by Lacey Black
“See ya,” I say, heading toward my truck cab. Before I get there, I decide to head back and check the spot where Rhenn will be installing lighting. If I know my future brother-in-law as well as I think I do, he probably already has it laid out with paint. I can check out the markings and make sure it aligns with what I already have in my head.
With my drawings in hand, I head toward the backyard, the sound of the ocean becoming more pronounced as I go. Everyone’s already gone for the day, but they left their messes behind. There’s material all over the back deck for the kitchen remodel and two new windows leaning against the siding. There’s a large dumpster in the driveway for all of the old building material, but there’s still a small pile of scrap by the back door.
I glance around quickly, confirming my guys cleaned up after themselves before heading to the very back of the property. Pink paint marks the route Rhenn will use to dig a trench and run the wiring for the new lights. When I get to the back, I can already see what they’re envisioning. There’s a small clearing with a breathtaking view of the ocean. I can practically picture the small benches or swing back here, with a few lights to illuminate the path. Solid idea in adding it, I agree, pleased to enhance this area of the yard. I make a few notes on my drawings, and roll them back up.
As I get ready to turn and head back to my truck, a familiar scent blows in with the breeze. It’s gardenia and honeysuckle, and the sweet aroma reminds me of a happier time. The memories come flooding back and I hate the longing that starts deep in my chest. Closing my eyes, I let the salty breeze wash over me, fighting against the reminiscences. God, I hate I can still smell her, feel her as if she were standing right beside me.
Opening my eyes, I gaze out at the sea, wishing things could have been different. No, I’m not wishing away my son. He’s the best part of my life and I wouldn’t go back and do everything over again if it meant losing him, but wishing for…closure. Needing it, actually. I never got it. Never heard why she left in the middle of the night. Never was told what I did wrong. Never had the chance to make it right.
Maybe being back here, I’ll finally have it.
Knowing I have a ton of work to do and only a little daylight left, I slowly turn my back to the ocean, desperately looking to put some distance between me and the honeysuckle. When I turn around, I see a woman. Her long blonde hair is piled high on her head and her gorgeous hazel eyes are wide in shock. Soft pink lips are gaped open as she stands not ten feet away from me, a look of surprise and horror written all over her beautiful face. She’s as stunning as I remember in my dreams. She stands there, the house she grew up in as the backdrop, as tears fill her eyes. It’s hard to breathe and even harder to keep myself from rushing to her, taking her in my arms.
But I don’t.
I can’t.
As much as I want to, I don’t move a muscle.
The entire world has shifted.
Everything has changed.
My Kate has come home.
Chapter Four
Kathryn
First thing I noticed when I found the man standing in my backyard was his posture. He was tense, rigid even, as he gazed out at the vast ocean, but there was something so…familiar about him. He’s tall—very tall, actually—with lean hips and long legs. My mind instantly flashes back to the man in the truck from earlier today. He felt familiar too.
It must be this place. I knew being home would conjure up ghosts I wasn’t prepared to deal with, but needed to vanquish just the same. This is my chance, my do-over, and if that means I’m going to have to go to war with memories to finally live my life as my own, then so be it.
That’s what Dad wanted.
Tears burn my eyes and I force them away. I will not cry. I’ve done enough of that, and I’m not about to start now. That’s why I’m out here, actually. It was time to get out of the house for a while. The sandy beach and the rolling waves were calling my name, so I found a pair of flip-flops that would have made my mother have a coronary, and headed out the back door.
I noticed the man right away. I waited for the familiar fear to bubble in my chest, the anxiety to take over, but it never came. Instead, I felt…relief. It’s weird the way your body can respond and the way your mind can ease just by being in the presence of a stranger. I watched him for a few moments as he wrote on a rolled up drawing he carried with him. I could sense he was part of a team, most likely the landscaping or electrical.
