Chapter 31 #2
His jaw drops. Then he blinks several times. I see his mind racing. He wants to yell at me for keeping secrets, but instead he jumps to something that seems more important. “Matt’s a great guy, Jess. But if this move is because of him, surely—”
I hold up a hand. “Stop. I know everything you’re going to say.
What if it doesn’t work out? What if he breaks my heart?
What if the new wears off and we suddenly get tired of each other?
But you know what? I never take chances.
Because I’m always too afraid of the consequences.
I need to take this chance, Kev. I need to let myself care about someone, no matter how it might turn out in the end.
I need to be brave, and strong—not a willow. ”
He squints. “A willow?”
“Never mind,” I say, shaking my head. “The point is, I’m sure about this. I’m not sure about the future or what it holds, regarding Matt or anything else. In fact, I broke up with him in a mean way right before I left, so he might hate me now.”
“Eek,” he interjects.
I ignore that and keep going. “Still, I know I need to make this change. I know I need to follow my heart. Anything less will be a cop-out and always leave me playing the what-if game. I’ve built an actual life in Lost and Found, and now I want to go live it and see what happens next.”
On the drive out of the city, I call Sydney and tell her everything. Including the same long-overdue things I said to Kevin—that I love her and she’s my best friend and she means the world to me.
She cries.
I get it. I even get a little weepy, too.
The one thing I have, perhaps, not really factored into all this is the reality of leaving my friends.
I don’t have many close ones, but the ones I do have are like family to me—I love them and will miss them.
I’d even almost started looking forward to euchre with Nana.
The thing neither of us says, though, is something we both surely know—that things are changing.
She and Jayden spend most of their time together now.
She talks about his dog like she’s co-parenting it.
So even if I were there, things would be different.
Things change. Life changes. And as much as I have lamented that at times, maybe it’s meant to change.
Maybe, no matter how content we might be in one set of conditions, we’re ultimately meant to go out and experience others.
Maybe that’s what life is about—soaking up all the experiences, the good and the bad and everything in between, and looking back in the end knowing you really lived .
Syd and I make all the promises, about visiting and phone calls, and I think we’ll keep them—even though I know it won’t be the same. But we both try to believe it will. Love can adapt.
I conclude the call by saying, “I’m so sorry I didn’t see you—I’m a terrible friend. But it’s been a really emotional twenty-four hours, and getting back home suddenly feels ... urgent.”
“You’re already calling it home,” she observes softly.
I hold in the tiny gasp I feel in my chest. “I guess I am.”
“I suppose it speaks volumes,” she says, “when your whole idea of home becomes something new.”
By the time we hang up, the interstate is starting to wind its way into the lush, green mountains, and a part of me still can’t believe I want to give up my Riverside Drive mansion for Mabel’s cottage.
And yet a bigger part can’t believe it took me so long to see everything so beautiful about this hidden gem of a place I’ve found.
And maybe ... every place holds its own beauty if you just take the time to find it, open your eyes to seeing it.
As I leave I-75 and twist my way around and through the mountains to get home, it hits me anew how far away Lost and Found feels from everything familiar to me. And also how much I’ve quit minding that.
The closer I get to Lost Valley Lane, the more it feels like coming back to a safe place—and yet there are still a million questions.
How will I make a living? Yes, I’m in good shape financially, but I don’t want to burn through my assets and be left with nothing.
And will my fresh love of this little town sustain?
Or will the winters feel too long? And will the lack of entertainment and pizza delivery finally wear me down? And ... what about Matt?
Yes, he said he wouldn’t be sorry if I stayed.
But it’s a pretty vague statement in a way.
It could have meant: Stay for a while ; don’t rush back to your other life while we’re in the throes of passion; let’s enjoy each other a little longer and then you can leave.
Or it could have meant: Buy the house next door—but remember, if we ever break up, it will be incredibly painful and awkward for both of us twenty-four seven.
Plus I did actually break up with him yesterday. In a really jerky way. What if he’s had enough of me and my flightiness, my meanness, the fact that I seem like someone who doesn’t know what she wants and isn’t very nice sometimes? In fact, why did he ever like me at all?
When I turn onto Lost Valley Lane, my chest is stretched tight as a rubber band.
What if he can’t forgive me? What if he does forgive me but doesn’t want something long term?
I’ve raced back here to tell my lover we can continue being together, but how will Matt take it when I announce I’ve quit my job and am buying Mabel’s house?
In fact, dropping that bombshell the very day after I unceremoniously told him we were through might harken back to some of my more maniacal-seeming behavior from earlier in the summer.
He might start wondering exactly what he’s gotten himself into and decide it would be wise to run screaming in the other direction.
As I drive past his house, I see that his truck is home—and then I spot him sitting on his front porch in the shade, bare feet crossed at the ankles and propped up on the porch rail near the one-eyed chicken.
When I get out and start toward the cottage with two pizza boxes in my hands, I hope he’ll come over. That’s always how it’s been between us; even when I’ve been distant or pushed him away, he’s come over.
But this time he stays put. He doesn’t even glance my way.
I don’t blame him a bit. But it makes my chest ache still worse.
I know what I have to do.
Instead of going inside, I walk toward him. Like yesterday, I have no plan. But at least good intentions this time. I only hope they don’t blow up in my face.
On my approach, I see he’s wearing jeans and his Dollywood shirt, which looks to have survived the pie incident from a while back just fine. And I can’t deny how happy I am to see him, that even while he’s ignoring me, the very sight of him turns me all melty inside.
“Hi,” I say hopefully, trying for a smile.
He glances over absently, like I’m an irritating buzzing fly, but says nothing.
Though it’s getting hard to breathe, I try to forge ahead. “How’s my cat?”
He looks straight back ahead of him. “Well fed and still meowin’.”
