the sweet smells of cinnamon and maple syrup wafting from the kitchen into the master bedroom. She had slept well enough but still woke up with a lingering nag in the pit of her stomach, saddened by all the space around her that reminded her of why she was waking up alone.
Rhett had texted her late last night to let her know he was heading back to his apartment. There weren’t any flights scheduled to go out between one and five am, so he figured he might as well try to sleep. He promised to keep her updated today.
She looked toward the floor-to-ceiling windows and gazed out at the lake. The overcast, tumultuous sky matched her mood. It was somehow still raining. Jake had been right. Global warming was a bitch.
She rolled out of bed in search of a bra and sweatpants. Having guests at the cabin meant she couldn’t walk around her home barely dressed like she normally did when it was just her and Rhett. Plus, unless the boys had woken up earlier than expected, she figured Judy was responsible for the aromatic smells coming from the kitchen.
“Good morning,” she offered quietly as she made her way to the breakfast bar. The older woman with tightly permed curls and the kindest eyes turned around and smiled.
“Good morning, Miss Tori. You’re the first one up today. How did you sleep?”
“Good. Really good. Will I be in your way if I make my coffee?” She attempted to move around the bar toward the coffee machine.
“I’ve already got the coffee made and your mug ready for you, dear.”
Tori smiled affectionately as Judy slid the mug across the counter. Coffee with a splash of heavy cream—just how she liked it.
Rhett had insisted they hire someone to keep up with the cabin since they only visited a few times a month. Tori had been resistant to the idea at first—it was weird to hire someone to do the things she was capable of doing, especially since she had taken the year off school for her surgeries. But Rhett insisted it would take a lot of the burden of the cabin off his plate, so ultimately she obliged.
Judy was responsible for the care and keeping of the house. She shopped for groceries before they arrived, she scheduled regular maintenance and kept things running smoothly. She insisted on cooking for them when they visited, too, unless Rhett specifically asked her not to come because they wanted privacy. Even on those occasions, they would find the fridge and freezer stocked with easy-to-reheat meals.
“Morning,” Jake grunted as he entered the kitchen in nothing but his gray sweatpants, Fielding hot on his heels. Field at least had a shirt on, but that didn’t discourage Tori from raising her eyebrows at their attire before turning to gauge Judy’s response.
“Oh my,” the older woman muttered under her breath before scurrying over to the sink. Tori lowered her head and tried to hold in a tremor of laughter.
Jake moved easily through the kitchen, fixing coffee for both himself and Fielding and ignoring them all in the process. He used to be such a morning person, but his whole schedule got turned on its head when he stopped working opening shifts at Clinton’s and started working closing shifts as the manager of The Oak Barrel Tavern. Tori knew better than to engage him first before noon nowadays.
Fielding hopped onto the breakfast bar, his six-foot-three frame looking larger than life perched on the counter. He looked bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning, per usual. He tilted his head toward Judy in question. “You didn’t tell me we were expecting company this morning.”
“Judy, I know you’ve met Jake before, but this is our friend Fielding Haas. He’s going to be spending Christmas with us, too,” Tori explained as she made the introductions.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Haas.” Judy smiled warmly over her shoulder.
“The pleasure is all mine. But please. It’s Fielding. Or Field, if we’re going to be BFFs like I think we will. All my friends call me Field.” Tori swore she saw Judy blush before she turned her back to them. He continued, “So are you the one responsible for all the glorious smells in this kitchen this morning?”
Tori smirked, but she watched Judy closely to make sure she wasn’t put off or offended by Fielding’s teasing. When Judy turned back around, she had a sly smile on her face.
“You’re a real charmer, aren’t you, Mr. Haas?”
“I thought I asked you to call me Field,” he countered.
Tori held back a laugh. She knew Fielding would rein it in if she told him to, but Judy could obviously hold her own against his slick flirtations. They all were silent for a moment before he jumped off the bar and sprang into action.
“I’m starving. What can I do to help? Put me to work, Miss Judy.”
Jake sauntered over to her, two steaming-hot mugs in hand. He set them on the breakfast bar before bumping her shoulder with his bare, inked arm.
“Hey, baby,” he yawned. “Merry Christmas Eve Eve.”
