Page 57 of A Summer Thing

Chapter Thirty-One

Declan

Three months later, I’m boarding a plane back to New York.

I spent the entire summer in Oklahoma, with Addy and the Masons, getting my life back on track.

A new healthcare plan, new doctors, new prescriptions, and a new therapist that have all helped me view myself, the things I’ve been through, and my mental health in a brand new way.

I won’t be wavering about how seriously I take care of my mind and my body from here on out, and now, I’ve got the resources and support behind me to make sure that I do, too.

While I’ve had years to separate myself from the ugliness of the life I left behind, my hardest lesson to learn was that those hurts were still lingering beneath the surface, buried underneath the soil of time.

Abandonment issues brought on by my parents.

Feeling like I wasn’t enough—not being able to trust, deep down, that the people I loved would stay.

The accumulation of everything that happened in a few short months dug these issues up and brought them to the surface, forcing me to face them and so much more. I’m not proud of the way it all unfolded, but I am happy it did, regardless.

Humans are imperfect; that’s what makes us beautiful. And finally, I’ve learned to believe that about myself, too.

I can’t change the things that have happened to me, and the many ways they’ve affected me, but I can change the outcome. I can choose who I want to be, and what I want my life to look like, on the other side of it all. And that’s exactly what I’ve been doing.

I’ve never felt better in my own skin. Or more importantly, in my own mind.

There is nothing left to run from. Nothing left to hide from. And while I know that healing is not linear, I’m no longer afraid to reach for the things I want most in life. I’m no longer afraid, period.

And the very first thing I want to reach for, is Jude.

______

I call him as soon as I land.

My heart racing, my hands shaking, my palms sweating.

Ring, ring, ring. Ring, ring, ring. The line continues to ring until I’m connected to his voicemail.

“Hey, it’s Jude. Leave a message.”

I inflate my lungs and part my lips to do just that, doing my best to ignore the way my stomach dips with disappointment at the fact that he didn’t answer, when my phone vibrates against my cheek with a new call. I pull it away from my ear and see Jude’s name and face lighting up my screen.

I slide my finger over the accept button with my heart in my throat.

“Hello?” I say, the single word holding every emotion barely contained inside me.

“Hey, Little D,” he responds, and the low, comforting timbre of his voice—after not hearing it for three long months—feels like being wrapped up in the warmest, softest, coziest blanket. There’s a lightness in his tone, too. In his soft, relieved exhale.

My own surge of relief sends a rushing shiver up my spine, even as the ache of missing him burrows deeper into my chest.

Did he miss me, too? Has he been counting down the days as much as I have?

The night I left with Addy is a complete blur.

I was so upset, so angry, so lost, and I sure as hell didn’t have my head on straight.

One minute I was upset with Addy and storming out of our shared dorm room, and the next I was crashing into Jude, and almost getting myself hit by that car, and I—I’ll never forget the broken look on Jude’s face when he desperately searched me from head to toe to make sure I was okay.

It was that look alone that pulled me out of the dark ocean I’d been drowning in.

The surety that I had some big changes to make flooded into my psyche in its absence, and it was all I could see.

I didn’t need a break from him, though. I needed space from every mistake that had accumulated in my life, landing me on that sidewalk with him, broken and angry and lost. I needed a break from feeling like I was failing him as much as I was failing myself.

I told him I needed the summer, until the fall semester started, to get back on track and start healing all the pieces of me I’d broken in the few months prior, and that’s exactly what he did.

Without question, without a fight, he gave me the time I needed to get my head on straight again.

Away from the pressures of work and needing to earn and save every dollar I could.

Away from the pressures of school—classes, and coursework, and labs.

Away from the disappointment of finding myself falling short in what I knew Jude needed and deserved, too. Away from the pressures of… life.

But maybe… maybe he decided he was going to stop waiting. That he was tired of waiting. That I was no longer worth waiting for—

I silence the unwelcome thoughts with a deep breath and say, “I just landed in New York. Would you want to meet me for coffee?”

“Coffee?”

“Yeah.”

“Coffee.” He clears his throat. “That’s where we’re at. Okay. Yeah. Of course. Let’s do coffee.”

