Page 37 of Reckless and Rooted
“You think? I mean, I loved you so much. I didn’t want to leave you behind. It just felt like we were heading for something so serious.” She sighs, placing a hand on her cheek. “My leaving really didn’t have anything to do with loving you. I broke my own heart when I did it.”
“Was there…” I pause, licking my lips and trying to think of a good way to phrase the question. The one question I’d been wondering about for years. “Was there something that I did that made you make the decision on your own?”
She shakes her head immediately, squeezing the hand she was still holding. “Not at all, Jax. Nothing. I swear, you were the best boyfriend in the world. You were my best friend. I just…I guess I just panicked.”
I nod, thinking that through. “It hurt,” I admit, knowing I need to get it off my chest if we stand any chance of coming out of this in a relationship. “You leaving—it hurt more than I ever thought it could.”
“I know. I’m so sorry. I was stupid. I was eighteen and inexperienced.”
“You’ve never been stupid. And obviously, it worked out for you.”
“And you,” she says, imploring me to agree probably. “You’ve made such a name for yourself.”
“Can I ask another question?”
“Of course,” she answers immediately.
“How come you didn’t answer my letters?” The question is out there, and I can’t pull it back in. I wait, watching as her eyes widen in confusion.
“What letters?”
I pause and think about writing those, about sitting in the back of someone’s trailer or truck, writing out little love letters filled with hope for reconciliation. “I sent you some letters.” Granted, I didn’t send a return address because I didn’t have one, but still.
“Jax.” She shakes her head. “I never got any letters. Where did you send them?”
“Your folks,” I answer, then shake my head. “I’m sure they tossed them by now.”
“Jax, oh my gosh.” She presses a hand to her forehead. “I feel horrible.”
“It’s not that big of a deal,” I say, shrugging off her concern. It’s not like anything I had to say then could change anything that happened.
I stare at her now, her brows bent in frustration, and smile at her, knowing that she’s thinking over every tiny detail, wondering if she somehow missed the fact that I sent letters. Her blonde hair is slipping out of her braid, and I marvel at how fucking beautiful she is.
I love that she still looks like my City Girl, that even though she’s spent years in the spotlight, dealing with assholes who watch her every move, she is still very much the girl I grew up with.
There were times I’d sit back and realize how lucky I was. Even when I was eighteen, I recognized it. When she left, there was a small part of me that wasn’t surprised, that just knew it was a matter of time before she did, and accepted the fact that she’d moved on to bigger and better things.
I have many regrets. One of them is not following her, anyway.
Because I know that if I’d shown up wherever she was and told her I wasn’t leaving until we talked, she wouldn’t have made me leave at all.
Lydia shows up then, smiling gently at the two of us. Other patrons have come in the door, only to see the Iron Horse group and leave, making Lydia sigh in frustration. I could see it from where I sat, watching my brother sit there without a care in the world while people shrank back in fear from just the sight of them.
“How was everything?” she asks, keeping a professional head and starting to clear away items. From where I sit, I can see the head of a chef in the back and no one else, just Lydia.
“Ugh, girl, these milkshakes are now a staple in my diet,” Felicity says, earning a grin from Lydia. “I’m definitely coming back.”
“Really? Aw, I’m so glad.” She looks between us. “I hope we have you both back soon.”
“Don’t worry. This was a regular thing for us back in the day,” I say, digging into my wallet for some cash. Felicity doesn’t argue or protest my buying dinner, and I feel ten feet tall because I was fully expecting her to fight me on it. But just like in high school, she smiles gratefully and winks at me when I hand over the hundred-dollar bill.
“Oh, thank you. I’ll go get your change,” Lydia says, the money in one hand and dishes in the other.
“Nah, keep it,” I say, eyeing the food. “It was well worth the money.”
“Wow. I…That’s so kind.” She flusters a little and bids us good night while I wait for Felicity to finish her milkshake.
“That was really nice,” Felicity comments before we stand to leave. She loudly says goodbye to my brother, forcing him toawkwardly wave back, and gives Lydia a hug she definitely does not expect, making her smile broadly as we leave.
