Chapter 25
Georgia was taking a huge chance, walking through the house with all her luggage. She should have left it all behind, but she didn’t want to give Jake a reason to find her. As long as there was even a thread of hope, he’d spend his every last breath trying to win her back.
She’d rehearsed her escape in her head a dozen times, timing each step to the creak of the floorboards, every breath held tight so she wouldn’t wake anyone.
She’d already called a ride-share and he was seven minutes out. Her luggage was on the porch, lined up like little soldiers going into battle. All she needed was her purse—which was on the couch.
“One last trip,” she said. “Then this chapter is closed.”
Even saying the word chapter made her heart swell up with unshed emotion, because there was no time for emotion. Later there would be, but that later was a good three hours away while tucked into her bed, eating Ben and Jerry’s, and watching Love Island.
She padded into the living room, clutching her boots to her chest like a shield, going for incognito. But the light broke her plan.
Rachel sat on the couch in a hoodie and plaid pajama bottoms, steam rising from her mug of tea. She didn’t even flinch at the sight of Georgia, just arched one brow in a way that made Georgia feel twelve years old again, sneaking cookies before dinner.
“Well,” Rachel said, voice smooth but edged with knowing, “look who’s up before the rooster.” Her gaze flicked down to Georgia’s sweater and jeans. She didn’t have to say more.
Georgia’s face went hot. “I was just—”
“Slipping out?” Rachel supplied. She took a slow sip of tea, then gestured toward the chair across from her. “Sit.”
Georgia hesitated, then lowered herself into the seat, her boots still pressed tight against her chest. The room smelled faintly of lemon cleaner and peppermint tea, too clean and too sharp, and Georgia wished she could disappear into it.
Rachel set her mug down, folding her hands around it. “Listen, I’m not here to give you hell. But I am going to be honest. You leaving? It’s the right call.”
Georgia blinked, throat working. “You think so?”
Rachel’s gaze softened, but she didn’t flinch.
“I know so. Jake’s life, it isn’t simple.
He’s on the road nine months out of the year, sometimes more.
That’s his world.” She leaned forward. “And you? You’ve built something in Austin.
A career, a life that’s rooted. Those two things don’t fit together, no matter how much you want them to. ”
Georgia’s fingers tightened around her boots. She tried to find words, but Rachel wasn’t done.
“And kids,” Rachel went on, quieter now, like she didn’t want to twist the knife but knew she had to.
“You’ve said you don’t want them. Jake? He’s always pictured himself with a family one day.
Maybe not tomorrow, maybe not next year, but it’s in him.
He’s a man who talks about traditions, about teaching his kids to drive, about having someone waiting for him when he comes home.
” She gave a faint, humorless laugh. “Hell, he’s been saying that since we were teenagers. ”
Georgia’s throat burned.
“And even if you changed your mind…” Rachel trailed off for a moment, weighing her words, then pressed on.
“I know spina bifida is genetic. That fear isn’t nothing, Georgia.
It’s real. It’s heavy. You’d carry it through every decision, every moment.
And Jake deserves someone who doesn’t feel like they’re bracing for disaster just by dreaming of a family. ”
The room went very still. The crackle of the fire sounded louder than it should have, the faint whistle of wind through the eaves pressing in.
Her stomach dropped so fast it left her breathless, like she’d missed a step on a staircase in the dark.
Heat crept up her neck, burning hot against the cold knot forming in her chest, and suddenly the room felt too small—too close—like the walls themselves were leaning in to listen.
Her fingers curled into her palms, nails biting against skin, because if she didn’t hold on to something, she wasn’t sure she wouldn’t come apart.
It was one thing to think those words in the quiet, private corners of her mind.
It was another to have them spoken aloud—laid bare and ugly—as if they were the only truth about her.
And damn it, maybe Rachel was right. Maybe she was bracing for disaster, even in her daydreams. The thought lodged deep, a sharp, unwelcome thorn she couldn’t shake.
Rachel must have seen the heartbreak in Georgia’s eyes because her shoulders sank and her tone gentled.
“I’m not saying you don’t care about him.
Anyone can see you do. But love isn’t always enough.
Not when the foundations are this far apart.
You’d both spend more time trying to bend yourselves into shapes you’re not meant to be than actually being happy. ”
Georgia pressed her lips together, eyes stinging.
Rachel’s voice softened even more, low and certain.
“Walking away now? That’s mercy, Georgia.
