KNOCK; I PROMISE THE DOOR'S STILL OPEN / JEREMY SWAYMAN
SUMMARY Going on vacation with her college friends isn't one of Scarlett's worst ideas. If anything, it might even be one of her better ones. Except...for the fact that her ex-boyfriend will be there, too.
WORD COUNT 15.9k
WARNINGS/TROPES exes-to-lovers + related angst, summer romance, bed sharing, side plots
AUTHOR'S NOTE This is a re-upload from my old blog (with some edits), so if this seems familiar, it probably is. Anyway, thought I'd bring back this summer fic in time for the changing seasons :)
Cape Elizabeth—with its rocky coastline, historic and staunch lighthouse, and winsome houses overlooking the deep, dark blues of the Atlantic Ocean—was one of Scarlett Davenport's favorite things about her state.
But what truly won her heart was the warm feeling in her chest that came with the laughter and music reminiscent of frat parties echoing from the backyard of one of her college friends' opulent houses. It was exciting—the prospect of being reunited, even for just a few days, with the group of people she once saw every day for the wildest four years of her life.
The setting sun penetrated past the whimsy, white curtains, pooling on the rug of the upstairs office as Scarlett scanned the bookshelves speckled with occasional framed photos of Daniel and Kaia's family, and a smile crept onto her thin lips.
Pushing the patio door open, the ocean breeze heckled into the room, carding through the flowy material of her floral dress. Strands of her unkempt ginger hair blew into her freckled face as she looked over the once-familiar scene.
Her hands sprawled across the wooden railing, taking her weight as she leaned forward.
Oh, how she loved summers in Maine, loved basking in the feel of her favorite time of year greeting her once more.
"Scar, chout!"
Her gaze darted from the myriad of colors splashing against the rippling waves below the horizon to the group of young adults in the neat backyard in time to spot the spinning football coming directly at her. She caught it with a grin and wound her arm back, launching the leather-bound football back into the air.
Nudges and curses were thrown as her friends raced to get it. A cheer ripped from her throat when Hadley encased the football between her calloused hands, pointing and winking at her.
Pushing her hips back and bracing her forearms on the white wooden railing, Scarlett's grin softened to a gentle curve as her friends continued their game, just as they used to do when the year slipped into spring—something like a treat for enduring the rough Maine winters.
Scarlett reached for her phone to capture the moment because she knew none of them could loiter here for the rest of the season, but she wished they could. She had always loved venturing to the Wilfred house when given the opportunity, though Daniel and Kaia's parents had always been generous about who got to stay in their coastline home, even when the snow ravaged the outside.
"Thought I'd find you here."
"Wonder why that is," Scarlett said without shifting her attention. She knew the other voice well, could discern it anywhere—the soothing, rounded mumble that still made her stomach flutter ever so slightly—and maybe, a few years ago, she would've swiveled around and thrown her arms around his shoulders with excitement oozing from every fiber in her body.
But that was a few years ago, and it hadn't been that for a while.
Scarlett peered over her freckled shoulder, meeting the once familiar hazel eyes of her ex-boyfriend, and, suddenly, it was like she was watching the years they'd spent together play out in front of her—from the very first moment they'd met to the last time they'd talked—the sound of out-of-tune church bells clanging in the back of her head.
Her lips were pinned up in a civil and wistful smile, a ghost of softness tainting the edges that truly gave her away.
"If it isn't the Jeremy Swayman," she tried to tease, voice chirpy and comforting like a mourning dove at dawn.
His head hung low as he huffed out a chuckle, his broad and sculpted shoulders jolting with it.
"Didn't think you'd make it," Scarlett continued, dragging her attention back to the horizon. "You know," she shrugged, "figured after you made a name for yourself in Boston, you were too focused on hockey for anything else."
Jeremy resisted the wince curling at his mouth. He deserved that jab—intentional or not.
He took wary steps toward the edge of the patio, breath shaky as he stopped beside her. The filled champagne flutes seemed too small in his large hands and, frankly, not that interesting to look at, but the heavy thrumming of his chest fought to keep his gaze locked. He'd battled, though, and he couldn't help but take in her features—the way she grew into her face a little more, the dense freckles sprinkled across her cheeks and nose, the rosy tint that was undeniably the beginnings of a painful sunburn that always crept up on her.
She still looked as gorgeous as ever.
Scarlett spared him a fleeting glance, frowning as if she was trying to figure out what was wrong with him. She'd never figure it out in the short millisecond she'd spared him, though, not the way she might've when they were still together.
Jeremy held out one of the flutes, and her gaze flickered to his offering hand. His lips thinned into a tense smile as she accepted the flute with a quiet thanks filling the space between them.
Moments steeped in silence passed. Unbearably.
"How's—" They both started and stopped, sharing an awkward laugh.
"You first," Jeremy urged, mirroring her posture.
Scarlett gulped. "How's Boston? You had quite the season, I hear."
A smile stretched across the lips she used to kiss; faintly, she could still recall the feeling of them pressed against her own.
"It's been fun," he said, soft and genuine. "It's been a lot of fun."
"Yeah?"
The corners of Jeremy's lips lifted ever so slightly. "Yeah."
Bittersweet, Scarlett felt a heaviness in her chest as she allowed herself to see him in his entirety. He looked happier, perhaps happier than she imagined he'd ever been toward the end of their relationship. Still, there was an underlying emotion lacing his tone—something she couldn't quite decipher.
After all, it'd been long enough that she had started losing her fluency in him.
But Scarlett wouldn't let herself dwell on trying to pick it apart. Instead, she favored the pride shimmering in her eyes at the success he'd found, even if it wasn't with her by his side as they'd talked about during numerous conversations that bled into the early mornings.
"That's good to hear," she murmured, sipping her bubbly champagne. She wasn't quite sure when they'd all settled for champagne and fruity IPAs when they'd not long ago been cramped into dilapidated houses guzzling down watered-down beers and bland seltzers, the kind of drinks she was used to seeing growing up a few counties over.
"I saw Luke and Annie got engaged."
Scarlett smiled. "Yeah, it was cute. He proposed in the gazebo by my parents' house. You remember that one?"
Jeremy nodded. He did remember. It was rustic, overgrown vines climbing up the wooden stilts and plush flower bushes in pots hanging from the trim. Some days, the twinkling string lights were still plugged in from the night before. The image was still crisp in his mind, reeking with nostalgia for the times he and Scarlett would venture into the park during their daily morning walks whenever he visited during breaks, because the town of Cutler, Maine, was much closer to their college town than Alaska or Arizona, where his dad had moved.
"Guess you're finally getting that sister you always wanted," he said, ignoring the way the words grated against his throat. Maybe if he hadn't been a fool, his sister could've been that to her before Annie.
"Yeah, I am." Her eyes crinkled with excitement. "Speaking of sisters...I saw Beth post about having a baby."
Adoration washed over Jeremy. Whether it was because his niece was mentioned or the fact Scarlett thought to mention his family with a fondness in her voice, he wasn't sure. Either way, warmth pooled in his chest like he was hugging the sun.
"She's the cutest thing in the world."
"I bet."
Silence crawled into the strange distance between them, their surroundings still flush with their friends laughing and shouting over the speakers blasting music and the squawking seagulls breezing over the ocean that lapped into the craggy shore.
If they ignored it, Scarlett and Jeremy could briefly deceive themselves into thinking they were back in the heydays of college in Orono.