She smiled at him sadly, frustrated by the reminder. It was just two days until Christmas. And Rhett still wasn’t there.
“Any updates?” Jake asked, taking a long swig of his coffee as he leaned against the breakfast bar.
“Nothing,” she lamented, picking up her phone to double check that she didn’t have any new messages.
“Yeah, last message I got was that he was going back to the apartment to sleep for a while. I’ll call him in a little bit to check in.”
They fell into a companionable silence as they sipped their coffee. Jake continued to lean against the breakfast bar, looking delectable with his tanned, inked arms, cut, tapered waist, and unreasonably revealing gray joggers. His hair was a rumpled mess, and his light hazel eyes were still squinty with sleep, but she could think of at least half a dozen people who would kill to be taking in the sight before her now. She had half a mind to take out her phone and snap a picture to send to Lia. Or Cory. Or both.
She assessed him up and down once more before asking the question that had just sprung to mind. “Who are you hanging out with these days?”
Jake took another drag of coffee, then raised his hand to the back of his head and side-eyed her. “You and Fielding.”
“You know what I mean,” she jeered, giving him a playful shove. “Who’s in your DMs?”
He blew out a long breath that gave her pause. Jake had always been obnoxiously vocal about his dating life. She couldn’t remember a time when she didn’t know who he was sleeping with, and she definitely had never had to ask for him to offer up the information. If anything, she was usually begging him to keep the details of his sordid affairs to himself. The man liked to fuck. A lot. And he liked to talk about fucking. A lot. Why was he being so standoffish?
“Embarrassingly? No one.” He shrugged and met her gaze, letting her see the honesty in his eyes. “Getting The Oak up and running has been all-consuming. For the first half of the year, I was at Clinton’s six days a week, holding down the fort while Mike was busy working next door. More often than not, I’d end up over at The Oak helping him after my shift. Now that we’re up and running, I work almost every night, and even though we close at midnight, I usually don’t get home ’til two a.m.”
She technically knew all that, but she hadn’t thought long enough about it to realize how it might be affecting his personal life. The guy really did need a vacation. “So you’re telling me the great Jake Whitely, master of the one-night stand, hasn’t gotten any in months?”
Jake pushed his tongue into his cheek, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. She wasn’t usually the one to rib on him—Fielding did enough of that for the two of them—but she couldn’t resist digging in now that he was actually opening up.
“Guess not,” he lamented. “Field sleeps over three or four nights a week. I might as well make the workout room his bedroom at this point. Then after your surgery this summer, with Rhett home and needing to get to and from meetings…”
He trailed off as the hollowness of realization blossomed inside her. Jake wasn’t turning a new leaf or settling down. He’d been so wrapped up in their lives—in her procedure and Rhett’s recovery—that he had neglected his personal life so he could take care of them.
Shit had hit the fan and splattered when Rhett crashed Jake’s car earlier that summer. The boys didn’t speak for almost a month: Rhett ashamed and remorseful, Jake seething and livid. The pain reached much deeper than the loss of Jake’s beloved BMW M3 from high school. It was the drinking. It was the lies. Jake had even tried to stage a mini intervention the weekend before the car accident.
It was her prophylactic hysterectomy that had finally forced them back together. Rhett had come home and stayed in Hampton for a month for her surgery and recovery. She hadn’t been able to cook or drive while she healed. But he had still been recovering from the injuries he sustained in the car crash, so he was limited in what he could do to get her to her follow-up appointments and take care of her.
Jake had been by their side every day, except or the few hours each morning when he drove Rhett to and from his AA meeting and when he had to go to work at night. He’d slept at Rhett’s house, traversing across the broken spot in the fence every morning and every night to make sure they had both taken their meds and eaten three meals each day. That month of being stuck at home and reliant on Jake for so much was healing for all of them.
“Jake,” she croaked softly, her voice ripe with emotion. He was too good to her. Too good to them. His friendship knew no bounds.
“Don’t give me that lip,” he countered as he reached over and pinched her pout between his fingers. He held her mouth together for another second as he narrowed his gaze. “I mean it.”
