Authors: Lisa de Jong
Flinging my purse onto my desk, I fall into my desk chair and slouch down. “When Janet called me to tell me I had to make a decision on my internship right away, I went to her office. I was still pretty bruised up, and with a few questions and a mini-mental breakdown in her office, I told her what happened. Kevin, the News Director is her brother. She told me the internship was mine if I wanted it, but she made going to counseling a condition of my internship,” I explain.
“Can she do that?” he asks.
I actually laugh. “No, I don’t think so, but I was so desperate to escape, I took her up on the offer.” I realize how those words must hurt him. “But Dr. Peterson has been wonderful; she’s really helped me work through a lot of my issues, but I know I still have a long road ahead of me.”
Gabe nods his head in understanding. “So that’s why you left so quickly, to escape?” he asks timidly. I know he fears overstepping his boundaries.
“Kind of. The other reason was you. I know I hurt you when I broke up with you.” I feel a lump form in my throat, but I need to tell him this. “Every day when I would look out my window, get in my car, or lie in my bed, all I saw was you.”
Interrupting, he snaps at me, “And what was wrong with that?” His eyes are squinting and he looks angry.
“Nothing is wrong with that, and everything was wrong with that,” I offer. “I felt at that time you deserved better. Mentally, physically, and emotionally I was broken,” I mumble. “You deserved someone who wasn’t—me.”
Moving closer to me, he bends down so we’re eye to eye. Sitting forward in my chair, I lean into him, our faces mere inches apart. “Do you still feel that way? That I deserve someone better?” he asks quietly, his eyes softening.
“Sometimes,” I say honestly and divert my eyes to a picture hanging on the wall of my cube.
Grabbing my chin lightly, he turns my head back toward him. “All I have ever wanted was you and is still you. You are what I deserve,” he whispers. Pressing his lips to mine, he offers me the softest, sweetest kiss. “Understand me?” he asks, still not releasing his grip on my chin.
“Understand,” I quietly return.
“Good.”
With that, he stands up, pulling me up out of my chair. “Now show me around this place so we can go to the beach.” He laughs and takes a hold of my hand. For the next half hour, I show him the ins and outs of a small TV station. He genuinely seems interested and smiles when I get excited about teleprompters and newsfeeds.
The afternoon is spent lying on a blanket in the soft sand at the beach just outside my condo. Conversation is easy, just like it used to be. But there is an unsettling feeling that hovers around us. I know he feels it too as he’s been a bit more quiet and restless for the last few hours.
Lying on our backs, his fingers are laced through mine, just like we used to do. Pulling my hand to his mouth, he runs his lips over all of my knuckles and places gentle kisses to the top of my hand.
“Jess,” he says. “Come home.” It’s a quiet plea. “I need you with me in California.”
“So much has changed,” I say. “I’ve pushed everyone I care about out of my life: you, Ava, Mom, and Dad. I’m almost embarrassed to go home.” Sitting up, he looks down at me as I fling my arm over my eyes to hide the tears rolling down my temples and into my hair.
“Everyone misses you and wants you to come home, not just me,” he says.
“I know,” I whisper. “I’m just not sure I’m ready yet.”
“Will you ever be ready? Or will I be waiting forever?” he asks quietly.
“I don’t know,” I tell him through my tears and in a shaky voice. The look on his face is desperation, and sadness. The damage I’ve caused is heartbreaking, and I hate myself for it. The rest of the evening is filled with moments of awkward silence. We’re tiptoeing around the delicate subject of “us.”
“What time do you have to leave tomorrow?” I ask him as we sit on the living room floor, picking at our Thai take-out.
“Eight o’clock. I have to drive back to Charlotte and return the rental car before my two o’clock flight,” he says, pushing his food back and forth across his plate.
“Gabe?” I say quietly. Reaching out, I place my hand on his arm, stilling him. Looking at my hand, he drops his fork and places his other hand over mine, but he won’t look at me.
“I’m really happy you’re here,” I say.
“Me too.” He squeezes my hand.
