Page 20 of Where We Call Home

“I’ll see you Friday,” Rhodes said, his voice steady, confident—everything I wasn’t in that moment.

Trying to channel the calm, mysterious woman I always aspired to be, I ended the call without a proper goodbye, my thumb tapping the screen just a little too quickly. Tossing my phone onto the passenger seat, I let out a groan, covering my face with my hands. The last thirty minutes of my life replayed in my head like a cringeworthy montage.

After a moment, I reached for my phone again, determined to distract myself. The group chat was still sitting there, waiting. With a resigned sigh, I typed out a generic response that was polite yet detached.

Theo: Maybe next time.

Satisfied with my emotionally evasive response, I set the phone down again and leaned back, letting the quiet of the car settle around me. Alone with my thoughts, I let the emotions I’d been holding back swirl unchecked.

Six

Boone let me leave work early today. I wasn’t entirely honest about why, but a little white lie didn’t hurt anyone. I needed time to grab the groceries for dinner with Theo. If Boone knew, he’d run straight to Aspen and spill. I wasn’t ready for that.

For the first time in a while, my heart fluttered in a way that wasn’t tinged with dread. The sensation was warm, like butterflies shifting inside my chest. Usually, the only woman occupying my thoughts was Jess, and the spike in my heart rate then wasn’t pleasant, it was hammering anxiety. Tonight felt different, and I clung to the feeling.

As I wandered through the grocery aisles, I was laser-focused on making tonight special. Boxed pasta wouldn’t cut it. I was making everything from scratch.

The store's fluorescent lights buzzed faintly overhead, and the only sound was the hum of old-school country music. My basket was filled with flour, eggs, red pepper flakes, and tomatoes. Most of the other seasonings were already at home.

When I talked to Theo earlier, I was smiling like an idiot. Thank God she couldn’t see me. She might’ve hung up and never called again, and I wouldn’t have blamed her. Still, hearing her agree to dinner felt like a win.

Turning into the freezer aisle, I froze. A puff of teased black hair, unmistakable and too familiar, caught my eye. My chest tightened, the air around me suddenly feeling too thin.

Jess’s mom.

She wore her usual uniform: capris, a short-sleeved shirt, and that gravity-defying hairstyle. My palms dampened as old, unwelcome memories surged like a wave breaking over me, each one sharper than the last.

I clenched my jaw and squeezed my eyes shut.Ten, nine, eight...I counted backward, willing myself to stay calm, to stay grounded. The knot in my stomach only twisted tighter.

You don’t have to stay. You can leave.The thought was a lifeline, something solid to hold onto. I opened my eyes, scanning for an escape route.

Every nerve in my body screamed the same command:Get out. Now.

Spinning on my heels, I decided ice cream could wait. Instead, I veered into the baking aisle to grab double chocolate chunk cake mix. No ordinary store cake for Theo. Sure, it was box mix, but I knew my limits. I wasn’t much of a baker, and asking Aspen for help would only give her more ammunition to tease.

For me, this wasn’t just dinner, it was a shot at something new. Theo wasn’t just stunning; she was effortlessly cool in a way that made you want to lean in and stay a while.

Maybe I was chasing something familiar. Or maybe it was the timing—she’d come back to town just as I was beginning to feel whole again, like some kind of nudge I couldn’t ignore. Either way, this was a step I had to take, even if it scared me.

Eventually, I circled back to the freezer aisle, relieved to see Jess’s mom had vanished. My chest loosened, and I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. Grabbing the ice cream, I ran through my mental checklist.

At the last second, as I was heading to checkout, I spotted something. Without overthinking, I reached for it and tossed it into my basket. A small, impulsive gesture but one that felt just right.

To my surprise, Indie was working the register. This wasn’t my usual day to shop, but it was comforting to know at least she was my one constant. Her reaction to seeing me was as flat as usual, minimal talking, quick exchange of cash, a fake smile.

Bags in hand, I jogged to my truck to quickly drive home.

My little bungalow sat on several wooded acres. The dark gray paint and metal roof gave it charm, while the wraparound porch pulled it all together. Inside, it was too big for one guy—three bedrooms, two bathrooms, and a decent kitchen, however, the rent was a steal thanks to the sweet couple who owned it. I’m pretty sure they just felt bad for me.

This place was just a house. Every night, I came back to the same thing: lights off, darkness swallowing the space, and an eerie silence no one could explain. Being just a few years shy of thirty, I never thought I’d be here—starting over. Alone. Spending my nights tossing frozen pizzas in the oven, living like a bachelor.

Over the past year, I’ve had to be okay with being on my own. Therapy taught me that I needed to find peace within myself before I could truly be with someone else, and I did. I became content. I’d realize though, being content wasn’t enough anymore.

I wanted more. I wanted a family.

I could see it so clearly: little versions of me running around, their laughter filling this empty house. A partner who wasn’t just someone I loved but someone I could call my best friend.

Was that too much to ask?

---