“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 hiseyebrows, 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?Whydid 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 endin 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.
8
Now
I’m just finishing hanging up the last of my clothing from my suitcase when my phone rings with an incoming FaceTime request. My shoulders slump and I let out a heavy sigh when I see Kyle’s name light up my screen. Swiping, I accept his call.
“To what do I owe the pleasure, Kyle?” I ask him when he comes into view. He’s wearing the pair of large, wire-rimmed, blue blockers I told him make him look like a creep, and I don’t try to hide my exaggerated eye roll. “You’re ruining your perfectly good face, you realize that, right? It’s also extremely hard to take you seriously when you wear those things.”
He takes them off and makes a show of feigning frustration with me. Though, maybe he really is frustrated considering the fact I just up and left Paris yesterday and flew to Minnesota with my estranged husband instead of flying back to my place in Nashville. Oh, and he’s been texting me incessantly since I left about how furious he is with Jax for dismissing my security. I should probably feel guilty for the extra work he’s complaining of, but I honestly can’t find it in me to.
“Yeah well I don’t have time to fret over whether or not my glasses are up to your fashion standards when I’m dealing with a PR crisis surrounding your sudden disappearance right before you’re due to perform at the Summer Stampede.”
With a huff of annoyance, I murmur, “Oh stop with the theatrics, Kyle. You can spin a story better than anyone I know. Besides, I told you why I’m here.” The last part is a bit clipped because, lately, my patience is wearing thin with him.
Kyle’s eyebrows shoot up his forehead; he’s not used to me speaking my mind with him. But doing so feels right—freeing. “And I support your decision to seek a second opinion. What I don’t understand is your reasoning behind staying with the man who crushed your heart without a moment’s pause. You’re a millionaire. If you can’t find a short-term rental, buy a house, for god’s sake. One with an extra bedroom for Braidy to stay in.”
I can’t mask my sassy reaction to his suggestion, which Kyle definitely takes notice of. “And who would help take care of me while I’m healing from surgery? It’s not like I can ask that of Braidy, especially considering I hardly know the man.”
“I’ll look into an in-home nursing agency to give you round the clock care. Because I can assure you, Jackson is not the guy to rely on at a time like this. He will hurt you again, Taevin. Mark my words.”
Something about Kyle’s words and the way he said them doesn’t sit right with me. I don’t need his warnings; besides, they’re completely unwarranted. “Hard to hurt me when I plan to keep him at a distance.”
He breathes out a sigh of exasperation. “I sure hope you’re right. Now, can you please tell me what the hell the plan is for the festival?”
An idea spins to life as I think back to what Jackson admitted to me on the plane. He hasn’t played the guitar in seven years because of me. The person who taught me how to play my firstchord hasn’t played or sang because ofme. If he insists on coming along, I’m going to make a few demands of my own.
Instead of sharing the plans swirling in my head, I ask Kyle, “How many rooms are there in the hotel suite I have booked for Summer Stampede?”
“Two, why?”
“Just wanted to make sure there was a separate room for Jackson to stay in.”
Kyle’s face turns down with a frown. “Why would he be coming?”
