Chapter 20
CHAPTER TWENTY
FLETCH
I’m in trouble.
Deep, potentially hazardous-for-your-health style trouble.
Because somewhere between Denver and Jake Rodgers’ mansion-on-wheels, between a kiss in Kansas and a crash in Ohio …
I fell for Poppy Grace Lewis.
Hard.
I knew she was infuriatingly cute—saw that before we were even on the plane—but I didn’t know her beauty would have the power to steal my breath. And I never imagined that a simple wrinkle of that adorable nose could fill me with a need to pick her up and squeeze her close.
I knew how caring she was when Mr. Parkinson talked to her in the airport—that man doesn’t grab hands and pass out smiles for anyone.
But I had no idea she’d have a light to her that would make even the coldest parts of me feel seen and warm.
Or that caring so deeply would wear her down and build her up at the same time.
Her quick wit has struck me more times than I can count, but I love that it doesn’t come with an edge. Instead, it’s warm and inclusive, drawing people in rather than cutting them down.
Three days. That’s all it took.
Three days, and I’m completely gone for her.
I’ve never felt emotion like this. I don’t know how to describe it or contain it.
I feel like someone inflated a hot air balloon in my chest, and I could float right out of Jake’s SUV.
My hands are restless against the leather seat, and I realize I’m bouncing my knee—something that makes me feel like a kid waiting for Christmas morning.
Somehow the world has kept spinning while my brain caught up with my heart. I don’t know how long I’ve been processing, but Scottie has stepped up, talking to Poppy the whole time.
And then I feel a tug on my heart, one that feels like regret more than guilt.
Grace.
For over a year, she’s been my safe harbor. The person I could talk to without risking anything real. We understood each other through screens and careful distance—two people who were too scared to want more.
But now I see that’s exactly what we were: scared.
What I feel for Poppy isn’t safe. It’s terrifying and real and sitting right next to me with her hand in mine.
Grace and I promised each other we’d never push, never ask for more than the other could give.
And I kept that promise … maybe too well.
Because somewhere along the way, I think we both knew that what we had was beautiful and important, but it wasn’t going anywhere.
It couldn’t. While Grace kept progressing, I didn’t.
I was too afraid.
I’m finally ready to lean into the fear … with someone else.
I’ll tell Grace the second I’m back in Rochester.
It won’t be “I met someone else,” though.
It’ll be “Thank you. Thank you for showing me I could feel something again. Thank you for being a friend and confidante, thank you for being there when I needed someone safe. But I’m ready to stop being safe now. ”
She’ll understand. I think she’s been waiting for one of us to say it, so I will. Tomorrow.
Right now, though ...
Right now, all I want is Poppy.
“So you flew to Georgia for work and then quit,” Scottie says, like she’s repeating something Poppy just told her. “What did you do?”
“Criminal justice stuff,” Poppy says vaguely. “It’s boring and a lot of it’s confidential.”
Her voice drops on the word “confidential,” and I catch the slight shift in her tone—something that sounds like exhaustion. Or maybe … shame?
“Are you a spy? Please tell me you’re a spy,” Scottie says.
Poppy gives a wry laugh. “If only.”
“What are you gonna do now? You live in Rochester, right?”
“My lease is up in January,” she says. “Maybe I’ll fly down to Florida and stay with my mom and stepdad for a while.”
Poppy’s childhood was so hard, and her mom never had time for her. Maybe it will be healing for her to spend time with her mom now.
And she’ll be a lot closer to South Carolina …
“Are you going to look for a new job right away?” Scottie asks.
“Oh, yeah,” Poppy says. “I shouldn’t have waited this long, honestly. Crushing student loan debt and all.”
“I’ll pay it off for you,” Jake says, catching my eye in the rearview mirror with a smirk that makes me want to punch something.
“What?” I ask. Why does this guy keep inserting himself where he isn’t wanted?
“What?” Poppy asks with a laugh. “No, but thank you.”
“Jake’s a show off,” Scottie says, but she’s giving a smile that borders on affectionate. “Has to remind people constantly of his four hundred million dollar contract.”
“That’s hurtful. You know it was four fifty,” he says, and Scottie groans. “And hey, don’t forget to post a picture of this to my social media. Got to make sure the sheep see what a good person I am, helping people in need.”
Scottie rolls her eyes for all of us. “No.”
“Hey, you asked me for my help. The rest of your family was too busy with all those important life things you’re not a part of.”
“Then pay off Poppy’s student loans.”
