He nods, brushing his thumb against my kiss-swollen lips. “Can I text you?”
I duck my head, trying to hide the blush creeping up my neck as I nibble on my lip. “Ye-Yeah. I’d like that.”
He places a gentle kiss on my forehead before walking me to my truck. Opening the driver’s door, he watches me get inside before shutting me in. As I back out of the driveway, he’s still standing there, watching me leave. But this time, there’s a smile on his face.
Even after all the pain, this feels right. Like Wren and Jett, forever. The words are carved all over our two properties, on every tree we’d hide behind and steal kisses.
Our truths hurt so much because we still matter to each other. And for the first time since I came home, I let myself believe that maybe the truth is the first step back tous.
Chapter 21
Wren
Ireachformyglassof wine and take a hefty sip before placing it on the side table asDaisy Jones and the Sixplays in the background. I’ve kept my brain occupied with plans for Hannah’s Haven instead of the heavy conversations Jett and I had this week.
I curl deeper into the corner of the couch, bare legs tucked beneath me, a throw blanket half-draped over my lap for comfort. The cottage is quiet tonight, but in a way that feels less lonely than it used to. With each passing day, it starts to feel more and more like home. A place I can settle in and feel safe. The type of place I’ve been desperately searching for.
Condensation slips down the side of the wineglass catching the glow of the lamp beside me. The air smells faintly like bergamot and juniper from the candle I lit after cleaning the kitchen. It’s the same one I bought because it reminded me of him, of us.
I sing along to the song playing on TV and let the music wash over me. I’ve always been a huge Fleetwood Mac fan, and when this book came out that was loosely inspired by it, I had to read it. Now, it’s my comfort show, and I refuse to admit how many times I’ve rewatched this series since it premiered.
My phone vibrates in my lap, startling me. As I glance down, my heart kicks faster than it should.
I don’t recognize the number, but I feel the slightest bit of relief when I recognize the Silo Bay area code. The knots ease in my stomach as old instincts, old fears, start to vanish.
Unknown Number
You still watch TV with subtitles?
The feeling of being watched crawls up my neck. How do they know I have the subtitles on.
Who is this?
There’s a pause in the reply, not long, but enough for my brain to begin spiraling.
Unknown Number
Oh you know *wink face emoji*
No, I don’t. But another text immediately pops in.
Unknown Number
The same guy who got caught sneaking into your room at 1:00 in the morning because someone forgot to mute the TV.
Jett. I smile at the memory.
Doesn’t ring a bell.
The typing bubble appears instantly, but I don’t let him finish his text.
You mean the boy who tripped over my desk chair?
Jett
The chair came out of nowhere!
I let out a soft laugh, wiggling deeper into the cushions.
