Page 56 of Simply Yours

The words were honest, raw, unguarded. But the drunken haze in his eyes told her he wouldn’t remember saying them in the morning.

“You’re drunk,” she said, forcing a small, shaky smile.

“I know what I’m saying.” He frowned, stubborn even in his stupor.

“Oh yeah?” she teased, tilting her head. “Sure you do.”

His jaw tightened, and he pushed himself up, sitting straighter in the car. “I do.” His words slurred slightly, but his intensity didn’t waver. “You think I don’t, but I know what I’m doing, what I’m saying, and I know it all—everything—because I’m a Baird, and that’s what we do.”

Caitlin fought the smile tugging at her lips. He was absolutely ridiculous like this—drunken bravado, chest puffed up like he was making some grand declaration.

“Sure,” she said indulgently, humoring him. “Let’s get out of the car.”

Jason wobbled slightly as they made their way toward the porch, his feet unsteady on the gravel. She slid her arm around his waist, half-guiding, half-supporting him as they climbed the steps.

“You know what life is?” Jason suddenly declared, wobbling beside her, his arm draped around her shoulder like she was the only thing keeping him upright.

Caitlin bit back a laugh. “Oh, do tell,” she encouraged, amused by this rare, philosophical side of him.

Jason lifted a finger, his expression serious, like he was about to deliver the most profound wisdom of their time. “Life is a series of dreams,” he proclaimed. “You make ‘em, you break ‘em, and you hope to catch a good long dream—long enough to finally be happy for a bit and then poof.”

Caitlin snorted, shaking her head. “What are you talking about, Jason?”

His gaze drifted, unfocused, as if watching something in the distance that only he could see. “I wanted to be a pilot, you know,” he murmured, his voice quieter now. “I got into the Air Force Academy with some of those Flyboys guys up the road. I knew a few of them, played football in high school against two or three of them, but it all went ‘poof’. My mama had just gotten diagnosed with cancer, so I delayed going to the Academy and delayed it again and again. Then she died.” His voice cracked on the last word.

Caitlin’s chest clenched.

Jason let out a slow, shuddering breath. “I coulda been one of them, you know? But I couldn’t… I couldn’t leave. My Dad begged me to stay, kept talking about duty, and it was so hard. Watching her get sick, keeping her secrets. All this talk of duty…”

“You’ve done an admirable dutyto your family,” she said softly, knowing full well those words would never be enough to mend the ache inside him. He had given up his dreams knowing the reason for it was going to slip through his fingers regardless. He was such a strong man, such a good person deep down, and it was humbling to see past the surface, that calm front he put up for everyone else out there.

Jason gave a bitter laugh. “My brothers and sisters get to chase their dreams, but not me—I have to hold it all together. Because of duty. I don’t know why they wanted to help with the farm when they could have left. It just didn’t make sense.”

Caitlin’s heart ached at the resentment in his voice, the years of sacrifice weighing on him like an anchor.

“Jason,” she whispered, “your family needed you. Many would admire that – and they want to support you because you mean the world to them.”

He swallowed hard, blinking against the burn of old memories. “It was just… a lot. To give up everything. My chances. My dreams. Knowing that doing it, staying here, meant I was going to be here to see her die.” His voice cracked, and he looked away, his hands fisting at his sides. “I hated that. Hated that moment. And it hurt because once time had passed… it was too late for any of us.”

Caitlin barely had time to react before he slumped onto the small sofa, pulling her down beside him. Without hesitation, he dropped his head into her lap again, his body curling into her as though seeking refuge.

She ran her fingers through his hair, slow and soothing, her own eyes burning with unshed tears.

Jason’s voice was barely a whisper. “I think that’s why I finally wanted to start talking to you… because I was afraid I was too late again.”

Her throat tightened.

“You should rest,” she murmured, the words gentle, coaxing.

Jason’s grip on her shirt tightened. “Don’t leave me, Catnip -please.”

She exhaled softly, shifting slightly so she could rest her head against the back of the couch, her fingers never stilling in his hair.

“I won’t,” she promised, her voice barely above a breath. “I’ll stay and hold you, just like this.”

And as the night stretched on, Caitlin closed her eyes, letting the weight of him settle against her, knowing deep down—she could never let him go.

Eleven

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