I’m touching up on my British ways. It’s like putting on a familiar sweater and putting my hands in the pockets to find a favorite smooth stone from the beach.
It’s part of me.
Life in Holmes Chapel is quieter than I remembered, but I love it. I feel grounded in a way I haven’t since living here as a girl. I miss California…with everything in me. It still feels like home too, but I needed to step away and figure out who I really want to be.
I completed my year at the university nearby and it feels great to be done. I used my dad’s address to qualify for home student fees. Things with my dad haven’t changed overnight and still aren’t perfect, but he was happy to pretend I lived with him…only wishing I would make it legit. He’s different now. Humbled. Kinder. I’ve been getting to know him again, and day by day, I feel the bitterness slowly leaving my system. But no, I won’t be moving into his house. That would be taking it too far. I’m enjoying my freedom too much.
I work at a small salon in town and for the last three months I’ve been doing makeup for weddings. I miss having Liesl with me at every wedding, but it’s been good practice to do it on my own.
Winston and I live in a cute little first-floor, one-bedroom corner flat. It’s nothing fancy, and I don’t have much to fill it up, but I like the simplicity of only having the bare necessities. What I’m lacking in furniture, I’m making up for with plants. My first month after moving here, I was homesick and depressed over how dreary everything was in the winter, so I bought a plant, and it turns out I have a way with them. When Mum and Dave came to visit me in the spring, they were shocked and maybe somewhat worried. We FaceTime every other day and I think Mum is finally relaxing over the fact that her baby is across the globe.
I haven’t heard from Jaxson. At all.
The guilt eats away at me some days—that I left without saying goodbye, that I didn’t try to give us a fair chance—but most of the time, I attempt to put him out of my mind and just be. I didn’t know how much healing I needed to do until I had this time of quiet, but also time with my dad…it’s been eye-opening. A conversation during a lunch date with Dad a few days ago sort of knocked me over the head, and I’m beginning to realize why it’s been so important for me to be here.
“I talked to your mum the other day,” he said.
“I didn’t know you and Mum talk,” I looked at him, shocked.
“Since you’ve been here, we have,” he said. “And, uh, she wanted to know if I thought you were still running from your feelings for Jaxson. I told her you haven’t said a word about that boy. I didn’t know he was still in the picture.”
“I don’t want to talk about him with you, Dad.”
“Well, why not?” he demanded, his bushy eyebrows distracting me.
“I’m sure you’ll make me feel ridiculous for being upset over the things he’s done…and well, maybe I left before he could leave me. I’m always the one who gets left, you know? You left. Jaxson left. Tyra left. Jaxson left again. I don’t think my heart is up to being abandoned another time.”
Dad ran a hand over his beard and looked distraught. “Mirabelle…I’m sorry for what I’ve done to you and your mum. The hurt I’ve caused by not being a part of your life…I don’t deserve your love, I really don’t. But Jaxson…well, I don’t know what he’s done to you, but your mum seems to believe he’s a good person and that he’s in love with you.” He stopped and let that sink in, and when he seemed assured I’d heard him, he continued. “Don’t put my sins on his head. If that’s what you’ve been doing, you’re hurting yourself and him too…and you’re missing out on something lasting.”
I’ve been thinking about it for days. Shocked that it took my dad to help me see the truth. Wondering if I’ve been a fool.
I’m pretty sure I have been.
Two weeks pass and I feel like I’m coming down with something. I feel sluggish, no energy whatsoever. I can’t pinpoint any certain thing that feels terrible necessarily; I just don’t feel right. Dad keeps checking on me and says I have a case of the mopes.
“Or maybe it’s lovesickness?” He wiggles his eyebrows, but to my utter humiliation, I burst into tears.
He tries to get me to talk, but I can’t. It’s like the distance between Jaxson and me has suddenly caught up with my heart and my brain isn’t overriding it anymore. I miss him with a desolation and longing that feels like a starvation that is never fed. My entire body hurts with the missing.
Once Saturday hits, I shower and then get back into my pajamas, letting my hair air dry while Winston and I play fetch. Winston goes flying after the ball, picks it up with his teeth, and then drops it, growling at the door.
“What is it, boy? I didn’t hear anything…”
He runs to the sound, still growling, so I stumble over him to get to the peephole and open the door to show him that no one is there. But he sniffs something and when I lean down, I see a CD in a slim, clear case with no writing on it.