“Good.” I nod. “I kind of missed her and her meows.” And I kind of missed you, too. And not just kind of—a lot. But I, of course, keep that to myself.
Then he motions to the pizza boxes. “What’s this?”
“One and a half of my favorite pizzas from a place near my house. Should be enough for two or three microwaved meals at least.”
“Well, enjoy,” he tells me, then once again turns his eyes back toward the road.
“I was thinking we could, um, share it.” I’m almost astonished all over again at how much I’m dying to do something as simple as share a pizza with Matthew Cordray. But I’m still getting used to such feelings, and to actually letting myself have them.
He tosses me a sideways glance, appearing skeptical and understandably confused. After which he finally crushes my every hope with, “Probably best we don’t. Like you said, probably best we don’t see each other anymore.”
My knees nearly give out. That’s it. I’ve blown it.
To smithereens. I’ve ruined everything. With my stupid armor.
My stupid need to protect myself and never take a risk with my emotions.
Which I’m pretty sure backfired anyway, because my emotions are already involved here and they’re making me want to crumble into pieces.
“Okay,” I whisper sullenly. There’s a lot more I could say, of course, but I’m not sure it makes any sense to.
An apology would sound almost ... hollow, all things considered.
What reason does he have to accept, or to believe in me at all?
I’ve treated him abysmally at times, most recently yesterday, and he’s probably good and tired of it, and who can blame him?
I’m turning to go, pizza boxes in hand, tail tucked between my legs, when he asks, “So what’s the verdict? When ya leavin’?”
I stop and turn back toward him, meeting his gaze because he’s finally looking at me.
I love his eyes. And I wish I could know what he wants the answer to be, how he really feels, if there’s any chance of redeeming myself—but I’ve certainly never encouraged him to share his feelings with me, and in fact spent quite a bit of effort doing the opposite.
At last I tell him, “I’m ... not, actually. ”
He pulls back slightly. “Ever?”
Moment of truth. Just spit it out. “I quit my job and told Kevin I want to buy the cottage. And part of the reason is that I’ve fallen in love with this little town, and the lost and found, and the lake, and the sunsets—all of it. And part of the reason is that I’ve fallen in love with ...”
That’s when I stop. Because holy crap, I’ve veered recklessly into dangerous territory here.
He says nothing, though, doesn’t bail me out in any way. He just holds my gaze, one eyebrow arched, daring me to finish the sentence.
I take the dare. “You.” Because isn’t that how you risk? Isn’t that how you take a chance and follow your heart and all that stuff I told Kevin I wanted to do?
Of course, I’m sweating now, profusely, and feeling like I might throw up. I’ve never been so honest with someone whose response has the ability to make or break me.
I can see I’ve caught him entirely off guard with this news. Which makes sense—I’m still pretty caught off guard, too.
I love you, too, Jessie. I’m waiting for him to say that. Praying for it.
Please, please, please end the suspense and give me that thing I’ve never had because I’ve always run from it—real love.
Instead he says, “Wow. Didn’t see that comin’, either—any more than the stuff you said before you left.” He runs a hand through his hair. And I want to throttle him. Because it’s just hanging out there, my ultimate confession, with no response. I’m sure I deserve it, but ugh.
And I still can’t quite read his eyes, so I have to bite the bullet and ask, “Is it ... a good wow? Or a that’s-kind-of-overwhelming wow? Or a you’re-too-mean, go-away wow? You can be honest—I can take it.”
“It’s a good wow, Jessie,” he says, voice low, in a way that radiates through my solar plexus. It’s not I love you, too , but it’s a step in the right direction, thank goodness.
And so, on reflex, I decide to try to turn this back into something light. That’s my MO, after all—my safety net. “I’m glad,” I tell him, taking a few steps back in his direction. “Because I’m thinking this turn of events will be beneficial for your sex life.”
At which point he stands up, walks to where I’m standing, and extracts the pizza boxes from my grasp, lowering them to the chair he just vacated. Then he takes my hands in his to say, “More than just my sex life. My life, Jessie. You’re good for my life.” He squeezes my hands in his.
“I’m so sorry about yesterday,” I tell him. “I was afraid. I don’t get close to many people. I mean, I have two close friends—that’s it, in my whole adulthood. What does that tell you? I’m crappy with relationships.”
His eyes have softened now. He’s back to being the Matt I know. “Maybe I can help you do better.”
I feel that in my chest, in a good way—in my heart. “I think you already have. I just still need to work on it.”
“Did you mean what you said? About bein’ in love with me?”
The question steals my breath. Such scary words. I’ve never felt more vulnerable. But I have to keep being brave. “Yes. I tried not to be, but I just am.”
He leans forward, touching his forehead to mine. “That’s the best news I’ve heard in a long time, darlin’.”
“Yeah?” I ask.
“Yeah. ’Cause I’m in love with you, too. Tried not to be,” he adds with a little grin. “But I just am.”
And just like that, I can breathe again. I’m revived, a woman who’s been brought back to life. I look at him, and he looks at me, and I feel ... found.
And in an effort to be more open and communicate more clearly, I say, “Police Chief Cordray, would you kiss me already?”
“That’ll be my extreme pleasure, ma’am.” With that, he cups my cheek in his palm and gives me maybe the best kiss of my life.
All Matt’s kisses are delicious, but perhaps this is the first one I’m so very ready for, so eager to surrender to.
I came here convinced this would be the great lost summer, yet it’s turned out to be the summer I found .
.. everything. Beauty in nature, beauty in people, beauty in the old and forgotten, beauty in .
.. myself. I found recovery and renewal.
I found blackberries and snapdragons and mimosa trees.
I found the courage to take off my armor and to .
.. feel. And when I least expected it, I found .
.. love. And maybe most of all, I found . .. me.