Page 78 of You Wish
Jake exhaled shakily, the truth of those words settling deep into him. Every proud moment, every victory, every accolade he had ever earned seemed empty compared to the ache of losing her. He had claimed he loved her—but he hadn’t done the one thing that mattered: proving it.
Grandpa reached over and rested a hand on his shoulder. “Start simple. Start by deciding she’s worth it. Then start walking toward her. Every step counts. Don’t worry about the fear or the risk. Just start. Show her; don’t tell her. If she’s the one, she’ll see it. If not, at least you’ll know you didn’t let fear steal it from you.”
Jake closed his eyes, chest heaving. He felt the weight of his heartbreak, the dull ache that had settled into every muscle, but beneath it, a spark ignited. A fragile flame of determination. Love wasn’t enough to just feel—it had to be shown. It had to be fought for.
“I have to fix this,” he murmured, voice low but determined. “I have to make her see that all the obstacles don’t matter. That together we can make the impossible possible.”
Nic gave a small, approving nod. “That’s my boy. Remember, the hardest fights are always the ones worth having.”
Jake sat there a long moment, letting the wind sting his face, letting the cold sharpen the ache in his chest into somethinghe could hold on to—something he could turn into resolve. He thought about her laugh, the way she fit in his arms, the warmth of her skin, the way the world felt right when she was near.
He pushed off the porch, shoulders squared. The porch grumbled beneath his boots, the air cold and biting, but he hardly noticed. One thought hammered in his mind over and over: If he truly loved Georgia, he wasn’t going to let her go without proving it.
“I gotta go,” he said, rushing into the house to grab his truck keys.
“Where you off to in such a rush?” Rachel asked from the kitchen doorway.
“I have a wish that needs to be granted, and I know the perfect wish giver to help.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“No, letting her go was a mistake. Using my career as an obstacle was a mistake. Georgia? She isn’t a mistake. She’s my person and if you can’t support that then maybe we need to redefine our contract.”
Rachel’s mouth dropped open in surprise and hurt. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“Lose your client or your brother?”
“My brother,” she whispered.
“Then you need to support me in chasing happy and not first place.”
Jake opened the front door and nearly ran into a curvy, Christmas dream wrapped in denim, a fuzzy green sweater, and matching green scarf and hat.
“Georgia,” burst from his lungs in surprise.
Georgia stood on the porch,snowflakes clinging to her lashes, her boots half-buried in the fresh powder. Her chest ached from the climb up the hill, each breath burning as it left her lungs in ragged puffs. But she hardly noticed the cold.
It hit her slowly, like dawn creeping over the horizon — soft and golden, but impossible to ignore. For so long, she’d measured her life in other people’s happiness. Her mother’s approval. Connor’s comfort. Jake’s peace. She’d reshaped herself to fit into what everyone else needed, telling herself it was noble, selfless—safe. But now, sitting in the glow of this life she was building, she realized it wasn’t just their dreams she was living. It was hers.
Her pulse kicked up, equal parts exhilaration and terror. Because claiming this—wanting this—meant owning the risk too. Love wasn’t a guarantee. It was a leap. And if she opened her heart fully, she wasn’t just letting joy in. She was inviting loss to sit beside it.
For the first time, that didn’t make her want to run. It made her want to hold tighter. To savor every heartbeat, every breath, every impossible, breathtaking moment. Maybe that was the point—that love was only precious because it was fragile. And maybe she was done trying to build a life without cracks.
Her throat ached, a sting behind her eyes she didn’t bother to blink away.
This is mine, she thought, the words landing with quiet certainty. This life. This love. This risk. Mine.
She had told herself that leaving was noble, that putting space between them was the kind thing to do. Jake deserved someone uncomplicated, someone who didn’t come with a trailof scars and a heart too splintered to trust. But every mile driven away from the cabin had been like tearing herself in half. She hadn’t lasted one night in her lonely house before the ache inside her screamed louder than her pride.
She had a whole speech planned out for what she was going to say, but then the door opened and she forgot every last word. Because on the other side, chest heaving, jacket half-zipped, hair mussed like he’d raked his hands through it a hundred times, was Jake.
His eyes widened when he saw her, raw and searching, and for a beat neither of them breathed.
“Jake,” she said, the word tumbling out too fast, too broken. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have left. I thought I was doing the right thing, but—” Her voice cracked, tears blurring her vision. “But all I’ve done is miss you. I can’t breathe without you.”
His mouth parted, but he didn’t speak. His silence hit like a blow, and before she could stop herself, everything came spilling out—the shame, the fear, the wound she’d carried for years.
“I did the same damn thing my mom did to me,” she whispered, voice shaking. “When my brother got sick, she made that choice for both of us. She let him go. She never gave me a say, never let me fight for him. And I hated her for that, Jake. I hated her with everything in me because she stole my chance to love him the way he deserved.”