It’s giving both of you a chance to find someone who actually fits.
And as much as it’ll hurt him, as much as it’s clearly killing you right now, it’s better than dragging this out until it breaks under its own weight. ”
Georgia swallowed hard, unable to meet her eyes. She knew leaving was the right call—the only one—but hearing it from Rachel broke something fragile inside her.
Rachel gave her a long look, then reached for her mug again. “I’ll tell you something my meemaw told me once: Love is about timing as much as anything else. And right now? You and Jake? You’re on different clocks.”
The words landed heavy, like a verdict. Georgia rose on shaky legs, her boots clutched so tightly her knuckles ached.
She made it to the door before Rachel spoke again, softer than before, almost like an afterthought. “Doesn’t mean he won’t hate me for saying all that. But I’d rather him hate me than watch him fall apart. Again.”
Georgia closed her eyes against the sting of that last word and slipped out into the morning. The snow crunched beneath her feet, but it was Rachel’s words that echoed, sharp and merciless in her chest.
Jake stormed down the hall, bare feet slapping against the cold wood, his chest tight and racing. The cabin felt too quiet—too empty. And then he saw her, Rachel, sitting at the kitchen counter like nothing had changed, her tea steaming gently in her hands.
“Where is she?” His voice cracked before he could stop it.
Rachel looked up slowly, eyes calm but distant. “She’s gone.”
Jake froze, his stomach dropping, even though, on some level, he already knew the answer.
“What do you mean, gone?”
“She left,” she said, as if that explained everything.
He gritted his teeth, pacing in a circle as panic clawed up his throat. “You talked to her. What did you say to her?”
Rachel set down her mug with a quiet clink, not rising. “The truth. That leaving was the right choice.”
“No!” His shout echoed off the walls. “That’s not your choice to make!”
“No. It was hers. She was already packed up and leaving when I caught her.”
“She wouldn’t leave without a goodbye.” Especially not after last night. Last night was amazing. A moment to start the rest of their moments.
“Well, she did and before you go chasing after her like some knight, think about it, Jake,” she said evenly.
“She has a life here, one that doesn’t fit with yours.
She doesn’t want kids. You do. And if she changed her mind, there’s the risk…
the spina bifida in her family. You’d both carry it every day. You’d both suffer.”
Jake stopped mid-step. His fists curled at his sides. His mind spun, words jumbled and desperate. “I don’t care about any of that! None of it matters! She is my world. Georgia is my everything. The races, the trophies, the sponsors, the travel—it’s meaningless if I can’t share it with her!”
Rachel’s gaze softened, but her words cut deep. “Love doesn’t erase the cracks, Jake. It just makes the fall hurt more when it finally gives way.”
Her calm, her rationality—it was unbearable. Jake felt himself unraveling, the fight draining from him, leaving nothing but raw ache in his chest.
“You pushed her away,” he whispered, voice hoarse and fragile. “You’re the one keeping her from me.”
“She’s a big girl.” Rachel shook her head, gentle but firm. “And if anything, I’m trying to save you both from heartbreak. If you could just channel all that energy into racing you’d be a world champion.”
She didn’t say instead of being the first loser, but the punch to his gut made him feel that way.
“Relationships have to serve a purpose, Jake. What does she bring to your life that propels you forward?” Rachel asked, and for the first time Jake was conscious of just how hard it must have been on Rachel to grow up in a house with parents who used relationships as tools—to secure deals, boost social standing, or maintain control.
Just being on the periphery had twisted Jake’s perspective on intimacy and trust. But then he remembered that he had his grandparents’ love as an example, and how pure and precious it was.
It was a big difference between him and Rachel.
He didn’t want a love defined by external purpose.
He wanted one that was grown from the emotional connection.
Only Georgia hadn’t wanted the same.
Jake’s knees went weak at the realization, and suddenly all his strength failed him. He couldn’t fight. Couldn’t argue. Couldn’t chase. His chest felt hollow, his heart a raw, exposed thing.
Slowly, he turned, dragging himself toward his room. Every step was leaden.
He shut the door behind him with a final, hollow thud. Collapsing onto the bed, he buried his face in the pillow.
“Fuck. Fuck!” The muffled sound filled the room. He thought about Georgia, about the warmth of her skin against his, about the weight of her in his arms, about her laughter in the quiet of the cabin.
And she was gone. He’d told her loved her and now she was gone.
The one thing he wanted for Christmas had just turned into the Ghost of Christmas Past.