I poke my head out further but don’t see anyone.
“Creepy, but you were right. I’m glad we’ve got your ears,” I tell Winston, scratching his neck.
I grab my laptop—the only thing I have that will play a CD—and I pop it in.
I recognize the sound of the band immediately and when I hear Jaxson’s voice, my throat constricts. I put my face in my hands and weep when I hear the words.
We said we would do it all,
With a list and promises
We said time would not conquer us…
We’d always be the two of us,
Knowing and known,
And always home
To each other
We traveled far and wide
And sometimes pride got in the way
Even when I lost myself,
You gave me another chance
I wish I could go back again,
Tell the kid to man up then.
(I’d give anything to go back again)
It was there all the time,
A love so pure, and so alive,
Went to hell and still survived
5,331 Miles
I grab a sweater before the song has finished playing and rush out of my flat, Winston’s ears flapping as he runs next to me. I open the door to my building and Jaxson is there in the parking lot, leaning against a car.
He doesn’t smile when he sees me. He looks like a tragic figure, devastatingly handsome and stoic; he puts his hands in his pockets and watches me get closer and closer.
When I’ve almost reached him, the car next to him starts and I gasp. It’s my dad. He smirks and gives me a brisk wave before backing up, not waiting around to see what happens.
I stop when my feet bump into Jaxson’s. He reaches out and wipes a tear from my cheek.
“Jaxson.” It comes out as a sob, and I lean my head onto his chest.
His arms circle around me, making me instantly feel better. Home. One of his hands moves to my hair and he gives it a soft tug, forcing me to look up at him.
“I don’t care where we are. I just want to be where you are,” he says. “Do you believe me yet? And does it matter?”
Tears fall down both of my cheeks and his thumbs catch them. “It matters,” I tell him. “It means everything.”
“You say the word and I will move heaven and earth to be with you. Nothing will come between us.”
And this time, for maybe the first time since my tenth birthday, I believe him.
“I’m done running,” I say.
His mouth crashes into mine, claiming what I’ve held back from him for so long.
“Come inside,” I whisper against his lips.
We barely make it inside my flat before I’m climbing him like a tree. He lifts me the rest of the way, wrapping my legs around his waist and propping me against the back of the door, kissing me hard.
“I love you,” he whispers against my lips when we come up for air.
He moves down the hall and into my room, tossing me on the bed like I weigh nothing. I grin when he pulls my pajama pants down.
“Still feeling Christmas-y, huh?” he teases, throwing my reindeer pants behind his shoulder.
I tug on his shirt and lift it over his head. “Later, I will be embarrassed about how awful I looked when you saw me again for the first time in so long, but right now, let’s get naked.”
“You could never look awful, but I agree…we should get naked.” His teeth look stark white against his skin and he is out of his pants in seconds flat.
I reach up and pull his boxer briefs down, eyes widening at the sight of him.
He groans, leaning over me. “You’re making me crazy, looking at me like that. Let me see you.” He pulls my shirt over my head and pulls his lower lip between his teeth when he sees I’m not wearing a bra. “I can’t believe this is happening,” he says, leaning down to take my nipple between his teeth. “Definitely feels real…” He tugs it back, looking at me when he does and I arch into him. “Oh, I can’t wait,” he whispers.
He moves his fingers between my legs and works his way in and out of me, the sound of my excitement making me flush. I close my eyes and when he pulls his fingers out, just as I’m about to lose it, I moan. He drives into me, filling me with one long push, and I pulse around him, throwing my head back and crying out his name.
He looks beautiful and tormented, a fine sheen of sweat on his forehead, but he thrusts into me with a singular focus, starting an agonizing pace where he pulls out and then hits every nerve ending when he drags himself back in.
I can’t think straight. It feels like heaven. “Faster,” I cry.
He goes faster and faster, until I feel like I might pass out, it’s so good. Just when I think I can’t take another second of hanging over the edge, we both explode and the feeling eclipses all rational thought.
While he’s still inside of me, both of us still feeling the gentle waves of our connection, I realize that if I want it—this all-encompassing love for the rest of my life—all I have to do is take the leap and let the miles of hurt and bitterness and pain dissolve once and for all. This feeling of utter fullness, being filled up by him in every possible way, can be mine if I will only let him in.