The chugging habits still too ingrained in her muscles, Scarlett drank the rest of her champagne in one swig. "I was helping Annie's sister move out of her dorm a few weeks ago," she started, unable to bring herself to meet Jeremy's gaze. "Ended up bumping into Red's family. They seemed like they were doing better. Are you?"
A tremor weaved into Jeremy's breath as a dark cloud loomed over his head. "It's hard some days," he said. "Wish he was still around to celebrate some things with me."
Scarlett looked at him, and the tender sympathy glowing from the warmth of her brown eyes seemed to bulldoze through any sense of moving on he thought he'd done.
"He'd be proud of you, Jere," she assured; the addition of 'I know I am' rolled to the tip of her tongue, begging to feel the cozy Maine air, but she swung at the temptation with her wisened sword.
Jeremy smiled with downturned eyes. "I don't think I told you at the time, but I really appreciated when you called that day."
"Isn't that what friends are for?" Scarlett nearly cringed as the words tumbled past her lips, and she could see the subtle way his face screwed up when he heard them.
They had never been friends, even before they started dating. The moment they met, when he came knocking on the door to her tiny dorm room to borrow the first of many things, there seemed to be a burning electricity that foretold a destiny where their lifelines were forever intertwined in the stars.
An understanding that they would always be more.
So, friends seemed like a disgrace to what their history entailed—the philosophical ramblings, the unwavering support, the loving nights that rolled into the mornings, the embraces they'd lose themselves in, the lingering stares that never left room for doubt.
'Friends' was demeaning.
'Friends' was cold.
And though she wasn't sure if she'd call them friends now, it rolled off the tongue better than "That's what exes are for."
Better, but not quite right.
Maybe, by the end of their time at Cape Elizabeth, she'd find something more fitting.
"Yeah," said Jeremy, clipped. "That's what friends are for."
In typical fashion, the girls were far more ready than the guys, and as they waited, the expansive living room flourished with their hearty laughter and boisterous recollections, detailed beyond what any of them could gather through social media—the heartbreaks, the funny misfortunes, the wild last-minute adventures.
Their conversation far out-rivaled the noise of the guys goofing off upstairs that trickled past the balustrade.
"So," Cecilia smirked, a mischievous expression tangled on her face, "we saw you and Sway up on the patio yesterday."
Scarlett sensed the blood rushing to her cheeks before anyone could see it. She ignored how strange her hand felt as she waved off her friends with such casualness.
Nothing about Jeremy was casual to her.
"It was nothing," she forced out, taking a sip of her prosecco. She wasn't too inclined to let the conversation continue, not when she knew their voices could easily carry upstairs and into the nosy ears of their friends—or worse, into Jeremy's ears.
Kaia snorted. "Sure didn't look it."
"We were just catching up. We haven't spoken since..." Scarlett trailed off, a wave of sadness crashing into her heart, "Red died."
It wasn't as though Red Gendron was particularly influential in her own life, considering her career choice in insurance had put her distant enough from hockey, but her relationship with Jeremy had put her in close proximity with him enough times that she'd come to learn a life leasson or two from him, come to admire him all the same.
And he'd meant a lot to Jeremy, which automatically made him someone she cared for.
"You two on good terms then?" asked Maeve.
Scarlett shrugged nonchalantly, stretching her legs across the settee and crossing her ankles. "Yeah, I guess," she said, smoothing out her sundress. "Shouldn't make this trip awkward for any of us besides, well, us."
"That's not what I was implying."
"What were you implying?"
Maeve wiggled her thin eyebrows. "Any chance of a second shot?"
Scarlett sighed her friend's name out.
"I'm just saying." Maeve raised her hands in surrender. "You two were so in love. Thought you'd be the first out of all of us to get hitched."
"Maeve..." Cecilia said gently, noticing the muscles in Scarlett's jaw tick.
"But we didn't, and here we are." Scarlett pressed her lips into a wry smile.
As though her saving grace, the guys stumbled downstairs, their rambunctious chatter echoing louder and louder through the vast house.
"Look what the cat finally dragged in." A teasing gleam shone in Hadley's green eyes.
"Jesus, it's not even noon," Ethan commented. "Cool it with the drinks, maybe."
"Needed something to entertain ourselves with while waiting for your slow asses," Kaia punched out.
Daniel flashed his twin sister a sarcastic smile. "Love you, too."
Jeremy was mid-laugh when he noticed Scarlett's distant eyes peering in his general direction, her teeth gnawing on the edge of her fingernail. His footsteps thumped across the hardwood floors as he approached her, letting his bag hit the ground before settling on the edge of the beige settee. He braced one of his feet atop his knee as if he were about to adjust the straps of his Tevas; instead, his hand came around her wrist, gently pulling it away.
Scarlett drew her attention and watched as he "fixed" his shoe without any indication he'd touched her at all. But she caught his brief glance.
"You okay?" he asked, just loud enough for her to hear over the back-and-forths among their friends.
Her pink lips curved up slightly, almost affectionately, despite Maeve's sentiments replaying in her head—the would'ves and could'ves that plagued her dreams some days.
"Yeah," she said just as quietly.
Jeremy's hand flexed—an attempt at restraining himself from brushing the wild mess of wavy red hair out of her face, from giving her a friendly nudge of acknowledgment, from reminding himself what it was like to have the feel of her under his fingertips in any capacity.
This was hard.
It was hard being around her, pretending like they were simply friends when he knew her so intimately, knew what she did when no one else was around, knew what she truly aspired to be, knew the way her soft and supple flesh felt beneath his calloused and worn hands, knew what she tasted like.
And he had no one to blame for being deprived of such privilege but himself.
Jeremy rushed to his feet with his things slung over his shoulder.
Scarlett inhaled deeply and looked away like clarity had blown away the mystical fog she'd gotten lost in.
They made it to the boat launch and loaded the boat with their fishing rods and coolers of drinks and snacks. As they sped over the buoyant and lively waves, the ocean air coated their skin in a light mist of brine, tousling their already errant hair.
It was magnificent in every meaning of the word—stubbornly beautiful, reflecting the scalding rays of light that kissed them like two lovers reuniting, splashes of water refreshing like they'd been wandering through a desert for all of time.
Scarlett could only sigh as she folded her arms over the burning metal railing of the sailboat, cheeks smushed against her forearms. She savored the summer sun cradling her body, knowing she would come to miss it when the seasons rolled into one another.
Cecilia handed her berry seltzer to Jake before carefully making her way to the gunwale, her core muscles straining to keep her balanced. She sat before Scarlett, gently nudging her shoulder. "Did you put sunscreen on?"
Scarlett nodded.
"Good, you baby lobster." Cecilia smiled softly before curiously tilting her head, dark strands of hair draping over the curves of her face. She tucked them behind her ears, laden with silver jewelry glinting under the golden rays. "Was Maeve being pushy?"
"No," said Scarlett, her voice quiet against the roaring wind. "I knew it'd come up eventually." She sucked in a breath, sitting up straight. "I just thought I'd moved on, you know? It's been years, and he made it pretty clear when he dumped me that we were over for good. But being here, seeing him again...I don't know."
Cecilia cringed as the memory of the dreaded day wormed its way into the front of her brain—the way Scarlett had gone over to the house Jeremy shared with his teammates under the assumption she was helping him pack up to leave for Providence, a sad yet excited smile on her face, only to return running through the door with black streaks marring her cheeks, a jumbled mess piecing together what happened that slapped everyone in the face.
