhappy as she felt inside.
“Then, one day, a boy opened the box and gazed down on the golden girl inside. He turned her key and, as she’d expected, nothing happened. But instead of casting her aside, he began to sing. At first, the ballerina stayed motionless, her frozen feet locked in place. But then, something incredible happened, and for the first time, the tiny girl began to dance.”
Jake forgot about the cold, listening in rapt attention as Lexie described a girl who blossomed, learning to dip and spin as she was meant to do, and who waited each day for the boy to appear.
“He was patient and kind, and even though the girl was a little bit broken, he didn’t seem to care,” Lexie read, her voice cracking on the last words, but she cleared her throat and kept going. “Over time, he became her friend, and then he became more, and then one day, she realized he was everything she’d ever wished for and that she loved him more than she’d ever thought she could love anyone.”
A tear rolled down Lexie’s face, and this time, Jake felt himself drift forward and wipe it away. Still, Lexie kept reading.
“There were so many things the girl wanted to tell him, but she didn’t know how. She wanted to tell him he was her favorite part of every day, that he was worth fighting for, and that he was always, always more than enough. But as it was, he was a real boy, and she was only a pretty trinket in a box—a plaything without a voice. So, one night, she pushed open the lid of her box and looked up into the sky beyond her shelf. She found a falling star, and she wished, harder than she’d ever wished before, and in the morning, when the boy returned, the little golden girl was gone.”
Lexie stopped, looking up at Jake again, and he reminded himself to blink.
“Where did she go?” he asked, his voice rougher than he’d expected, and a hesitant smile spread across Lexie’s face.
“She’d wished to be human, and she was right there, waiting for him to find her. Because falling in love might be an accident, but living in love is a choice, and she chose to be with him, if he would have her,” Lexie whispered, her eyes full of something Jake had waited a long time to see.
He slid his hand around the nape of her neck and rested his forehead against hers in a motion that felt as natural as breathing. Again, his words wouldn’t come, but this time for an entirely different reason.
“You are worth fighting for, Jacob,” Lexie said in a soft voice meant only for him. “I’m sorry it took me so long, but I’m choosing you, if you’ll ha—”
But Jake didn’t let her finish. Instead, he stopped her words with his mouth, pulling her close and letting her fill the hole in his heart—a hole where only she would fit. He took his time, exploring all the landmarks he knew by heart. It may have been a long time coming, but he’d been right; Lexie had been his all along. Finally, he pulled back and framed her face in his hands.
“I love you,” she breathed.
Jake’s grin spread like wildfire, threatening to burn the whole house down around them.
“Say that again,” he urged.
Lexie pushed up on her toes and pressed another soft kiss to his lips.
“I love you, Jacob Tanner. More than I ever thought I could.”