Chapter One – Bailey
“Auntie B, are you really, really sure about this?” Phoebe asked from the backseat—for the third time in as many days.
Her tone, combined with the expression I spied from the rearview, told me loud and clear that this sassy seven-year-old was still highly skeptical of our current mission. With good reason, I had to admit. But it always struck me as funny how perceptive she was for her age, and she wasn’t letting this go.
“Totally sure.” I said brightly. It was the same response I’d given her the last two times she asked, and she hadn’t pushed me further. Hopefully she wouldn’t this time, either.
No such luck.
“Uh-huh. But … Uncle Jack doesn’t like surprises, right?”
I winked at her in the rearview. “He doesn’t love them. You’re right. But he loves us!”
Phoebe rolled her pretty brown eyes and spoke in her signature sing-songy voice. “Okay, but if he’s mad, I’m gonna tell him this was all your idea.”
Chuckling, I focused on the road again. She could tell my best friend—also the man I shared guardianship of this little girl with, so he wasn’t actually her uncle any more than I was her aunt—that this was my idea all she wanted, but that didn’t mean it was true. No, this move to Charlotte Oaks was my mother’s brilliant idea, and I’d been totally and completely opposed to it.
Okay, I guess not totally opposed. Apprehensive? Nervous? Shaking in my proverbial boots? That was more like it.
I’d gotten over being opposed a while ago, but … I still hadn’t pulled the trigger even though I knew I should. But, why?
It seemed so silly now that I had giddy excitement coursing through my veins. It felt like I’d consumed my triple-shot caramel macchiato via IV instead of the cute travel mug sitting in my cup holder.
The cute, cheesy travel mug Jackson had bought me like five years ago. On it, engraved in a delicate script that totally didn’t fit the vibe of the sentiment in the best way, were the words, Devil Doc. It was what the Marines we’d deployed with as Navy Combat Medics called us, and he’d gotten it for me after I’d done a pretty awesome job saving a Marine’s life in the field.
So, yeah. I was excited now that we were close to Jackson’s hometown, but when my mom basically forced me into making this move? I’d dug in my heels out of habit.
But who could blame me? The idea of finally taking Phoebe to live near Jackson was so complicated and messy and heartbreaking that I hadn’t even been able to stomach the thought until recently.
Before that, I existed in a world of denial, clutching to the belief that since things were fine, why rock the boat? In Syracuse, Phoebe had me, my parents, friends, and—most importantly to her—dance. She was a student at an amazing studio, and ballet was probably the most important thing in her little life.
Okay, let’s be real, ballet was Phoebe’s life. I probably wouldn’t have been able to get her to move to Charlotte Oaks if not for the fact that they had a ballet studio in the tiny town. She didn’t need to know there was a smaller (er, nonexistent) percentage that went on to attend Julliard and become primas when they grew up than the one she’d attended in New York.
But, hey. We’d re-evaluate her dance training when she wasn’t, I don’t know … seven? It was a little early to worry about these things, wasn’t it?
I swallowed down a lump of grief and shook my head. Not for the first time today, I wished more than anything that these questions weren’t mine to answer.
These parenting concerns were for Phoebe’s parents to mull over, and the fact that they weren’t here to do that was never far from my mind when going down rabbit holes like that.
Phoebe meant the absolute world to me—and to Jackson, who took his role as co-guardian very seriously—but we’d both trade anything for her parents to be alive again so they could do right by their daughter in a way that we often wondered if we were capable of.
What did we know about parenting? More now than we did three years ago, for sure, but otherwise? Nothing. If it weren’t for his amazing family and my parents, we’d have been totally up a creek when we got that call to step up.
“Is this it?” Phoebe asked, breaking me from my thoughts.
I blinked and looked around, spying a rustic yet charming sign that read Welcome to Charlotte Oaks just up ahead. “Looks like it. You excited?”
“Yes. And ugh, finally. I really have to pee. You probably shouldn’t have gotten me such a big slushie, you know.”
I glared at her in the mirror. “Seriously? You begged for the big one. You seemed pretty sure my ‘adulty’ reasons for wanting to go smaller didn’t apply to you.”
“I’m seven! What do I know?”
“Honestly, sometimes a scary amount. You’re a smart kid,” I said with a wink in the mirror.
Phoebe preened under the compliment. “That’s true. But next time, just tell me I don’t know everything.”
“Wait,” I said, reaching for my purse and fumbling through it, “lemme just get a paper and pen. I need that in writing and you gotta sign it in blood. You can spell ‘everything,’ right? I’m driving, so you have to write it all out.”
At this, she squinched up her nose. “No, I can’t. But I know you’re kidding right now, Auntie B.”
I reached for the steering wheel again and nodded sagely. “See? Smart girl.”
“Is Uncle Jack’s house close? How many more minutes?”
I flicked my gaze to the map on my dash. “Everything is close in Charlotte Oaks, Pheebs. We’ll be there in five.”
She clapped her hands, and I let her exuberance wash the rest of my worries away. In less than five minutes, we’d pull up in front of my best friend’s home and surprise him with something he’d been waiting a long time to hear. After three years of me raising Phoebe in New York while he’d been elsewhere, we’d finally get to do it together.
And that would mean seeing him every day like I used to, before our lives changed forever. We went from co-workers in the Navy to co-guardians of Phoebe, only seeing each other when he’d come up for his monthly visits—thanks to his brilliant use of credit cards that offer airline miles to pay his bills each month.
Another shot of probably caffeine-related giddiness swept through me at the prospect of returning to some semblance of normalcy and putting our long-distance friendship to rest.
It would still be just friendship, of course, for many reasons. But it wouldn’t be via phone, text, or FaceTime. It would be live and in 3D. And man, I’d missed seeing him daily. I couldn’t wait to tell him the news.
And just like that, I got the sensation that this stretch of road leading into Charlotte Oaks was more of a rollercoaster than flat ground. That bubbly sensation in my tummy evaporated because seeing Jackson every day would mean … well, seeing Jackson every day.
Being near him and trying to ignore the zing of sparks that ran through me with every smile or every touch—no matter how simple or friendly or unromantic.
Like that time we were at the park with four-year-old Phoebe, and a bird pooped on my shoulder. He’d acted fast, grabbing my arm and snagging a baby wipe from the side pocket of my backpack. Then he’d cleaned me up before spritzing enough hand sanitizer on the site to drown me.
And yet, the spot where he’d held my arm while he did all of that had tingled for the rest of the day, like I was branded.
Oh, and that laugh? Seeing him every day would mean hearing his infectious laugh with more clarity than I was used to. Hearing it through the phone or on FaceTime did a lot to mute the effect, but this would be … different.
And probably worse than all of that, being in close range again would mean smelling him. Yes, smelling him, because the man constantly smelled like he was fresh out of the shower, even when I knew for a fact he’d been hard at work all day, just like me.
How did he manage that? No idea. It was one of life’s great mysteries as far as I was concerned, but I didn’t care to solve it. Unfortunately, the thought of experiencing it every day again instead of one weekend per month had my palms growing sweaty as I turned onto his street.
Yep. No question, I had it bad for my best friend.
But he didn’t feel the same way, and even if he did, I wouldn’t deserve to be with him. I wouldn’t deserve to ride off into the sunset with the man of my dreams and our friends’ little girl like the happy little family I knew we’d be.
It was my fault Bryan and Marie James weren’t here to raise their daughter, and she was in our care instead. So, for that reason alone, I had to get a grip on what being around Jackson again would do to my senses.
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