"Does he know?" she asked.
A questioning hum rippled from Scarlett's throat.
"Does Sway know you might move to Boston?"
"I don't even know if I'm moving, Cee. Dinah's giving me until the end of this trip to think it over."
Cecilia's gaze drifted to Jeremy over her shoulder. "Is he your deciding factor?"
Scarlett let herself look at him. The breeze caught on the material of his t-shirt that hugged his figure nicely, and the sun shimmered against his scruffy face as he laughed at something Ethan and Maeve said. She didn't think he could get more winsome over the years, but she was proven wrong. Just as she'd been proven wrong in thinking they would make it out of college.
"Hard tellin' not knowin'," she finally said. "How's that guy from work?"
A soft blush streaked across the apples of Cecilia's cheeks. "It's...good. We're going on a date next week."
Scarlett beamed. "You have to tell me how it goes!"
"C'mon, you know I tell you everything."
They anchored the boat a few minutes later, tranquil waves purling against the sleek exterior. The lack of wind whipping against their sun-kissed ears allowed the music blaring from the portable speaker to bloom into the air. They were certain some of the occupants in surrounding boats had given them dirty looks for it.
Scarlett made for one of the fishing rods. The object felt like an old calling to home, a flashback to the days she spent sitting by the coast with her father and brother, sparkly Barbie fishing pole in hand, as they let time pass by them like an old friend. But it felt strange just the same—too long since she'd let herself visit the joys of childhood amidst the frenzy of adulthood.
Cecilia followed after her, letting their long-winded chatter continue as Scarlett launched the baited hook into the water with a little less fluidity than she'd expected.
"You sure you grew up in a fishing town?" Cecilia snorted, crossing her lanky arms across her chest, naturally tan skin splotched with milky-white patches. "Think city girl Hadley is doing a better job."
"Well, city girl Hadley is also in a long-term relationship with country girl Kaylee."
The sound of Cecilia's chuckle died at the tip of her tongue when Jake sidled up to them, his hand splayed comfortably across the base of her spine as he passed her seltzer back.
Scarlett's eyes shot down to his hand, then back up to Cecilia, who shrugged Jake's arm away.
He whispered something into Cecilia's ear, lips pinned up in a smirk that never meant any good. Her gaze subtly drifted over Scarlett's shoulder before retreating, and Jake yelped when he was met with a smack to his soft stomach.
"Ow, woman!"
"Grow up!" Cecilia snapped.
Jake grumbled as he walked away.
Amusement scintillated in Scarlett's eyes. "Definitely missed that."
"I don't." Cecilia sipped on her drink, her face twisting when warm liquid met her lips, no longer crisp under the blazing sun. "Of all companies, we ended up at the same one."
"So what was that about?"
Cecilia waved her off. "Some girl at work he's seeing." She took another gulp of her seltzer. "I'm getting a new drink. This one's gross."
Scarlett shook her head with a smile as she was left to her own accord. She reeled in her fishing line, eyeing the minnow still attached to the silver hook. Her fingers crooked the line as she unlatched the bail, the tip of the rod whipping through the air before the bait plopped into the oscillating waves, much better than her first attempt.
"First cast was rough," came Jeremy's voice as he infiltrated the space once occupied by Cecilia, seamlessly flinging his lure over the edge of the boat.
"You just had to see it," she tossed back. "Here to steal my bunch?"
"With the way you were casting that rod, I'm sure I'll have plenty to go after," he quipped, sparing her a cursory glance out of the corner of his eyes.
"I'm a little rusty. Bite me."
"Already have."
It took a second before either of them had registered the words, and while Scarlett's cheeks had burned crimson, Jeremy wanted nothing more than to dig himself a deeper hole and hide there. The brief, lighthearted nature of their conversation had made it so easy for him to slip back into the way things were with her that it almost seemed like he'd forgotten they were even apart at all.
It made him forget that their relationship was still so fractured that those jokes seemed out of place, not even a temporary bandage to mask the true state of things. If anything, they only seemed to worsen it, rub sea salt to the wound in Scarlett's mind at the thought that he could act so casually toward her as if he hadn't taken a sledgehammer to her heart.
"Forget—"
"Already forgotten," she said, keeping her attention on the scene ahead of them. "Think I'll focus more on the fish bitin' than you—biting—" Her face scrunched up. "I'm gonna shut up now."
Jeremy choked on a laugh, finally capturing her attention. Scarlett's expression softened like molten chocolate, sweet and all too reminiscent of times past, as a gentle smile curled at her thin, pillowy lips. The sound of his laughter fluttered through her body, pooling in her stomach like the bubbly champagne they'd shared the other night.
"Fuck, we suck at this," he said.
Scarlett pressed her lips into a thin line as she returned her gaze to the lapping waves, observing their bobbers staying afloat against the current, inching closer and closer until she was almost certain the hooks would catch on one another.
"Yeah, we do," she agreed, reeling in her line ever so slightly.
Jeremy's deft fingers paled around the handle of his fishing rod. The words came out slow like molasses, perhaps even a little hesitant, but there was no sense of insincerity. "I don't want you to shut up. Not around me."
Scarlett snuck a glance, accidentally meeting his stare that knocked down the bricks around her heart bit by bit, keeping her entranced by the warmth swirling in his eyes. Her breath caught in the back of her throat, her heart hammering against her ribs in an all-too-familiar way, almost like she was back in college.
"Been that long that you've forgotten how much I talked around you?" she asked.
"Never minded it," he said earnestly. Scarlett had always been the quiet one, the one who kept to herself in large groups, and it seemed like not much had changed since he last saw her. It always felt like a reward that he'd gotten her to fall into never-ending rambles that no one else, except perhaps Cecilia, got to hear—a coveted pearl he delicately held between his worn fingers.
Silence crawled into the distance between them.
A hard tug nearly yanked Scarlett's fishing rod out of her hands, and she immediately went to reel in whatever had latched onto the hook. The muscles in her arms strained as she battled arduously against the force of whatever fish was resisting her attempts.
"C'mon, Scar," Jeremy mumbled in encouragement, as though he was scared to break her focus.
"Oh, fuck this," she yielded. "Jere, I need help."
He wasted no time abandoning his station. His arms wound around her frame to grasp her fishing rod, and his hands clasped over hers as he helped reel her line in.
The familiar greenish and smoky gray hue of the Atlantic pollock shimmered as it flung around in the air, spraying droplets of refreshing water onto them.
Jeremy unhooked the pollock—a creature that looked tiny in his hands yet was skittish and mighty when caught—and laughed when Scarlett slumped against his chest. His sturdy frame kept her upright as her head dropped onto his shoulder with a heavy sigh, her muscles crying in relief.
"I hate pollock," she mumbled. "So much."
"How can you hate this little guy?" Jeremy teased. He glanced down at her briefly when she scoffed, a fond gleam passing through his eyes before he forced himself to focus on the fish, cradling it gently in his hands and lifting it to her face. "Kiss it."
Scarlett shook her head, tucking her chin into her neck. "No, I'm not kissing it."
Shrugging, Jeremy craned his neck over her shoulder, planting a light kiss on the pale lateral line stretching across the pollock's dark sides, and Scarlett grew painfully aware that she was still locked in his grasp, his buff arms a comforting blanket around her wide shoulders.
