Page 77 of You Wish
“Relationships have to serve a purpose, Jake. What does she bring to your life that propels you forward?” Rachel asked, and for the first time Jake was conscious of just how hard it must have been on Rachel to grow up in a house with parents who used relationships as tools—to secure deals, boost social standing, or maintain control.
Just being on the periphery had twisted Jake’s perspective on intimacy and trust. But then he remembered that he had his grandparents’ love as an example, and how pure and precious it was. It was a big difference between him and Rachel. He didn’t want a love defined by external purpose. He wanted one that was grown from the emotional connection.
Only Georgia hadn’t wanted the same.
Jake’s knees went weak at the realization, and suddenly all his strength failed him. He couldn’t fight. Couldn’t argue. Couldn’t chase. His chest felt hollow, his heart a raw, exposed thing.
Slowly, he turned, dragging himself toward his room. Every step was leaden.
He shut the door behind him with a final, hollow thud. Collapsing onto the bed, he buried his face in the pillow.
“Fuck. Fuck!” The muffled sound filled the room. He thought about Georgia, about the warmth of her skin against his, about the weight of her in his arms, about her laughter in the quiet of the cabin.
And she was gone. He’d told her loved her and now she was gone.
The one thing he wanted for Christmas had just turned into the Ghost of Christmas Past.
26
It was Christmas morning, and Jake sat slumped on the porch, elbows resting on his knees, staring at the snow-crusted ground. His boots were dusty, his gloves forgotten in his lap, but none of it registered. Not the twinkling lights, not the presents under the tree.
The world felt hollow, the laughter of the track, the hum of engines, the warmth of the cabin behind him—all meaningless without Georgia.
His grandfather sat nearby in a rocking chair, the wood creaking gently beneath him. He sipped his coffee slowly, letting Jake sit in silence, letting the wind and the quiet work on him. Jake didn’t notice the cold on his hands, didn’t notice the frosted breath escaping his lips. He only knew the ache in his chest, the way his heart refused to stop hammering, and the empty space where she should have been.
Finally, Grandpa set his mug down and broke the silence. “How you doing, son?”
Jake didn’t look up. He pressed a hand over his face, jaw tight. “Holding on.” He left out “by a thread.”
“Did you call her?”
“No. Georgia”—his voice cracked on her name—“made her intentions pretty clear.”
“Did she? Because the woman I know loved you so much it was stitched into her face like one of your grandma’s quilts.”
“She left. Again. I told her I loved her and she left without a word.”
Grandpa’s eyes softened but stayed sharp. “And you’re hurting because of that?”
Jake exhaled slowly, trying to shove down the tight knot in his throat. “I love her. I really do. But my heart can’t handle the loss.”
“So she got scared. We all do at some point. Do you think she ran to hurt you?”
“God, no. She’d never do that.” But the hurt was there all the same.
“Then do you think she ran maybe to protect you?”
“Yes. I thought that would be easier. Less messy. Safer. But now, everything feels,God, pointless. Empty. I can’t stop thinking about her.”
Grandpa rocked a little, thinking before he spoke. “Son, love ain’t some neat little thing you claim when it feels convenient. It ain’t a word you say, and then you sit back, hoping it sticks. Love’s work. It’s fight. It’s effort. Every day. Even when it scares the hell out of you. Even when it’s inconvenient. Even when it hurts more than you think you can bear.”
Jake lifted his head, his eyes hollow but glimmering with the raw edge of emotion. “I thought, just feeling it would be enough. That saying it would be enough.”
Grandpa leaned forward slightly, voice low but firm. “Loving her ain’t enough. Not by itself. Anyone can feel love. Anyone can claim it. But the ones who matter, the ones worth having, they don’t just sit there hoping it’ll work. They show up. They proveit. They stand in the storm with the one they love, even when it’d be easier to turn around and walk away.”
Jake’s hands tightened around his knees. A blinding light was going off in his head. “Damn.I let her leave. I didn’t fight for her.”
Nic’s gaze was steady, even as the wind whipped through the porch. “You think you’ve failed, maybe you have. But that don’t mean it’s over. What matters is what you do next. You want her? You’ve got to fight for her. Not just with words, Jake. With your actions. With patience. With everything you’ve got inside you.”