I’m the one who suggested it, but now getting coffee feels entirely stupid. I just wanted to do anything, anything, as long as it involved Jude and me together in a room as soon as humanly possible.

But I’m making this awkward.

Because I’m nervous.

And because I truly don’t know what to expect now that I’m here.

I have a million wishes, hopes, and dreams sitting patiently in my mind for what today might mean for us, but I don’t know what any of his expectations are. His hopes. His wishes. His dreams. If any of them still include me in any capacity whatsoever.

Call me as soon as you’re ready, Little D. I’ll be waiting, are the final things he said to me that evening, but it still left a lot unspoken. Even more questions left in the wake of three months spent apart.

And that’s where the nerves come in.

Does he still love me? Does he still want to be with me? Is this relationship still worth fighting for, for him? Does he still see a future with me, beyond our deep, irrevocable friendship?

He sent me flowers a few times, and I know he’s been checking up on me through Addy, but I’m not sure what any of it means. Not really.

“Penny House?” he asks, naming the coffee shop I’ve worked at for three years now. It’s as good as any.

“Okay, yeah. Penny House.”

“Alright, I’ll see you soon, b—Declan. I’ll see you soon.”

______

I tuck myself into a back booth, too nervous to order anything at the counter. I shake and shake and shake my foot beneath the table, worn leather denting beneath my fingertips as I dig them deeper into the bench underneath me.

It’s 3:09, I spot, when I glance down at my watch.

Maybe he isn’t coming after all. Maybe he’s changed his mind. Maybe three months apart made him realize his life would be a lot easier without me in it. Maybe—

The familiar ting rings near the front door as it opens, the audible roar of the city rushing in with a light breeze that kicks up random fliers pinned to the tackboard on the wall.

Jude’s towering frame takes up the entire space of the doorway. His presence takes up the entire space of my heart.

Commanding attention.

Demanding to be seen.

Stealing all the oxygen from the room—all the oxygen from my lungs.

It wasn’t even a question in my mind, but all it takes is this one look at him, and I know, I still love him. I love him with everything I am, and with everything in me.

I stand from my seat with my heartbeat pulsing in my throat and take a step toward him.

He clears the coffee shop in three long strides.

And then he’s grasping my face, his hold almost desperate.

A breath rushes out of him as he closes his eyes and brings his forehead down to meet mine.

We’re nose to nose, forehead to forehead, lips to lips.But we’re not kissing.

Just frozen, halted within the moment. It’s hard to breathe.

Hard to do anything but hold my tears at bay as they sting at my eyes, begging to be set free.

There’s been this weight on my chest, and it hasn’t left since I saw him last. But now, it flees from my body with the power of a hundred birds taking flight.

“I’ve missed you,” he breathes, and it’s a harsh breath pushed from his lungs that fans over my face.

His words are filled with the same agony I’ve felt these last few months.

With the same desperate yearning, the same longing ache that’s settled into my bones, weighing me down.

With the same love that has kept me going, hoping, fighting to be the kind of person he deserves, and who deserves him in return.

My heart swells with that love, with pride, with adoration, with everything complicated and uncomplicated I’ve always felt for him.

“I love you,” I say, because it’s the only thing I want to say, need to say.

I love him, and I want him. Forever. If he’ll have me.

______

Jude

I love you, she says calmly, as if those words aren’t my undoing. As if my soul doesn’t shatter around those eight letters and reconstruct itself into a form within them, existing solely for her.

They’re my relief, assurance, and salvation all in one.

I had my doubts meeting her here. Of course I fucking did. We went from speaking to each other every day to not talking for nearly three months, and while that doesn’t seem long in theory, for me, it’s felt like a goddamn eternity. An eternity filled with endless doubt clouding my every thought.

What if there’s too much past trauma shared between the two of us and she decides she wants nothing to do with it?

What if she wants a fresh slate, with someone who hasn’t had to work tirelessly at ridding himself of his own demons as well?

What if she wants a calmer life—one with a partner who isn’t in the spotlight?

What if she needs stability? The kind I can’t guarantee when I could be traded to another team without warning?

What if she doesn’t want to uproot herself time and time again until I—hopefully—find a home on a team for the long haul?

These are only a small fraction of the countless thoughts that have continuously plagued me.