Jeremy unlatched himself from her to crouch by the gunwale, and Scarlett looked at Cecilia, who could only tilt her head with amusement. He gently released the pollock back into the open water. "There you go, buddy."
Scarlett bent down to grab the fishing rod Jeremy had ditched amid her panic. Her cheeks rounded with her sheepish smile when he twisted his torso to look at her with squinted eyes, his face scrunched up to block the glaring sun.
She blamed the breeze for stealing her breath.
"Thank you," she said, offering his fishing rod.
Jeremy rose to his feet and took his place beside her. "Any time, ba—Scar."
A poetry of stars sprinkled the midnight black sky—a softness that called body and brain to rest as the wind whistled against the sturdy house, drowning the noise of restless snores and crashing ocean waves down the ragged shoreline.
Much less muffled came the quiet footsteps from down the hallway, a soft rhythm over the beige rug rolled across the floor.
Jeremy wiped his clammy hands on his shorts, sucking in a deep breath before knocking on the white wooden door. A big part of him hoped he wasn't painting himself a fool, face white and a giant red squeaky sphere for a nose.
But the door creaked open, and his gaze fell to the redhead standing before him, rubbing away the sleep from her somnolent eyes. Her yawn and rousing shake of her head had his heart skipping a beat.
Scarlett lifted her chin, and for a moment, she could see a version of their younger selves and the countless times they had stood before each other by the doorway in the dead of night as Cecilia slept peacefully in her lofted bed in their dorm room.
Briefly, she could illusion herself into thinking nothing had changed, but the scruffier face and sinewy build that came with time and age had dismantled that picture fairly quickly.
"Wasn't aware we were still in college," she rasped out.
Jeremy huffed out a laugh, nervously stuffing his hands in his pockets—an action that accentuated the broadness of his sculpted shoulders. He noticed the way her gaze flickered down, and something about that washed a wave of confidence through him.
"So, what d'ya need now? A box of tissues? Scissors? The mirror?" Scarlett teased quietly, acutely aware that Cecilia had already dozed off on the queen-sized bed they were sharing.
"How about a walk?"
A half-smile tugged at her lips. The offer had been so simple in nature, and despite her aching desire to keep things as they were—to keep their relationship in the past the way he seemed to do so easily when he broke up with her—there was something so undeniable about the way she felt with him.
It was a simplicity that silenced her confused mind. A basin of sunlight that warmed the heart that'd frosted him out, a tickling to her stomach that made her giddy. It was an easiness that had her agreeing without a second thought.
"Give me a sec." Scarlett disappeared into the darkness shrouding the room and returned with a light blue University of Maine crewneck draped over her body, its hem falling past her lounge shorts.
Jeremy couldn't help the affectionate smile stretching across his face. "Ready?"
Scarlett hummed, carefully shutting the door behind her.
Sneaking out of the house almost felt juvenile, but the thought faded when the chilly summer air caressed their skin.
"Where are we going?" she finally decided to ask, tucking the deviant strands of hair that'd fallen out of her makeshift updo behind her ears. She mentally cursed herself for wearing shorts when she felt the grazing of mosquito legs on her.
Jeremy shrugged. "Wherever the wind takes us."
A gust of air blew past.
Scarlett pulled her sleeves over her palms before jutting her thumbs over her shoulder. "Pretty sure the wind's taking us in the opposite direction."
Jeremy's chest rumbled with a deep laugh, and the sound drew a smile from her. His hand gestured to the asphalt road ahead of them. "Wherever this road takes us, then."
"That sounds perfect."
As they strolled down the road, passing a mix of full and empty driveways, bathed under the buttery glow of sparse street lights, their ears honing in on the bristling leaves and crickets chirping, Jeremy and Scarlett lost themselves in a conversation that gradually dug deeper, rolling from one topic to another seamlessly, without effort.
For the most part, it always felt easy with each other, like two threads of yarn weaved together snugly, forever meant to cling to one another—preciously, stubbornly.
Maybe that was what left Scarlett so blindsided when he called it quits, when he put a thick and prickly barricade between them overnight and ran off to Providence. A part of her hated how she could still convince herself to climb over it, especially when she could see the barbs slowly retreating as their time at the Winfred house drew out.
They eventually settled at a cove that barely overlooked the Portland Lighthouse from a distance—catching only the blinding beam of light that shot onto the midnight waves, seemingly much gentler at night without the need to shout over the prying ears of tourists flocking to the shoreline.
Their conversation ebbed, and Scarlett pulled her knees to her chest, hugging herself tightly to keep her body from radiating all its heat into the night. A calmness quelled in her soul as she watched the familiar landscape before her, and she knew a part of her would always remain on the eastern coast—in the rolling green hills and stalwart seasons, in every form of love she'd been shrouded in all her life.
Scarlett could feel Jeremy's stolen glances, sneaky like he didn't want to get caught. Sneaky like he'd thought he'd been when they sat next to each other in the business classes they would try to take together.
"Why'd you ask me to go on a walk with you?"
Jeremy dug his thumb into the back of his hand, trying to soothe the nervousness away. "Been thinking about us again. The random adventures we used to go on." His heart hammered against his ribs, and his throat seemed to close as if to stop any more words from leaving it. "I miss us."
Scarlett felt everything crumble again.
It wasn't fair.
It wasn't fair that he was telling her this when he was the one who'd broken up with her because he "needed to focus on hockey," as though she hadn't told him she'd move to wherever his career took him once she graduated, as though they hadn't spent countless dates making lifelong promises he'd only meant to break.
But she couldn't find herself stewing in anger. Not anymore.
Jeremy had gotten what he'd wanted out of the breakup—a career as a starting goalie on an NHL team.
She was merely at a loss, exacerbated by the hole he'd left in her heart that had been so full of him that she was certain it was his more than hers.
Pressure built behind Scarlett's eyes, and she blinked away the tears that'd begun to cling to her lashes. "I miss those days, too," she admitted softly. "But there hasn't been an us in a while, Jere."
"I know," he murmured with a sigh that carried every ounce of penitence. "Not sure what I was thinking back then."
Scarlett gnawed on her bottom lip. "You were an idiot."
Jeremy forced out a self-deprecating laugh. "I think I deserve a meaner word, maybe even a curse in there, but yeah, I was."
"I'm glad we can agree on that."
A smile tried to creep onto his lips, but when he noticed the glassiness in her eyes, his chest ached, and he couldn't stop himself from slotting his hand against the side of her face, the rough pad of his thumb brushing beneath her lashline to wipe away the lone tear trickling down her cheek.
Scarlett allowed herself to lean into his touch for a moment, despite the curses her conscience threw at her. She wanted so badly to shun the part of her that craved falling back into his arms, the part of her that knew what it was like to be loved by him. She wanted so badly to stay firm in her decision to keep things platonic for the sake of their friend group because she knew if given a chance, her yearning heart would stomp on her critical mind.
And it was so painfully clear that she hadn't gotten over him.
But she wouldn't let herself forget the way he'd left her, and her mind would remain steadfast in that reminder.
Still, when he moved his hand away, a warmth seared into her skin, burned a hole straight through that conviction until nearly all was crumbled into pieces meant for them to rebuild.
Together.
"Can I ask you something?"
Jeremy nodded.
Scarlett kept her gaze locked on the purling water. "How long did you know you wanted to break up with me? Because, to me, it felt like it came out of nowhere."
"I never wanted to break up with you," he said. "I felt like I needed to."
"That makes it sound worse."
