Chapter 7
Now
“So, where’s home, J?” Taevin asks me as I grab her bags from where the flight attendant left them on the tarmac.
I hesitate, not knowing how exactly to answer that at first. For one, I haven’t felt a sense of being home since she left me.
And secondly, I’m not sure how to explain that I’ve got two places of residence—the condo I purchased from Bennett when he moved in with Scarlett last fall, and my house outside the city.
I’ve been working on building the house for the past five years, and it’s more than just a labor of love to me.
I’m anxious for her to be in my space after having pictured her there hundreds of times over the years.
I haven’t stayed there since construction finished on it because it didn’t feel right without her there.
Instead of elaborating, I just say, “We’re going to make a quick pit stop at my condo in the city so I can grab a few things and then we’ll stay at my house that’s just outside the city.”
“Oh, two places. Look at you making the big bucks,” Tae teases, waggling her eyebrows so the ball cap she has on rises on her forehead.
I scoff at that. “Not at all. I think you have me mistaken for Bennett or Griff. I’m pretty replaceable, but Benny’s the top defenseman and G has been a top goal scorer in the league for the past three seasons. I really thought this was our year to win it all.”
Toeing the ground and refusing to make eye contact with me, Tae murmurs, “I may have noticed Minnesota made it pretty far in the playoffs this year.”
Shaking my head, I playfully shoulder check her to get her attention.
It works, and when her gaze locks on mine, I have to fight the urge to pull her into my chest the way I so naturally did once upon a time.
Clearing the sudden nerves from my throat, I test out mirroring her teasing tone, “Been keeping tabs on me, Thorn?”
The nickname easily slips from my lips, because at one point calling her that and pulling her into my arms was second nature.
Tae’s spine stiffens but I welcome the thought of her being as affected by me as I am by her.
Going from having all of her to her becoming a ghost in my life has fucked with my head for years now, but nothing compares to having her so close physically again while remaining lightyears away emotionally.
There’s a void in my heart that will never be filled—years of my life wasted thinking about what could’ve been.
Loving her from a distance all this time was like trying to catch hold of a ghost—my heart felt as hollow as my hands did empty.
I know things are only going to get worse as she enters a space I’ve built from the ground up.
Each room in my house was designed with her in mind.
Every decision, down to the smallest of details, was made with thoughts of Taevin.
I won’t be able to talk my way out of it.
As soon as we pull into the drive, she’ll know this is the home she and I dreamed up when we were still practically kids.
I’m so in my own head, I hardly realize we’ve walked out of the airport and through the parking garage until I hear Taevin ask, “Is this . . .?”
I nod when I realize she’s asking if this is my truck. “It is.”
“You’ve still got Frannie girl? How is she still holding up after all this time?” she asks in disbelief.
“She got a bit of a facelift since you last saw her. I could never replace my sweet Frannie, she’s been the best girl to me over the years. And she still has a lot of years left in her, don’t you sweet girl?” I run my fingers across the newly painted tailgate.
“You painted her black?” It comes out more of a question than a remark.
I don’t answer her because the truck color speaks for itself.
“Why?” she asks, though it’s more of a whisper so I don’t know if she actually wants an answer, but I decide to give her one anyways.
“Some things change, while others don’t. Black became my favorite color a decade ago and it stuck.”
She sucks in a shaky breath. “You said you didn’t have a favorite color at the time so you adopted mine.”
Yeah, that, and I became obsessed with the way her black hair looked laying across my chest. But I don’t tell her that, instead I point out, “I said I’d adopt it, not borrow it.”
Tae nods once before awkwardly shifting her weight like she’s not sure what to do next.
After tossing our bags in the bed of my truck, I open the passenger door for her.
“Let’s get you settled in. That was a long flight,” I tell her as she slides into the passenger seat and I have to ball my hand into a fist to keep myself from buckling her in the way I used to.
After shutting the passenger door, I give myself a mini pep talk as I round the bed of my truck.
I’ve got this. I can spend time with her in closed quarters while keeping my composure.
I need to be her support right now, if I don’t, I risk scaring her away, and I have no doubt Taevin would hightail it back to Nashville.
I hesitate a moment when I turn the key in the ignition, almost afraid that if I look over in my passenger seat I won’t find her there.
Scared that maybe this whole thing has been a figment of my imagination and the woman I’ve never for one second gotten over won’t really be sitting beside me in the very spot she was in when we dreamed together as we drove down neighborhood streets under midnight stars.
Taevin
Jackson has been quiet, eerily so, since we left his condo and started driving out of the city toward his house.
He mentioned it was just outside the Twin Cities, but we’ve been driving for over twenty minutes and the freeway has now turned into a back road that winds through fields of tall green grass and corn.
Apparently the condo was Bennett’s until he moved in with Scarlett last year.
