I watch from almost twenty feet away, wiping my hands on my jeans. She hasn’t seen me yet. Even exhausted and blindsided, she still looks like the one thing in the world I’d risk everything for.
She kneels slowly beside a drawing, brushing her fingers over the picture. Her lips move as she reads the words above it.
And then another. And another.
Her pace slows, her breath catches, and she finally looks up and sees me.
I walk toward her.
“I thought I was writing songs about heartbreak,” I say. “Or small towns. Or chasing dreams. But looking at it now…” I glance at the chalk. “You were always in them. Even when I didn’t realize it. Even when it was just about the love of a friend.”
She opens her mouth like she wants to say something, but no sound comes out.
I stop in front of her. Her eyes are glassy, but she doesn’t cry.
“I didn’t mean to leave you behind,” I say, voice low. “I thought I was doing the right thing—making sure I didn’t lose the one thing I blew up my entire life to get. But it doesn’t matter if I own every song in the world and lose the one person who actually makes the world feel like something worth singing about.”
She closes her eyes. Breathes in slow.
And I take a step back, just enough to speak louder. To make sure she hears me. To make sure the whole damn neighborhood hears me if they have to.
“I love you,” I say, my voice rising. “And I will spend the rest of my days bringing you coffee, never playing another note again, if that’s what it takes to make you believe me.”
Chapter forty-eight
Izzy
Hisconfessionseepsintome, slowly at first, then flooding every corner of my being. My chest feels too full, my ribs too tight to contain everything that’s suddenly alive inside me. It’s not just the words—it’s the way he says them. The way his voice cracks, terrified and hopeful all at once.
The world blurs at the edges. The air between us is charged, like the seconds just before a storm breaks. My hand trembles as I reach for him, not because I’m unsure, but because I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life.
His breath brushes my skin, and that’s it. The dam inside me breaks.
I rise onto my toes and softly press my lips against his. It’s gentle at first—tentative—a question and an answer tangled together. His hand finds my cheek, thumb brushing away a tear I didn’t know had fallen. His other hand presses against my lower back and pulls me to him, deepening our connection.
The kiss feels like a sunrise—quiet, golden, and full of promise. Every apology, every ache, everyalmostbetween us burns away until there is just us—mouths, warmth, hearts beating together.
When he finally pulls back, his forehead rests against mine, both of us breathing hard. The world starts to take shape again—slowly, reluctantly—and all I can think is that if this is what forever feels like, I’ll wait for it a thousand times over.
So, I kiss him again, because I can. Because I want to. And when I finally manage to form words, my voice comes out quiet but sure.
“Now,” I whisper, brushing my thumb along his jaw, “you’re going to explain everything you drew to me.”
The sidewalk chalk covers my fingers. My knees ache from crouching beside the drawings, listening as Jaxon explains the memories tied to each of the pictures and lyrics. My throat burns, but not from tears—I’m too stunned to cry.
I don’t know how to explain the feeling of seeing your entire past spelled out in sidewalk chalk. Of watching someone lay every lyric, every quiet memory, every almost-love on the pavement like an apology and a promise at the same time.
And now he’s just…standing there. In front of me. Like he could be mine forever.
I throw my arms around him, letting my body sink into his the way I’ve been dying to since he left. We hold each other for a long minute. Long enough for the tightness in my chest to loosen. Long enough for the scent of him—soap, sweat, that faint something I realize now associates with safety—to slip past my defenses.
Then I pull back.
“Come on,” I say, nodding toward the porch.
Jaxon gives me a small, hopeful smile and follows me up the sidewalk to our front door.
We sit side by side on the top step, close but not touching. I wrap my arms around my knees, trying to keep the warmth of him at bay until I figure out what the hell to do with it.