I don’t sleep for all but ten minutes over the course of the night. I toss and turn and watch the minutes tick away on the alarm clock that sits on the bedside nightstand. Finally, around seven in the morning, I pull myself out of bed and take a quick shower. Putting his fire department t-shirt back on, I pull on some clean yoga pants and head downstairs to make coffee. By the time my feet hit the second stair on my way down, I see him. There he sits on the loveseat with his already packed bag lying on the floor. He’s staring at the wall, deep in thought.
“Hey,” I say.
“Hey.” He turns toward me and responds with a half smile.
He looks as bad as I feel. The dark circles under his eyes are even darker. He looks exhausted. Sitting down on the loveseat next to him, I run my hand over his unshaven face, stopping to run my thumb over his lower lip. His hand stops mine and pulls it away from his mouth.
“When did you get this?” he asks, running his finger across my barely healed tattoo on my inner left wrist. “I noticed it yesterday, but forgot to ask,” he says.
“Last week.”
“What does it mean?” he asks, tracing each letter of the script that is barely visible against my skin.
“Unbreakable,” I whisper.
“Unbreakable,” he whispers back, running his fingers back and forth, over and over again across my wrist.
“I finally decided that I can’t let circumstances or events that I have no control over break me,” I offer. “No better reminder than to have it front and center every day where I have to see it and can’t forget it,” I explain. A small smile crosses his face, and he pulls my inner wrist to his lips. He closes his eyes and gently presses small kisses along my wrist and over the tattoo.
“I have to go.” His voice breaks. Clearing his throat, he stands up, still holding my hand. He pulls me into a hug and I wrap myself around him.
“I love you,” I whisper in his ear. “Thank you for finding me.”
“I love you too. God, you have no idea how much I love you.”
Pulling away from me, he saunters over to his bag, picks it up, and turns back to me. “I will wait for you. When you are ready to come home, I’ll be there. I will always wait for you.” And that’s when I knew there is no one in this world for me other than Gabe Garcia.
Chapter 43
Landon
“Turn down Beach Avenue,” I direct Matt as I do every shift we work. Driving past her condo has become a ritual for me when we’re on duty.
“Have you talked to her?” Matt asks, his voice masked with sympathy.
“Nope,” I reply abruptly. “Only two more days of you driving my sorry ass past her place,” I reply quietly. “She’s moving back to California.” The patrol car is silent except for the radio broadcasting calls. Matt has turned the volume so far down, that it’s almost inaudible.
“Sorry, brother,” Matt says.
“It’s okay. It’s what’s best for her.” Saying those words, even thinking them, is fucking killing me. I keep my attention focused out my window, trying to not get emotional. “She was different,” I say, turning my head to look at Matt.
“I know,” he says, nodding his head in agreement. “I’ve never seen you like this over any woman. She has to be something. I really am sorry.”
“Thanks,” I reply, knowing he’s right. I fuck women. I use them and dispose of them. I don’t care about their feelings, and I certainly don’t fall in love with them. Until Jess.
“You need to say goodbye to her, man. Don’t let her leave without talking to her,” he says. I listen to him and take his words to heart, but I don’t know if I can stomach seeing her. I don’t let people in, and she is in a place I didn’t know existed.
“Yeah, we’ll see.”
“Do it, man,” he tells me.
“Let’s go eat. I’m starving,” I say, changing the subject and taking my mind off of the one thing that has consumed my every thought for the last three months.
****
“Hey, big brother,” Lindsay announces as she rounds the corner into the kitchen. I’m sitting at the small table, drinking coffee and reading the latest Sports Illustrated.
“Hey, little sister,” I respond. “You look nice,” I say, looking at her in a little black dress with knee high black leather boots on. Pouring herself a mug of coffee, she joins me at the kitchen table.
“Thanks. We’re all taking Jess to lunch for her last day,” she says quietly, looking down at her mug and blowing the steam off of the coffee. “You should meet us,” she says timidly, awaiting my normal tense reaction.
“Nah. Have a great time, though. You really do look nice,” I say, laying the magazine on the table and taking my mug of coffee with me to the living room.
“Just call her, Landon. Text her. Say goodbye to her. Neither of you will talk to me about each other. I’ve never seen you like this,” Lindsay pleads with me, her voice becoming fainter the further away I walk. My throat dries up, and I swallow hard. I’ve honestly never felt like this. All of these emotions are new to me as well.
“We’ll see,” I toss back over my shoulder.