"People were telling me to go into the league with a clean slate so I wouldn't get distracted."
Scarlett winced at the tender wound reopening in her heart. "I was a distraction?"
Jeremy dug his thumb a little deeper into the back of his hand. "There hasn't been a moment since I met you where you didn't take up every thought in my head."
"And you got the stats that allowed you to get to where you are now anyway," she pointed out. "I just don't understand, Jere."
Jeremy paused and let the words hang between them, thick and heavy like a stream of tar. "I'm sorry," he said. "I wanted to do everything I could to ensure I'd make it, but I shouldn't have listened to them. I needed your support more than I needed a clean slate."
Scarlett hugged her knees tighter, trying to seek comfort in herself. All those years, she'd wondered where it went wrong, what she did for him to slam a pointed-edge mallet into her soft heart until it was bruised beyond recognition.
And all that pondering had led her to conclude that she simply wasn't enough—wasn't smart enough to finish her degree a year early and join him in Providence, wasn't loving enough like maybe some other girlfriends might be, wasn't pretty or thin enough like those Instagram models some of his friends followed, wasn't supportive enough like the wives and girlfriends of the athletes in the Show.
His words didn't seem to alleviate the old insecurities knocking on the door of the forefront of her mind, though. Maybe there'd been some truth to it if a few people whispering in his ear had led him to think it was a good idea to toss an almost three-year-long relationship down the drain like it meant nothing to him when it was everything to her.
Maybe if she'd been enough, he wouldn't have thought twice about it.
But she could feel the same wound in her heart being stitched together again at the knowledge that it wasn't her fault. Even if she hadn't been enough, it had been the words of others that had wormed into his head, not something she had done.
She could live with that.
"So, the answer to my question," she said, failing miserably to hide the waver in her timbre.
"A few days," he admitted.
Scarlett clamped her lips together, nodding to herself. A few days. If she'd known what he was thinking, that time could've been spent trying to talk him out of it, but, almost devastatingly, she knew him: When he had his mind set on something, there was no changing it. Ambitious as a hungry wolf, he was.
"I wish I didn't break up with you," he said. "I really do. You were the best thing in my life."
"I really wish you didn't either," she whispered into the briny air.
"I'm so sorry, Scar."
She willed herself to look at him and offered a weak, almost pathetic smile, reassuring in the only way she could conjure. "Glad we finally got that out of the way."
Jeremy forced his lips up despite how egregious it felt. He shouldn't be smiling in the face of heartbreak written all over her face—a result of his own work—but he couldn't help the way her soul gently reached out and held his face, pushing the corners of his mouth upward.
The silence that bloomed between them spoke of goodwill, of lowered defenses, of a new page in their books, and Scarlett let herself rest her head on his shoulder as time slipped away. They watched the dark, billowing clouds clump together, foretelling a storm they hoped would skip them so they could cherish the brisk Maine summer air for a little longer before it would hibernate for the rest of the year.
A yawn crawled out of her throat.
"Tired?" asked Jeremy.
Scarlett nodded. "Can we head back?"
Jeremy pushed himself to his feet before extending his hands out for her. It felt natural as her hands slipped into his, their chests colliding together from the sheer force of his strength.
The dark stole the red tinge on her cheeks as she mumbled an apology, stepping back to distance herself from his space.
Sleep weighed down their feet as they walked back to the Wilfred house, and the feat dragged on longer than they'd expected, but once they passed through the front door, they sighed with gentle reprieve that they no longer had to battle against the worsening shrieks of the wind.
Jeremy followed Scarlett up the stairs, stopping in front of her room. His fingers gently curled around the bend of her elbow. "Wait, Scar, I don't know how many times I can say I'm sorry about the way things ended between us, but I really do want you to know that I mean it."
Scarlett lifted her gaze from where his hand grasped her with the slightest of smiles. "I know. It's okay, Jere. I promise."
Silence flowered between them for a moment, yet they were painfully aware of each other's presence—a cacophonous ringing that sang an all-too-familiar hymn of stolen glances, hands grazing, and hearts beating in synchrony.
The night, the ever-present thief, had robbed the air in their lungs, and Scarlett gulped as her eyes lowered to his lips—so sweet, so enticing like a siren's song. Everything in her was telling her to give in, to indulge in the most sinful, selfish desire of tasting him against her lips one more time, to once again know the flavor of a man who was no longer hers—
Her mind seized the controls again.
He wasn't hers anymore.
She had to move on.
She had to put aside the relationship that had never made it past the long-concluded chapter in her life.
Scarlett blinked away whatever trance she'd fallen under and cleared her throat. "G'night, Jere."
His lips pressed thinly as he watched her make for the doorknob again, only for her movements to falter. His eyebrows pulled together when she carefully put her ear against the bedroom door.
"What?" he asked when her eyes popped out of their sockets.
"Oh, my God," she mumbled as shrill moans reverberated through the door, barely veiling the sounds of a headboard faintly smacking against the wall—a series of calculated motions that called upon the night to steal their secret rendezvous away from well-meaning sleuths.
Scarlett stepped away from the door, effectively crashing into Jeremy's firm chest. His arm scooped around her waist before she could tumble over her feet, and he observed her widened eyes and twisted mouth.
Jeremy slipped past her, hands still securely attached to her wide hips, his ear grazing the sleek wooden material of the door. Then he heard it—the undeniable sound of Jake groaning out Cecilia's name.
And suddenly, it all made sense.
The guy Cecilia was seeing at work. The girl Jake was seeing at work. They were seeing each other.
"Did you know?" Jeremy and Scarlett asked at the same time.
Scarlett clamped her hand over her mouth after a giggle nearly escaped, her big eyes crinkling with amusement. "That's a resounding no, then."
Jeremy shook his head in disbelief. "Well, unless you want to sleep on the couch, there's some space in my room now that Jake's not there. I could take his bed, and you could take mine if you want."
Scarlett's expression softened. "You don't mind?"
"No, not at all." His smile spoke of reassurance. "Honestly, it's the least I can do after the number of times I've taken refuge at your and Cecilia's dorm."
A reminiscent laugh made it past Scarlett's lips. "Also, at the hands of Jake. Man, that guy gets around."
Jeremy nodded his head in the direction of his room. "C'mon, let's go to sleep."
Scarlett quietly followed him into the room he shared with Jake, ignoring the mess strewn across the floor; her and Cecilia's room was far messier, with one too many potential and discarded outfits scattered around like a tornado had whipped around the interior and hurled fabric over everything.
"Which one's yours?" she asked, eyes flickering between the two twin beds occupying the room.
Jeremy jutted his chin toward the one closest to the door. "Need me to grab you some water?"
Scarlett blushed and nodded. It was a small detail—her need to have water beside her for when she inevitably woke up parched like she'd swallowed sand—that it surprised her to know he still remembered.
"I'll be back."
Once he stepped out of the room, Scarlett felt like she could breathe again. She slipped out of her sweater before climbing into bed, Jeremy's scent wrapping around her like a pair of arms welcoming her home—a woodsy musk that transported her back to their days in Orono.
Jeremy returned with a glass of ice-cold water, placing it on the marble coaster on the wooden bedside table. His lips curved up softly when she thanked him, her voice laced with a tired, breathy rasp.
He slipped into Jake's bed and stared at the plain white ceiling, eyes tracing the decorated trim lining it. His fingers thrummed against the sheets draped over the hardened muscles of his torso, and he snuck a glance at the neighboring bed: The dim moonlight seeped through the floor-to-ceiling windows and cast a soft glow on Scarlett's back, pooled above her head like a halo.
