Page 10 of Home to You
“My marriage fell apart,” I said finally. “Or maybe it was never really solid in the first place. Turns out we had fundamentally incompatible goals in life. And my job …” I liftedmy shoulders and then let them drop, my palms slapping against my thighs. “It paid well, but I spent most days teaching from a prescribed lesson plan, feeling like I was just going through the motions.” I blew out a breath. “What you saw on Instagram was me living someone else’s idea of what my life should look like.”
His jaw tightened, and I could see him processing my words, probably wondering how much of it traced back to the choice I’d made to leave him. “I’m sorry,” he said eventually.
His kindness was almost harder to bear than anger would have been.
“I was sorry, too, to hear about your wife,” I said quietly. “Cole talks about her a lot.”
Jake’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. “My wife?”
“Uh, Jenna?” I clarified, suddenly worried I had the woman’s name wrong. “Cole’s mom?”
Understanding dawned in his eyes, followed by something that looked almost like embarrassment. He shook his head, running a hand along his jaw. “Oh. Jenna wasn’t my wife.”
I blinked. “She wasn’t?”
“No.” He cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. “We were … friends. Real good friends, in fact. Had been since we were kids. Over the years, we’d hook up sometimes when neither of us was seeing anyone else.” His voice grew quieter. “When she got pregnant, it was a surprise to both of us. But we decided to make it work—as co-parents, not as a couple.”
I stared at him, trying to process information that was reshaping everything I thought I knew. “But Cole says?—”
“During the lockdown, he and Jenna moved in with me and my brothers at the ranch. Made more sense than trying to juggle custody when everything was so crazy.” His jaw tightened. “She died that winter … car accident on an icy road. Cole’s memories of that time are a bit fuzzy.” He shrugged, but I could see thepain in his eyes. “I think in his mind, we were just one big happy family. He doesn’t really remember the details of how we all lived before then, or that Jenna and I weren’t actually together.”
His voice grew softer. “Her death was real hard, I won’t lie. She was a good friend, and Cole lost his mom. But it wasn’t …” He trailed off, then met my eyes directly. “It wasn’t romantic grief, if that’s what you’re asking.”
The ground felt unsteady beneath my feet. For the last month, I’d carried this image of Jake falling in love after I left, getting married, and building the family he’d so desperately wanted.
“I don’t understand,” I whispered.
Jake studied my face, and I saw the exact moment he realized what I’d been thinking. His expression softened, but there was something else there, too—maybe hurt that I’d assumed the worst of him.
“Seeing you again … it’s been harder than I thought it would be,” he continued quietly.
He looked down at his hands, then back up at me. “I told myself I was over you. Spent ten years trying to convince myself that what we had wasn’t real, wasn’t worth mourning.” His voice grew rougher. “That you were right to leave, that I wasn’t enough.”
He stepped closer, his right hand reaching up to cup my face. “But I was lying. To myself, to everyone.” His thumb brushed across my cheek. “But you’re still here.” He placed his left palm flat against his chest, where his heart was located. “And I don’t know what the hell to do about it. The truth is, there hasn't been anyone since you. No one who mattered.”
I staredat my bedroom ceiling. Sleep felt impossible when Jake’s words kept echoing in my head like a song stuck on repeat.
There hasn't been anyone who mattered since you.
I rolled onto my side, pulling the pillow over my head as if I could muffle my own thoughts. But there was no escaping the way his voice had gone rough when he said it or the vulnerability that flickered across his face before he looked away.
Ever since Aunt Mags told me about Jake’s son, I’d carried a story in my head of Jake moving on after I left, finding someone better suited to him, to the life he was destined for. I’d pictured him falling in love with his son’s mother, maybe even being a tiny bit grateful that I’d freed him up to find his person—someone who’d give him the family and future he desperately wanted.
The narrative had been oddly comforting in its own twisted way. It meant that my leaving hadn’t destroyed him. But now that story lay in pieces around me.
The thought made my chest ache in a way I wasn't prepared for.
I sat up, running my hands through my hair. I threw off the covers and padded to the kitchen, needing to move, to do something with the restless energy thrumming under my skin. I filled the kettle with shaking hands, my mind spinning through every interaction we’d had since I'd been back.
His hesitation around me suddenly made more sense. The way he’d pulled back at the fundraiser meeting, the careful distance he maintained at school pickup, that flash of something that looked suspiciously like jealousy when he’d asked me aboutBen. I’d attributed it all to old resentment, but what if it had been something else entirely?
The kettle whistled, and I poured hot water over a chamomile tea bag, watching the steam curl in the dim light. My hands continued to tremble as I lifted the mug to my lips, a million thoughts swirling around in my brain.
The questions I’d been avoiding all night brought forth a flood of emotions I’d spent years trying to bury. Because the truth was, seeing Jake again had awakened something in me I’d thought was dead. The way my pulse quickened when he looked at me, the way my skin seemed to remember his touch even after all this time. I’d been telling myself it was just nostalgia, just the pull of first love and a shared history.
But standing in my aunt’s dark kitchen, I couldn’t lie to myself anymore.
I still loved him.