“I don’t need you to pay off my student loans,” Poppy says, leaning forward, like she’s trying to make sure Jake can hear.
He waves a hand. “Like I care about a few dollars.”
“Forty-two thousand,” she says.
“That’s it? Man, they just give those degrees away, don’t they?”
Poppy’s jaw falls open.
“Seriously, let him pay it,” Scottie says, her dark eyes on us. “He lives for this stuff. Makes him feel like a hero.”
“Totally,” Jake agrees. “But Scott, just make sure you post about it. Make up some crap about how I found these two stranded on the side of the road and paid for them to get home for Christmas. And then add the part about paying off their student loans.”
Whatever balloon had inflated inside my chest has crashed and burned against the mountain that is Jake Rodgers’ ego.
The heater’s blasting too hot now, making the leather smell stronger, and I crack my window an inch.
Cold air rushes in, sharp and steadying.
If the Firebirds send this guy down to the minors, I’ll quit.
“Jake, I played pro ball,” I say. “I’m the youngest manager in the minor leagues. I don’t have student loans, and I don’t need your money.”
Jake chuckles. “That’s cute, bro. Keep that chin up.”
“We can’t drive them to Rochester,” Scottie tells Jake. “We have family pictures tomorrow.” She looks back at us. “But you’d better believe I’ll have Jake pay off the loans.”
“Jake, you don’t need to pay off my student loans,” Poppy insists, her face red.
“Come on, let me do something nice,” Jake pushes, and as irritating as this guy is, something else occurs to me: why not? Wasn’t I telling Poppy last night that she needs to let people take care of her? This is nothing to Jake.
It would be everything to Poppy.
And honestly, I’m mad I didn’t think of it first.
“You should let him,” I say softly, my thumb tracing circles on her calf over the ridges of her corduroy pants. “You know you can say yes, right?”
Poppy’s face snaps to mine. “Would you?”
“No,” I say with a quiet snort. “But that’s exactly why you should. Don’t be too proud to accept help when it’s offered. Think about it as you doing him a service. If you say yes, it’ll let Jake feel good about himself.”
“Huh,” she says, leaning her head back. Then she says to Scottie. “Okay. If you’re serious, I’ll send you my loan info.”
Scottie nods. “Perfect. I’ll get it done before you guys are back in Rochester.” She pushes her glasses up. “The next available bus doesn’t leave till six p.m., and it’ll have you arriving around midnight. Or you could wait and take the train tomorrow morning.”
I look at Poppy, at her big green eyes with the brown rings that make them look hazel, at her upturned nose and kissable lips.
At the way she radiates goodness without even trying.
I’ve spent every moment of the last three days with her.
It’s not enough. Saying goodbye feels like torture, even if we can see each other over the holidays in Rochester.
“We should take the bus,” Poppy says to me, but her voice lacks conviction, and she’s looking at our hands—hers resting on her lap, mine inches away on her knee
She’s right. And I should want to put the brakes on how I’m feeling.
I really should. It’s not like I woke up this morning a different person.
I’m still storm clouds on a sunny day. The guy who sees the glass half empty and then dumps the rest out, just to prove his point.
No woman I’ve been in a relationship with has been able to tolerate my pessimism for long.
Of course, with every other woman, I’ve held that part back as long as I could. Poppy has seen more than her fair share, and she’s still here.
For the first time in my life, someone has seen the worst of me and still likes me.
My heart jumps into my throat, beating so hard, I think it’s going to jump out. “Or we could sightsee in Cleveland and take the train tomorrow,” I say.
Her head lifts from the seat rest and she looks at me like she didn’t hear me right. “You don’t mean that, do you?”
Outside, the countryside gives way to suburbs—houses closer together, strip malls appearing, signs for Cleveland growing more frequent. “You’re the one who looks for detours,” I tell her. “Do you really want to turn down a little adventure?”
She grins.
“Can you guys all say cheese?” Scottie asks. “Jake said he’d give me a thousand dollars if I post a picture to his socials. Someone’s looking to rehab his image.”
“I’m not looking to rehab my image,” Jake says. “I’m looking to have you rehab my image,” he tells Scottie. He smiles for the camera, though. Poppy tries to pull her leg off my lap, but I hold it steady. I’m not on social media. I don’t care who sees this. And I don’t want her going anywhere.
Scottie takes a picture and then looks at it. “Let’s take a couple more. Everyone look at the camera.”
“Shouldn’t Jake be looking at the road?” I ask, looking at Poppy.
“Pfft,” Jake says. “Like this car can’t drive itself.”