The first rumbling of thunder drew his attention outside. He caught a weak flicker of lightning, then turned to Scarlett, whispering her name into the defeaningly silent room.
"Are you awake?" he asked quietly.
Scarlett rolled onto her other side, the sheets tangling around her. Her fingers gripped onto the edge of her pillow like it was a lifeline. "Yeah."
"Are you still scared of storms?"
A shaky breath fell from her lips. "Yeah."
Jeremy clamped his bottom lip between his teeth. He didn't think this far ahead because he didn't think she'd been awake in the first place, with the way her breaths slipped out so steadily, so calmly, like she'd been lying under the sun in an oasis without a worry in the world.
He could still recall the countless stormy nights he'd spent by her side, shielding her from the childish fear she was embarrassed to admit in the safety of his arms until she eventually succumbed to her exhaustion.
But those days were long gone, and he wasn't quite sure how to help her now.
"Jere?"
He hummed in acknowledgment.
Scarlett swallowed the lump in her throat. "Could you come here?"
Jeremy paused for a moment before tossing the comforter off his body and throwing his feet over the edge of the mattress to cross the narrow space between their beds. He waited to see what she would do, watched her shuffle back, creating space meant for him to occupy.
His apprehension was loud—a heaviness that made his movements stiff and unsure, nothing like the man Scarlett was used to, so she patted the spot beside her. His presence enveloped her like a breath of fresh air as he climbed into bed, their bodies far too big for the tiny twin bed to leave any room between them.
And despite the fluttery feeling in her stomach that had her heart and mind racing, Scarlett felt relief wash over her at the fact that he was next to her, that she wasn't alone.
"You're hogging everything," she said.
"It's a twin bed. There isn't much space to begin with."
"We did it in college."
"I was also scrawnier."
"Were you?" Scarlett raised an eyebrow. "Maybe a little more defined, but you seem just as...thick."
"Thick?" Jeremy mirrored her expression.
"I didn't know what other word to use!"
Jeremy let out a laugh, and a slow smile pulled across Scarlett's face.
For a moment, she had forgotten why he was next to her in the first place, but the small stretch of peaceful silence left enough time for the crack of thunder to ring alarms in her head.
"C'mere," Jeremy said softly when her shoulders flinched. Carefully, he looped his arm around her, pulling her against his chiseled chest.
Scarlett unconsciously shifted closer, and it was not lost to her how their bodies still fit so perfectly together, even with the changes time had bestowed upon them. "Thank you."
Jeremy hoped she couldn't feel the way his heart thundered against his chest, more vicious than the storm outside, then he swore he would combust when her hand grabbed his. Her soft fingers detailed the lines on his palm like she was trying to memorize them again, sear them into her brain as she'd done all those years ago.
Maybe if she'd looked a little deeper, she'd find that her name was written in the weaved crevices of his heart line.
The thought made him want to curl his hand up, shy away from the vulnerability he no longer owed her out of his foolishness. Still, at her contented sigh, her body relaxing against his, he hardened his armor and kept his hand where it was, let her trace his palm as a distraction that seemed to soothe the feelings of anxiety the roaring thundering infected her with until her eyes eventually drooped shut.
And as the night slipped away, Jeremy stewed in the thought that this felt so right and that he'd let that all go.
The sheets rustled beneath Scarlett as the birds chirped through the window, signifying that another morning had graced them. She stirred in bed, a whine creeping up her throat as she mashed her eyes shut to keep the blinding sun out.
"Shit," Jeremy hissed, freezing in his awkward position with his numb arm still tucked under her head. "Sorry. Go back to sleep."
Scarlett didn't question the soothing voice that rocked her back to slumber, even as he moved again, finally able to slink out of bed without disrupting her a second time.
Jeremy pulled the comforter over her shoulders, tucking her in and unconsciously smiling at the way she curled up a little more. When he finally realized it, a strange feeling washed over him.
It wasn't dread—no, he didn't think he could dread anything about her, even when he'd first come to accept the harrowing realization that his feelings for her were anything but platonic. It was something similar, though. Something he shouldn't feel because she was no longer his, because the night-long embrace was a one-time thing to ease the anxieties of an old lover an old friend—a current friend.
And it wasn't some eye-opening fruition that had struck him either. He'd known long before he'd gotten to the Wilfred house that he'd get swept up in old feelings the moment he saw her. She always had that effect on him—the ability to reel him in with her ethereal presence that seemed to put saints to shame.
But perhaps it was a sorrowful acceptance that he'd always feel that way about her, no matter how many years passed on or how far away they were from one another.
Scarlett Davenport had dipped her hand into his heart and taken a chunk of it with her to keep for the rest of their lives, and he was okay with that.
Maybe.
Hopefully.
He liked to think he was.
If she remained insistent that they should stay friends for the sake of their group, he was okay with that, because he had marched out of their relationship like a foolish, unwieldy knight, and now it was his turn to come crawling back to the throne, begging for any shred of forgiveness, any ounce of mercy she would show him.
He would do as she led.
Shamelessly. For as long as he'd let her.
Scarlett woke up a second time, almost an hour later. The sun caressed her skin warmly, a sweet burn that left her craving more. She extended her arms over her head, body stretching like a cat to relieve the stiffness of sleep.
When her eyes finally opened, a flicker of surprise flashed through her. She forgot that she wasn't in her room and, more importantly, why she wasn't there.
Her head snapped to look over her shoulder, and she found the empty space once occupied by Jeremy, the sheets lacking the warmth he radiated. Clearly, he'd been gone for long enough.
Scarlett freshened up in the bathroom. She had yet to find the courage to sneak into her and Cecilia's room, afraid of seeing more of Jake than she'd like, a little scarred and flustered to know she'd heard them both last night.
Her footfalls trailed down the stairs and into the white-paneled kitchen, whose grandiose space was infused with hearty laughter and unfinished sentences that poked fun at one another. Scarlett couldn't help the soft curving of her lips when her gaze landed on Jeremy and Daniel, teasingly nudging and shoving each other as they assembled their sad-looking sandwiches on the marble island counter.
"Oh, hey, Scar." Daniel nodded at her in acknowledgment.
Her smile grew as she waved. She inched closer to them, noting the way the skin of their bare torsos glistened under the morning light. "You guys are up early."
"Danny was showing me one of the new machines they added to the gym," said Jeremy. His breath stayed trapped in his lungs when she slotted herself between him and Daniel.
Scarlett rolled her eyes. "Surprised any more could fit in there."
"Dad got rid of the elliptical."
"Oh, I'm sure your mom was pleased with that."
"She hid his PS5 in a safe and hid the key."
Scarlett hummed. "Of course."
"Want something to eat?" Jeremy asked her.
"Can we make something a little less pathetic-looking than these sandwiches?"
Daniel tried to will offense to his aristocratic face before sighing in defeat. "Yeah."
Scarlett grinned, opening the side-by-side fridge with might. Her eyes canvassed the stocked shelves as her mind conjured something easy yet appetizing to put together.
"French toast with some fruit?" Jeremy offered, his voice a sweet rumble from behind.
Scarlett drew her gaze over her shoulder as he leaned against one of the fridge doors, his arm hanging over the corner. She couldn't stop herself from staring at the defined muscles bulging from his arms and up his rounded shoulders, all gleaming with sweat and that dopamine-infused post-workout glow. A furious blush colored her face when his lips ticked upward in a smug smirk.