Then he gazed up at the sun and let the warm, salty breeze blow across his face. I knew what he was doing, because I had done the exact same thing the night before. It was the reason I talked to the electrician about adding a light back there. I could already envision a small private seating area, complete with shrubs and potted flowers. A private outside reading nook, as I deemed it.
Or maybe I’ll use it for something else.
I don’t let my mind go there. It’s hard enough to get through the day without thinking about the other thing I had lost all those years ago.
My gift.
Something draws me to this man, this stranger. I find myself taking tentative steps in his direction until I’m standing about ten feet away. That’s when he slowly turns around and my heart stops beating. The shock steals the very breath I breathe as blue eyes the same color as the ocean stare down at me.
My Jensen.
He looks the same, yet so very different. His eighteen-year-old baby face is replaced with stubble and tanned skin from spending time in the sun. Subtle lines crease the corner of his eyes and his full lips are dry and cracked. His shoulders have muscles he didn’t have back when, and through his tight T-shirt, I can see hard planes and swells of years of manual labor. Oh, yes, the years have been good to Jensen Grayson.
Suddenly, I find it hard to inhale. My vision starts to blur and the familiar panic starts to sweep in. My chest burns as I close my eyes, willing the panic to subside. It doesn’t, of course, and I place my hand out, needing to touch the ground. Strong arms wrap around my upper arms and help guide me down. The grass tickles my legs, but it’s a welcome feeling as I concentrate on breathing in and out.
“Look at me, Kate,” he says, his voice strong and firm, yet brimming with fear.
When I open my eyes, I’m comforted by those deep blue orbs that are both gentle and pained. “Can’t. Breathe.” I pant, my chest working hard.
“Keep your eyes on me,” he whispers softly, holding my gaze with his intensity. “That’s it, Butterfly, deep breaths. In through your nose and out through your mouth, nice and slow.” I do as he instructs, keeping my eyes locked on his. “You got it,” he adds when the pressure in my chest starts to subside.
It’s then I realize his hands are rubbing gentle circles over my upper arms. His touch causes a reaction to my body, but it’s not like the panicked one from a few moments ago. “Thank you,” I whisper hoarsely as my breathing starts to even out. The spots in my vision are gone, leaving mortification in its wake.
“You okay?” he asks softly, the deep timbre of his voice jolting my frayed nerve endings like never before.
I nod my head and close my eyes. “I will be.” The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, and to be honest, I’m not sure if they’re meant for him or me. I will be okay. After the divorce, the move, and still dealing with the aftermath of my father’s death, I’ll be okay. Now this? Running into the love of my life in my backyard after more than a decade? I’m not one-hundred-percent sure I’ll be okay, but I’m hoping that I will. Someday.
“What happened there?” he asks, taking a seat across from me and crossing his legs.
Embarrassment tinges my cheeks. “I, uh, sometimes have panic attacks.”
His mouth opens in shock and slowly nods his head. “Since when?”
Since when? How about since I left Rockland Falls in the middle of the night without warning or so much as a goodbye? How’s that for an answer?
Instead, I go with, “A while.”
Again, he slowly no
ds his head as if he’s just taking it all in. Me, showing back up in town and on the job he’s apparently working, no less. I’m sure he’s reeling from this revelation as much as I am. Of course, he didn’t dive full-on into a panic attack. No, those little treats are just for me.
Jensen stares at me, his blue eyes seeming to assess everything about me. I wonder what he sees, but am too afraid to ask. I’m sure he doesn’t like the woman sitting before him any more than I do. Sure, she’s still a pretty girl, but I’m willing to bet that’s clouded with hurt and deceit. Yes, I deceived him the day I told him I loved him and wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. A lie? Hell no, but a deceit nonetheless since it didn’t happen.
I open my mouth, but no words come out. I’m sorry seems too cliché, even if I truly am. His gaze drifts up and over me. I’m not sure if he’s staring off into space or at the massive house in the background.