“I feel guilty. Your life was turned upside down this year because of our drama…”
“Baby. Seriously,” he scolded, giving her a pointed look. “You know I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Having a chance to show up big time for my friends meant more to me than you’ll ever know.”
She swallowed down a lump of emotion and nodded in understanding. Jake had always insisted he didn’t know how he’d repay her and Rhett for what they’d gone through—what they helped him through—in high school. Maybe everything they had endured together this year would finally feel like enough.
“Besides,” Jake added, his tone back to its usual playful cadence. “It was kind of nice to have a break from the chase. It was like taking a recovery day for my libido. Now I’m primed and ready to come back rowdier than ever.”
Tori closed her eyes and shook her head at his ridiculousness. She knew Jake wouldn’t let her flounder in her guilt. He was too good to her, truly.
“So what are your plans for today?” he asked through a yawn.
“I think I might bundle up and take Penny on a walk around the lake. I know it’s drizzly and gross outside, but I just feel a little wound up right now.”
She was worried about Rhett making it home for the holidays—they all were. She desperately wanted to be with him, and she was also concerned about how he would cope if he couldn’t get back in time for Christmas. Those stressors were apparent.
What she wasn’t saying was that she was also battling increasing anxiety about her next surgery. She’d be undergoing a risk-reducing sensation-preserving mastectomy with immediate implant reconstruction next week. Somehow this surgery felt more significant than her hysterectomy. Maybe it was because this one would result in visible outward changes to her body. Maybe because there was more to the recovery this time around—more follow-up appointments, more unknowns and possibilities for the final outcome.
The surgery would be performed by a dually-trained oncologist-reconstructive doctor, but there was no way to know for sure what her new boobs would look like or how much sensation she’d still feel until months after the surgery. The stress about what she was sacrificing without a clear picture of the final outcome festered in her mind.
She also had a residual uneasiness about being apart from Rhett when she was about to embark on the final phase of the elective surgeries that had dominated so much headspace for the last ten years. Most days, they managed their long-distance relationship just fine. But the prospect of another surgery was looming, and so was the bitter reminder of how things hadn’t gone as planned earlier that year.
Rhett hadn’t been there for her when she went through the egg retrieval procedure before her hysterectomy. Even after he swore they were in it together. Even when he promised her she wouldn’t have to go through it alone. Her heart had forgiven him, but her nervous system still got panicky from time to time. She needed him now—physically yearned for him—as she geared up to face her darkest demons with this final surgery.
“I’ll go on a walk with you, Tori,” Fielding chimed in as he walked across the kitchen to snatch up the coffee Jake had poured him.
She shook her head. “Thanks, Field, but I want to be by myself. I don’t have any of my paint supplies with me, so a long walk is the next best thing to try and calm my nerves.”
Fielding stuck out his lower lip like he was going to protest, but Jake punched him in the shoulder. A silent but seemingly heated argument passed between the two men before Jake shook his head once. Fielding scowled, then turned around and headed back to the stove to peer over Judy’s shoulder.
“Want me to go with you?” Jake muttered under his breath low enough so only she could hear. This man. She knew she could say yes, and he’d walk wordlessly beside her for miles, just letting her work out her thoughts and be in her own head.
“No, really, I’m good. I’ll take my phone,” she insisted before he could pull a Rhett and try to barrage her with safety reminders. She wanted to go down to the bench swing for a while. She wanted to stand in the spot where they’d said their marriage vows that summer. She just wanted to be alone so she could reflect on all the beautiful and hard of the last year.
Jake nodded and took another swig out of his Clinton’s mug. “I’ve gotta get Fourth Wheel around four pm, but I’ll come find you before I leave, okay?”
“You know she hates that nickname,” Tori reminded him.
“I know,” he chuckled.
“Tori, are we busting out the big guns today or tomorrow?” Fielding asked from across the kitchen. Judy had him on skillet duty now, so he barely glanced up as he focused on achieving French toast perfection. Jake shot her a questioning look.
“I promised him we’d use my mom’s antique cookie gun to make Spritz cookies,” she explained, rolling her eyes at the ridiculous pun.
Jake planted his elbows on the breakfast bar and hung his head in mock-shame. “Ya know, I never actually wanted a kid of my own, but I gotta admit it’s kind of fun having one around at Christmas.”