She looked away, clearing her throat. "Yeah," she gritted out. "Yeah, that works. You make the toast, and I cut up the fruits?"
"Sounds like a plan."
They gathered the ingredients and set them across the counter.
Daniel plopped onto the plush backless barstool and queued up some songs to gently echo through the speakers mounted throughout the spacious and bright kitchen. His corded forearms braced against the edge of the island counter as he watched Jeremy and Scarlett go about their newfound routine with ease, like they'd been practicing for years.
Something about it bred an image of the past.
"Hey, Danny, do you know if Jake's still seeing that girl from work?" Jeremy asked over the sizzling of the bread in the pan.
Scarlett cast him a sneaky glance. The only indication she knew what was happening was the way she'd slowed down chopping the strawberries.
"No, I don't, actually," Daniel answered nonchalantly. "But Cee might know if they work at the same place. Whoever it is, though, jus' hope she's not one of those Massholes."
Jeremy and Scarlett shared another secret glance.
They continued preparing breakfast.
Scarlett finished slicing up some fruits before pulling herself onto the edge of the counter, her feet swinging in the air like a little kid. Her eyes burned into Jeremy's back as he maneuvered around the stove, but her staring was cut short when Daniel poked her arm. She turned to him and saw an expression conflicted between sympathy, curiosity, and amusement.
Her blinks quickened as she gulped and looked away.
A few minutes later, Daniel excused himself to go to the bathroom, and Scarlett felt relieved that his pitying eyes were no longer tracking her every move.
The longer she remained staring at Jeremy, watching as he flipped the toast and occasionally swayed to the upbeat music coursing through the kitchen, the more an image of a future they could've had began to emerge in her head.
She could envision it: They'd spend their mornings together in the quaint kitchen that spoke of both their tastes—the woodsy decorations reminiscent of his home in Alaska, with hints of the New England coastline threading through the interior—locked up in each other's embrace as they prepared for the day.
Maybe they'd have little kids running around.
But, again, she was reminded that that was not her future to share with him.
"Scar?" His voice gently roused her from whatever rueful trance she'd fallen under.
She blinked the vision away, finding Jeremy standing before her with a white porcelain plate of three pieces of French toast stacked on top of each other on one half and a sprinkle of fruits on the other, all of it doused in syrupy goodness. Her stomach grumbled at the sight of it.
"Thank you," she murmured.
Jeremy stepped back and let her slide off the counter to sit on the barstool. He propped his forearms on the space she'd previously occupied, feeling the residual warmth that clung to the cold marble beneath his skin. His gaze was observant, taking in the shift in her demeanor that contrasted the sanguine music now floating around them.
"You okay?" he asked quietly—like a stolen moment lost to a bustling crowd.
Scarlett gulped down the first bite of her toast, her stomach singing praise to its flavor as it satiated her hunger. "Yeah," she assured with a thin-lipped smile that he reproduced with much more softness. "I was just thinking."
Jeremy hummed, urging her to continue.
"Last night, I really meant it when I said I wasn't angry at you for the way things ended," she said, breath trembling, though her assertion was no less evident. "I've gone through the various stages of grief. The anger's long gone."
Though his sigh reeked of relief—the tension in his shoulders fading like seafom being pulled back into the water—confidence etched itself in his body and in his face that homed a beaming grin that made the kitchen glow. "I know."
A pregnant pause lapsed between them.
Then, a softness painted across Scarlett's face—skin burning with a flush that veneered her freckled cheeks, brown eyes molten with affection. "Good."
Jeremy reached out, his calloused fingers pushing the wild mess of red curls behind her ear. He heard the small hitch in her breath as his gaze scanned her expression—the puffiness under the eyes that hadn't quite faded away yet, the curve of her dark lashes, the rosy tint of her lips, soft like peonies, alluring like the mysteries of the universe.
She was the most gorgeous person he'd ever had the privilege of laying his eyes on. It was a fact that was plain and simple. A dogma.
Scarlett pulled her face away when she picked up on Daniel's trampling footsteps rushing down the hallway.
"Hey!" she protested when Jeremy grabbed a blueberry off her plate. His laughs had butterflies flapping into the pits of her stomach.
"Didn't anyone tell you it's rude to steal, Sway?" Daniel asked as he reappeared in the kitchen.
"Tell that to yourself!" Scarlett smacked Daniel's extended hand, huffing in annoyance as he yelled out in pain, clutching his hand to his chest. "Serves you right, wingnut."
His jaw dropped. "Rude. Should've stayed in Portland if you were gonna be wicked mean to me."
A string of voices echoed into the kitchen from the stairs, drawing their attention as the rest of their friends finally showed face.
Cecilia rounded the corner, she and Jake trailing at the very back. Her gaze found Scarlett's and the color in her face drained like a vacuum had sucked her pale. She flashed her eyes wide and subtly sliced her hand against her neck.
Scarlett merely smirked, her focus sliding to Jeremy, who shared a knowing wink with her. Their fists collided with amusement—a Gotcha! moment—before he went back to making more French toast for everyone.
And for some unbeknownst reason, she felt the shift—the change in their relationship that moved from the gloom of their demise to the golden warmth of something new, something much kinder and hopeful.
Something that assured her that all would end up fine, as it should.
Whatever it was, it left their hearts beating to the rhythm of an old song they were all too familiar with.
After breakfast, Scarlett ushered Cecilia up the stairs and away from prying eyes and ears. They stumbled into their room, and Scarlett slammed the door behind them, hoping Kaia and Daniel wouldn't reprimand her for how the doorframe rattled.
"You and Jake!" She pointed her finger at Cecilia, whose eyes shot wide open.
Cecilia swallowed her surprise. "Me and Jake? What about you and Sway?"
"Don't turn this onto me! We weren't the ones boning!" Scarlett whisper-yelled. "'Fuck, Jake, just like that!'" she imitated, forcing her voice up an octave.
A deep flush streaked across Cecilia's cheeks as she smacked her hand over Scarlett's mouth. "Shut up!"
Scarlett tugged her hand away. "Jake's the guy you've been seeing at work?"
"Maybe," she squeaked out.
Scarlett squealed, grabbing Cecilia's shoulders. She guided them toward the unmade bed. "Wait—never mind, I'm not sitting on here." She then pulled Cecilia onto the floor, sitting cross-legged and leaning forward like she was brimming with excitement. "Tell me everything!"
The knots in Cecilia's shoulders untangled themselves at the sight of Scarlett's unbridled thrill, so redolent of their nightly gossip sessions in their cramped dorm room in Orono. She let the words spill into the air—from the very first hook-up at a company event to the string of dates that followed to the strange in-between they found themselves in that they promised to iron out when they left Cape Elizabeth.
"I never told anyone because I didn't really know what was happening between us," Cecilia admitted. "But I think this is gonna work, Scar. I really want it to work out."
The corners of Scarlett's lips ticked up as she reached for Cecilia's hand. "I think it will," she assured. "It sounds like you two have something special going on, and I'm glad you guys found each other."
"You're not mad I didn't tell you?"
Scarlett shook her head. "No, of course not. Just want you to be happy."
Cecilia bit back her glittering grin. "Speaking of being happy...you and Sway. Spill."
A laugh shuddered through Scarlett. "Nothing to spill. We went on a walk and talked some things out."