Finally, he seems to take pity on my inability to form words. “So, you’re the new owner?” he asks, still looking over my shoulder.
“Yeah. My dad left it to me,” I state, wondering if he even heard the words over the pounding of my heart.
This draws his eyes back to me in confusion. “Left it to you?”
I nod. “In his will.”
A pained look crosses his face. “Jeezus, Kate, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
I give him a small smile. “It’s okay.” I glance over my shoulder at the structure behind me. “Six months ago. Massive heart attack.”
“And your mom?”
I roll my eyes as I turn back to face him. “She’s fine. Living in the new penthouse in New York City she bought from Justin Timberlake.” She sold the home she had shared with my father almost as soon as he was buried. Mother claimed she couldn’t live in the house anymore without him, but I think she just wanted to be closer to the action. Mother thrived on attention and the who’s who of New York City, and the family home they owned in a gated community wasn’t good enough for her.
His eyebrows shoot to his hairline. “Well, I’m still very sorry for your loss. I wish I had known,” he says almost absently.
I don’t reply, because, frankly, I don’t know what to say. Should I have called him? It had been more than eleven years since we had talked, and I didn’t want the first thing I said to him to be about my dad’s passing. Besides, I doubt he would have come to the services. They were in New York, after all. A long way from Rockland Falls, North Carolina.
“I would have paid my respects. He was always good to me,” Jensen says, the slight Southern drawl of his North Carolinian accent so pronounced. God, I’ve missed the sound of his voice.
“He liked you,” I whisper, the memories of my past threatening to make a revisit.
“He was a good man. Tough, but fair.”
Nodding, I sit there silently, trying to figure out what to say next. Again. There’s so much I want to say, yet I have no clue how to actually say the words. My mind is still reeling and my body humming with something that feels a lot like desire, though it’s been so damn long, I’m afraid I wouldn’t know what that feels like anymore. Yet, here I am, so close to the first boy I ever loved, and my entire body is alive. We’re sitting so close I can smell the mixture of sweat and soap off his skin. Instantly, I’m reminded of high school Jensen—the boy who played in the dirt but kissed me like I was the only girl on the face of the Earth.
I’m pulled from those thoughts by the vibrating of a cell phone. It’s not mine, since I left it sitting on the kitchen counter. Even though Charles agreed to the divorce, he’s not-so-subtly trying to remind me of how amazing we were together via text message. The problem is we never really were amazing or even great. Sure, we had our moments, but I truly believe we had both settled. He wanted the Stepford Wife, and I wanted what I had lost.
It didn’t work out for either of us.
Jensen pulls his phone from his pocket and glances at the screen. He goes rigid the moment he sees the message, his fingers hovering over the screen.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
My question seems to cause him more tension as his entire body tightens. He looks from the screen to me, as if he’s not sure what he’s supposed to do. “Yeah, uh, I just need to make a quick call.” I watch as he jumps up and heads back to where I originally found him.
The moment he greets the person who answers, I stand up and go to move away. His voice carries over the sound of the distant waves, though I can tell he’s trying to be quiet. “What do you mean you can’t find the baseball? I packed it in his bag.” He’s silent for a few moments as he listens to whoever’s on the other line. “Fine, I’ll run home and check.” Jensen ends the call and stares out at the water.
I should definitely move away as if I wasn’t just eavesdropping on his call, but for some reason, my feet are rooted in place. In fact, instead of stepping back, I find myself walking forward—toward him. Once I’m only a few feet away, realization sets in.
He’ll check when he gets home.
Meaning…someone needs something, something at his house.
Probably a house they share.
I don’t recall a ring on his finger, but that doesn’t mean anything. A lot of guys don’t wear a wedding ring, especially those around machinery or who do manual labor. While I had always prayed for happiness and love for Jensen, now that I’m staring at him in the face, the pit of my stomach feels like it fell to my feet. It’s an odd feeling knowing your life didn’t turn out the way you had hoped, but the one person you always wished would find a happy life has found just that.