I’ve only ever dealt with losing one person I cared about: my mom. I vowed to never let a woman into my heart to the point where I’d get hurt, but I did. My gut tells me to just let her go, but my heart tells me to say goodbye. The decision is simple really; I only ever listen to my gut, but fuck if my heart isn’t trying to win this battle.
Chapter 44
Jess
Shoving the last suitcase into the back of my SUV, I slam the door and pray I can still see through the rearview mirror out my back window. Kevin is shipping a few boxes back to me in California that won’t fit in my car. Walking up the sidewalk, into the condo to get my purse and lock up, I can’t help but remember what it felt like to walk this same sidewalk three months ago. What a different person I was then. A shell of what I am now.
I have grown immensely, moving across the country for an internship, meeting some of the greatest friends I know I’ll ever have, and for the therapy that has helped me forge a path to healing. I know I have a long way to go, but I feel hopeful for my future. I know that my leaving California, on the terms I did, was selfish, and I hurt many people. I’m ready to make amends, but I won’t regret my time here in Wilmington.
Taking one last look around this beautiful condo, I can’t help but wonder what everyone will think when I show up in California. No one knows I’m coming, not even Dad. Gabe and I text and talk daily, working to repair the damage I did by shutting him out, but I needed to make the decision to move home on my own accord. This is about me, not Gabe.
Locking the door to the condo, I place the key under the doormat as Kevin has instructed me. Holding the key to my SUV in my hand, I take one last look at the amazing beach that lies straight ahead. I will miss the sounds and smells of the ocean. It’s become a needed form of therapy for me, to sit on the soft sands of its beaches, and just think.
My heart stops when I see him, leaning against the side of my car. Wearing dark jeans and a tight white t-shirt, his sandy brown hair is messy, and a five o’clock shadow outlines every ridge of this jaw. I can’t help but smile when I hear that sweet Southern accent drawl out, “Hey, baby girl.”
My pace quickens until I’m standing right in front of him. “What are you doing here?” My pulse is racing.
“Wasn’t going to let you leave without saying goodbye.” He smiles at me with his perfect mouth. Reaching out, he pulls me into a firm hug. I will never forget his smell; light, masculine, and comforting. We stand, hugging each other for at least a minute. I can feel his heartbeat against my chest. Finally pulling back, I look into his beautiful blue eyes.
“Thank you for calling Gabe,” I say, my voice finally breaking and tears spilling out from my eyes. “You were right, you know.”
“I’m always right, baby girl,” he says with a chuckle, wiping the tears from under my eyes with the pads of his thumbs. “I should be thanking you,” he says with his eyes focused intently on mine. “I didn’t know I had the capacity to feel love for anyone, and somehow, you broke down those walls that were barricading my heart. So, thank you.”
“FFLs?” I ask him.
“FFLs? What the hell is that?” he asks me, laughing.
“Friends for life,” I say.
“Always. FFLs.”
“Oh, and hey,” I raise my left arm and flash him my inner wrist. “It means ‘unbreakable.’”
Grabbing my wrist, he presses his lips to the white script tattoo just like Gabe did. Slowly releasing my hand, he moves to open my car door, waiting for me to step in. I toss my purse over to the passenger side seat and he moves closer so that he can close the door after I get inside. Before I sit down, he wraps his large hand around my upper arm, pulling me toward him. Standing there, just inches from him again, he leans in and presses a soft kiss to my forehead.
“Bye,” I whisper as I pull away from him and get into my car. With a nod, he closes my door. Backing out of my parking spot, I roll down my window.
“Take care of Linds for me.”
“Always have, always will, baby girl. Be safe.” He forces a smile. Memories of Landon will be etched in my heart forever. I will cherish his honesty, trust, and friendship for the rest of my life. With a raised hand, he mouths “bye” to me, and I leave him standing next to his motorcycle, beginning my three-day drive back to California.
****
Time stands still as I make that last turn onto Lawson Street, the street where I grew up between two different homes. Dad’s truck is gone, which means he’s at the fire station—shocker. At this hour, I will go unnoticed. It’s after midnight, so I grab just my purse and small bag with clothes and toiletries. Checking the hanging planter for the house key, I find it exactly where it was left. Some things never change.