As he walked me through it, he told me he bought it so the commute was shorter, and that was where he stayed for most of the season last year.
I was shocked because it was fairly empty and cold, void of any pictures or signs that someone actually lived there, which is the opposite of what I’d pictured him in.
But aside from those few remarks back at his condo, he’s been silent.
Shifting in my seat, I face him. “Are you getting hungry?”
He shrugs in reply, giving me nothing once again.
His grip tightens on the steering wheel with one hand while his other runs through his hair for the dozenth time.
He’s clearly in his own head, and normally I’d respect someone’s need for space, but I’m only in Minnesota right now because of him.
So if I have to put myself through this discomfort, he needs to at least talk to me.
With a huff of annoyance I suggest, “We could order something for dinner. Wait, do they deliver food this far out of the city?”
“They do,” he confirms, his curtness has me gritting my teeth until he flips his blinker and slows before taking a left-hand turn.
A cloud of dirt follows us up a gravel driveway as a massive dark house surrounded by evergreens comes into view, and my heart seizes in my chest as the memories come flashing back to me.
“If you could live in any color house what would you choose?” Jax asks me as he drives us through an older neighborhood near my house.
I don’t hesitate with my answer. “Easy, a black house with a pitched roof and weathered oak wood and stone accents throughout.”
“Wow, that was quick. How much have you thought about this?”
“As you know, black is my favorite color. And I’ve got at least a dozen Pinterest boards dedicated to my first apartment, first home, and ultimately my dream home.
Oh, I almost forgot. Our dream home will be on a big plot of land where we can hunt and fish and sit out on the back porch to watch our kids play in the field behind our house. ”
“Is that all?” he drawls with a dopey grin on his face.
“No. I suppose not. I want it to feel cozy year round, but when it’s Christmas time I want it to feel so magical, we never want to leave.
A Christmas tree in every room and dozens to fill our front porch.
Then when you come home from a long away trip, you’ll feel our embrace from the moment you pull into the driveway. ”
“You’re using the word ‘ours’ a lot to describe your dream house.”
My eyes widen and my cheeks heat.
He shakes his head, grabbing my hand and bringing it to his lips. “Stop. Don’t get embarrassed. I love this. Keep going. Tell me everything. How many bedrooms will there be?”
“Well, we’re having at least three kids, so the house should probably have four bedrooms.”
“Five.”
“Five bedrooms? Seems excessive, but okay.”
“No, five kids.”
“Five?! Are you crazy?” I ask incredulously.
“What? Too many?”
“Yes! Most guys would look at me like I had two heads talking about three kids this day and age.”
“Call me traditional then, baby. I want you barefoot and pregnant as much as possible.”
“You just want to have your wicked way with me as much as possible.”
“They say practice makes perfect,” he croons, and I lightly smack his chest.
“You’re crazy. So, tell me, what’s on your wishlist, J?” I ask as we pull up to a stop sign, and he turns to face me.
“Aside from the five babies, not much. A hot tub tucked away from the main house where we can sneak off to go stargazing for a little alone time once the kids go to bed.” He waggles his eyebrows, and I roll my eyes before he continues.
“Oh, and a sauna too to help me recover my sore muscles after a game.”
“That sounds glorious,” I sigh in contentment, imagining someday our every wish and dream coming to fruition.
I’m dizzy as I snap back to the reality before me when he parks his truck in front of the large, black mansion with multiple roof pitches and stone and wood accents that looks like it was plucked straight from my dreams and placed on a huge plot of land.
How did he do this? Why did he do this? It’s been so long . . . and yet every moment is still engraved in my mind like no time has passed at all. Has it been the same for him too, even after all this time?
When I turn to take Jax in, he’s staring off into the distance, and I know the flashbacks of the many conversations about our future are playing out for him like a movie right now too.
Breaking the stifling silence, I ask, “What is this?”
After a deep breath he faces me, and when he does, his eyes rove over my face, studying every detail as if he’s taking note of every difference. “My promise to you.”
My breath hitches in a gasp. “I never expected you to keep it. I mean, we were eighteen-year-old kids with stars in our eyes thinking we were invincible, Jackson.”
“Come on, Tae, not you too,” he says, looking pained, as if what I just said struck him straight in the chest. “I’m so sick of everyone telling me I should’ve gotten over my high school sweetheart by now.
They don’t get it because they weren’t there.
But you were—you know how I felt about you—I’m surprised this is such a shock to you.
Our future meant everything to me, and once upon a time, it did to you too. ”
“Yeah, well, maybe not everyone is meant to get a happy ever after,” I hear myself whisper. Some of the most epic stories end in tragedy, but they’re still worth telling because there’s beauty in the breakdown.
And aren’t I about to become a shining example of this? Spending the rest of my life living with the fact that I’ll be incapable of living out the fairytale we once dreamt of. A fact that will become glaringly true for the both of us in a few weeks’ time.