I hesitated, my thoughts racing. This was probably the part where I was supposed to back off, respect boundaries, maybe even send him a nice text and leave it at that.
“I know you’re not supposed to,” I started cautiously, “but could you send me the address of where he’s staying?”
There was a pause. I held my breath, expecting a firmno, but instead, Chloe said:
“I’m texting it to you now.” Wait.What?“Mr. Jones added you to his family list a few months back,” she continued. “High priority, too. I can give you access to anything you like.”
Family.
“Thank you, Chloe,” I replied.
“You are quite welcome, Ms. Davis,” she said before ending the call.
I pulled the car over to the side of the road, my heartracing. Her text buzzed on my phone, and I quickly opened it. There it was—the address.
Boston.
Four hours.
Fuck. That was a long drive. If I was going to back down, now was the perfect time. No one would blame me.
Not this time. Every fiber of my being was screaming for one thing, and I was finally listening. I wanted to see Chris. No second-guessing, no overthinking. I punched the address into my GPS, the soft voice chiming,“Four hours and fifteen minutes to your destination.”
“You got this. It’s fine. Totally fine. Be polite and say thank you… right?” I glanced around like someone might actually answer.
Who was I even talking to?
I let out a sharp breath.
Fuck it, right or wrong. Fuck it, planning and overthinking it. Just… go.
33
CHRIS
Relentless knocking echoed through the entire house. It bounced off the high ceilings and the polished floors, filling every corner. The house always felt too big for one person, and you could still feel the faint scent of cedar and leather from new furniture in the air. The doorbell chimed, slicing through the silence again.
“What the hell?” I muttered, pushing off the couch and striding toward the door. Whoever this was, they were about to get an earful. I swung the door open, ready to say something, but then I froze.
Jules.
She was standing there, looking up at me with those wide caramel eyes that could make me forget how to breathe. For a second, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, but the cold wind rushing in brought her scent—chamomile—with it.
“Hi,” she said softly, almost unsure.
“Oh… Hi,” I replied, caught completely off guard. I was staring at her like an idiot. She was really here. After convincing myself I’d never see her again, she was standing onmy doorstep.Say something.“I’m sorry. Come on in,” I managed, stepping aside to let her in. She moved past me into the house, and I stood there, still processing.
Jules was inmy house.
I turned to close the door, taking a deep breath before I looked at her again. Her red hair fell in soft waves down her back, catching the light just right. I had dreamed of her being here more times than I could count. The house looked different in the dreams. Better, warmer… more like a home. But this wasn’t a dream. And I honestly didn’t know what to do with that.
She was nervous. The way her hands clenched, her nails digging into her palms. I knew that habit of hers too well. My chest tightened. I wanted to do something, anything, to help her.Say something. Offer her a drink, a chair, anything to get her to loosen those hands before she left marks.
“Is everything ok?” I asked, finally finding my voice. I wasn’t one to catastrophize, but if she was here—after everything I’d done—there had to be a serious reason for it.
She turned around to face me, her eyes meeting mine, and I searched her face for answers. Was she here to yell at me? To forgive me? To tell me to move on?
“Yeah. Everything’s good,” she said, but her hands were still clenched. I noticed them again, unable to stop myself from staring. I debated pointing it out, but before I could, she saw me looking and awkwardly adjusted herself, hiding her hands.