Without you.
I swallow over the lump in my throat as he turns around. Since I had walked toward him, I’m standing uncomfortably close, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He slips his phone back in his pocket and grabs the discarded clipboard near his feet. “I need to go,” he says, yet doesn’t move a muscle.
Nodding quickly, I try to push back the tears that burn my eyes. I will not cry, I will not cry. “Of course. It sounds like your wife needs you at home.” Saying the words aloud burns my throat and pulverizes my heart.
“Ex-wife,” Jensen says, a bite in his tone.
My heart stops beating as I glance up at those impossibly blue eyes. “Oh.”
“Ashley and I have been divorced just over a year,” he says, pulling his phone from his pocket and swiping at the screen. I’m not sure what he’s doing until he hands me the device. When I glance down, I see a smiling Jensen holding a smaller version of himself. I instantly smile at the obvious love this father and son have for each other.
“Max. He’s four.”
“He’s you,” I reply, still smiling down at the image on the screen. They look so much alike it’s almost scary.
“He is,” Jensen replies, his own smile evident in his words. When he takes the phone from my extended hand, our fingers graze, shooting electric currents through my bloodstream. His eyes widen, as if maybe he felt it too, but it’s quickly dashed away as his face turns serious. “I need to head home. Max is missing his favorite baseball and I need to see if he left it at my place.”
I nod, unable to find words. A deep sadness suddenly sweeps in at the thought of Jensen leaving. We’ve barely reconnected, but I’m not ready to let him go. There’s still so much to say, so much to talk about.
“We’ll be back at seven tomorrow morning. We made great progress on the removal today. Tomorrow we should have the rest of the old cleared out and ready to plant new,” he says, standing tall and easily slipping into work mode.
Of course.
That’s why he’s here.
“Good,” I reply, my voice hoarse, as I wrap my arms around my chest to ward off the sudden chill.
He glances my way once more, his own internal battle evident in those soulful blue eyes. I want to speak, but I just can’t. For someone who’s made a decent living off of bullshitting with words, I can’t believe how much I’ve been struggling today. Yet, I know what the reason is, and he’
s standing just over six feet tall in front of me.
“I’m sure I’ll see you tomorrow,” he says, watching my every move.
Again, I nod. I seem to be doing that a lot lately.
He doesn’t say goodbye, a realization that hurts more than I could have possibly imagined, but turns and heads toward the side of the house. I only watch him go for a few seconds before it becomes too painful. Instead, I turn to the ocean and watch the waves crash along the sandy shore.
It feels like hours as I stand there and watch the water, but in reality, it’s mere seconds. Seconds I can sense eyes on me. Unable to fight it any longer, I slowly turn and find Jensen standing at the edge of the house, next to a large pile of fresh dirt. But he’s not looking at the earth. No, he’s watching me.
Our eyes connect for several heartbeats before he finally turns and walks away.
Breathing a deep sigh of relief, I gaze back to the ocean, the sound of his truck firing to life echoing off the waves. I stand there for a while, running through the day, the construction, and finally, seeing Jensen for the first time in more than a decade.
He was always the best looking boy in school, but now, Jensen Grayson is all man. A gorgeous man, at that. He obviously got married to a woman named Ashley and has a son, Max. The happiness that radiated through the wallpaper photo on his phone was evident, and reminds me of a time when I used to be standing beside him in photographs.
Pushing those thoughts aside, I head back to the house. I have a lot of cleaning I want to do yet this evening and more furniture to go through. Some of it’ll be off to the resale shop soon, but there are a few pieces I’m keeping. Yet, as much as I try to forget finding him standing in my backyard, I just can’t seem to move past it. Or the look on his face when he realized I was the new owner. Or the feeling that came over me when I thought he was married. Or the look of angst on his face when he pushed his emotions aside and walked away.
That’s the image that keeps replaying over and over again in my mind.