Page 79 of You Wish
The words caught, but she forced them out, every one tearing free from the place she’d buried them. “And now? Now I turned around and did it to you. I walked out. Decided for you. Decided we couldn’t work without even giving you the choice. I swore I’d never be like her. I swore it. But that’s exactly who I became yesterday morning.”
Her whole body shook with the confession. The porch blurred through her tears. “I thought I was protecting you. Protecting us. But all I did was run. And I can’t live with myself ifI make you feel the way she made me feel. If I love you and then just take it away.”
“You love me?” he whispered. “You’ve never said it before.”
“I was too afraid before.”
“And now?”
She wrapped her arms around her middle, as if she could hold herself together. “I love you, Jake. I love you so much it hurts.”
For a heartbeat the only sound was the wind through the pines, the creak of the porch boards beneath their boots. Then Jake moved, quick and sure, closing the distance. His arms wrapped around her, pulling her hard against him. She collapsed into his chest, the steady thump of his heart louder than the storm inside her.
“You’re not your mom,” he whispered into her hair, his voice fierce, steady. “And I’m not Connor. Someone you have to protect and pretend with. I’m me. I don’t run when things get hard, or cower when I’m scared, and I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that.”
Her knees buckled, and she sobbed against him, clutching fistfuls of his jacket.
Jake tipped her chin up, his thumb brushing away the wet streaks on her cheeks. His eyes burned with a fire that nearly undid her.
“You should’ve given me the choice. You’re right about that. But I’m telling you now—I’d choose you. Every damn time. No matter the risk. No matter the mess. You’re my world, Georgia. Nothing else matters if I can’t share it with you.”
The words broke her wide open. She nodded through the tears, her voice trembling but certain. “I choose you, Jake. Every damn time,” she repeated his words. “That’s why I’m going to stay and fight. With you.”
He kissed her then, hard and tender all at once, like a man clinging to life itself. The porch light flickered above them, the snow swirled around their tangled silhouettes, and for the first time since she was a girl, Georgia felt steady. Home.
When they finally pulled apart, shivering, Jake pressed his forehead to hers. “Come inside. Please. I don’t want you out here freezing when I’ve only just gotten you back.”
She let him lead her in, their hands twined, her boots squeaking on the wood floor. The cabin was warm and glowing, the fire in the hearth painting everything in gold. Jake didn’t let her go, even when he guided her to the couch.
She sank down, her hands twisting in her lap, the weight of everything she’d confessed still heavy in her chest.
“Jake, it’s not just my mom. It’s more than that. You’re an F1 driver. You live half a world away. I don’t want kids, and even if I did—” Her voice cracked, soft and aching. “Even if I did, there’s a chance they’d end up like my brother. Infections. Pain. Hospitals. I can’t put someone I love through that. I can’t.”
Jake crouched in front of her, his big hands closing over hers, grounding her. His voice was steady, unwavering. “We’ll figure it out. All of it. My job. The distance. Kids or no kids. None of that scares me half as much as losing you. I don’t need easy, darlin’. I just need you.”
Her breath hitched, the weight in her chest easing for the first time in years.
And in that moment—sitting on his couch with the fire crackling and Jake’s hands anchoring her—she finally believed they could build something real, something worth the fight.
EPILOGUE
Christmas morning, one year later…
The barn didn’t look like the barn anymore.
Sure, the bones were the same—the wide beams he’d nearly broken his back sanding down, the loft where hay used to pile high, the doors that had groaned every time someone shoved them open. But tonight, it glowed. Fairy lights zigzagged across the rafters like stars caught indoors. Mason jars stuffed with poinsettias and white roses lined the aisle, their scent mingling with cedar from the polished floorboards. Fresh paint gleamed where age-old grime used to cling, and the air hummed with fiddle strings and quiet laughter.
Jake stood at the front, just beneath an arch wound with ivy and red roses, his hands clasped behind his back. He had raced in Monaco, in Silverstone, in front of a hundred thousand screaming fans. He had stared down hairpin turns at two hundred miles an hour with his heart hammering against his ribs. He’d even won the World Championship. But nothing—nothing—had made his chest this tight.
The crowd rose as the music swelled. For a moment, time tilted. His pulse thudded in his ears, and his eyes fixed on thefigure walking slowly down the aisle. Every part of him leaned forward, waiting, bracing, wanting.
The minister’s voice carried over the hush. “We are gathered here today to celebrate a love story that has stood the test of time…”
And just like that, reality clicked into place. It wasn’t Georgia walking toward him. It was his grandmother.
Joy Evans, radiant in a soft blue dress, her silver hair pinned back with delicate combs, moved with slow, certain grace. Nic stood at the other end, shoulders square, grinning like a boy seeing his sweetheart for the first time. The lines on his face deepened as his eyes shone, and when Joy reached him, his hands shook as he took hers.
“…as Nicholas and Joy renew the vows they first made to one another sixty years ago.”