"Oh, yeah?" Cecilia raised an eyebrow. "Didn't know walk and talk meant cuddling in bed together."
Scarlett's expression dropped. "How'd you know?"
"Jake went back to his room last night and found you guys sleeping together. He came back fifteen seconds later and said you two were pretty snug under the covers."
"You know how I feel about storms," she said.
A knock reverberated through the sun-encompassed room, and the two girls turned to the door as it opened, letting the muffled sound of music downstairs and the lively chatter of their friends trickle in.
Scarlett narrowed her eyes at Jake. "You!"
His muscles stiffened, hand gripping the doorknob like it was the thing keeping him from plummeting off a cliff. He pointed to himself, finger poking into his sternum. "Me."
Cecilia jumped onto Scarlett when she tried to march over to him, their bodies thumping against the rug. Her hand smacked onto Scarlett's mouth as she scolded her name out.
Scarlett wrenched Cecilia's arm away, hushing her voice in fear it would travel down the hall. "Jake Santiago, I can't believe you were the one screwing my best friend!"
His bulging eyes scrambled to Cecilia. "Oh?"
She offered a sheepish smile, pushing herself off Scarlett's back. "She's actually very happy for us."
"Oh." Jake scratched his wrinkled forehead, confusion lacing his expression. His bottom lip clamped between his teeth as his hands fell to his hips. "Really? Because I was kind of getting the vibe that you wanted to murder me."
"Maybe for defiling the bed," Scarlett grumbled.
Cecilia gave her a look. "Scar."
Jake shook his head. "Anyway, what I was here for—"
"Another round with Cee?"
"No, but I wouldn't be opposed." Jake winked at Cecilia.
Scarlett bit back her smile as Cecilia rolled her eyes.
"Sway's looking for you, Scar," Jake continued, unable to tear his eyes from Cecilia, who gave Scarlett a push toward the door.
"Go find your man."
"Walk and talk, Cee," Scarlett reminded, pushing off the floor. "Walk and talk."
"And snuggle."
Jake pressed his back against the door as Scarlett passed him. "You never denied it, by the way."
Scarlett narrowed her eyes at him. "You're cutting it close, Santiago."
He mimicked kissing sounds as she walked away. "Have fun with your snuggle buddy. Also, your sweater's still in our room!"
Jake's boisterous laughs reflected off the wallpapered walls as she flashed her middle finger at him.
Crescent Beach State Park was bubbling with the soft song of the marram grasses poking through the rolling dunes of sand, herring gulls squawking over the long stretch of oceanfront beaches and saltwater coves, and friends chattering as the briny water came in her reassuring way, as if her joy was to soothe the soul.
Scarlett's sandal-clad feet stepped across the wooden planks that guided them to the beach. Her friends trailed behind her as she led the way, perhaps the most familiar with the trails and crowds strolling leisurely. She was the only one who lived anywhere close to Cape Elizabeth throughout the year, after all.
Her heart skipped a beat when Jeremy sidled up to her. Without saying anything, his large hands hooked under the twined handles of her bag filled with sunblock, books, towels, and a scattering of snacks.
A smile pinned her lips up—soft like the summer-spun clouds ebbing in the gentle blue of the sky. She would blame the coastal breeze for pushing her closer to him, neither pulling away as their arms brushed against each other.
They settled a few yards away from the idle waves, an empty plot surrounded by other beachgoers on their camping chairs and towels under their expansive umbrellas.
Scarlett stretched her blue-and-white towel over the sand and shed her lavender sundress to reveal the white swimsuit underneath. The sun's rays hugged her body warmly, wrapped her in a feeling only Jeremy seemed to replicate.
She stopped herself once she'd realized the thought had formed.
It seemed odd to reminisce about an old relationship when said ex was right beside her, oblivious to the way he still caressed her tender heart, or perhaps entirely aware of the hold he still had on her, a thread wrapped around his finger with a little bow.
Scarlett plopped onto her beach towel with a satisfied sigh, propping her chin atop her folded arms. Her eyes fluttered shut as relaxation crashed into her like the waves undulating onto the rocky ledges and fine-grain sandy shoreline.
The voices of her friends faded as they ventured out toward the water and the area cordoned off for a competitive game of volleyball.
"Well, don't you look comfy," Jeremy said.
Scarlett smiled against the flesh of her forearms. She lifted one of her eyelids and spared him a glance, watching him sit beside her and begin rustling through her bag.
"Yeah, go ahead," she joked.
Jeremy found the bottle of sunblock, snapping the lid open.
"You know, you're supposed to apply that fifteen to twenty minutes before sun exposure."
"Then I'll just sit here for fifteen to twenty minutes," he said, slipping his shirt off before rubbing a glob of sunblock across his skin. "Company's not bad here."
Scarlett forced herself to look away; instead, she focused on grabbing the book she'd nicked from Mrs. Wilfred's bookshelf in the living room. Her eyes scanned over the dark ink printed onto the old pages, but she struggled to move past the first line.
"So, what did Cee tell you?" asked Jeremy.
"They're not official, per se," she said, closing the book. "But they're headed there."
Jeremy heard her breath hitch when his rough fingers gently brushed aside the curly red hair off her back that the wind seemed to blow back in place every time. "Hold your hair for me, babe."
The endearing name had slipped from his mouth so easily that he hadn't realized he'd said it until he noticed the stiffness in her shoulders. A frantic apology nearly echoed into the air until she spoke.
"There's a clip on my bag."
"Thank you," he said, unclamping it from the handle of her bag. He gathered her hair into his hand and secured it out of the way, hoping the prongs of the claw clip weren't digging into her scalp because they looked like they would hurt.
Jeremy squeezed some more sunblock onto his palms, and Scarlett made no mention that she had already applied some before they had left for the beach. His hands glided over the planes of her back, the tips of his fingers sighing in relief at the familiar dips and bumps of her skin he'd once known so reverently—the vivid memories scratching an unrelenting itch like the first step through the front door of his childhood home he could no longer return to.
"Relax, Scar," he murmured, squeezing her shoulder riddled with goosebumps.
"I am relaxed."
"Really?" One of his hands flattened against where he could feel her roaring heart beating to the timbre of his voice.
"Don't act surprised."
Jeremy closed the bottle of sunblock. "Tell me more. About Cee and Jake."
Scarlett shuffled onto her back, propping herself onto her forearms. She recounted what she'd heard, eyes staying on him and picking apart the tiny reactions that twitched the muscles across his face. When she was done with what Cee had divulged, she asked him if he'd gotten anything out of Jake, but that had resulted in a definitive no.
A series of kissing noises mocked them.
Jeremy and Scarlett snapped their heads toward an approaching Jake, who unpuckered his lips and decanted a volleyball from one hand to another.
Scarlett glared, her thumb and pointer finger nearly touching. "This close, Jake. This close."
Jeremy's gaze flickered between them questioningly before he felt his phone vibrating in the pocket of his swim trunks.
"We need one more person to even out the teams," said Jake, nodding toward their friend group, goofing off in the background as they awaited his return.
Scarlett shifted her attention to Jeremy, more than willing to let him have his sportive streak satiated while she flipped through the book she hoped to read without getting distracted again.
Jeremy lifted his gaze from his phone screen and placed his hand between Scarlett's shoulder blades, gently urging her toward Jake. "You go. I gotta answer this call."
"Okay," she relented easily, moving to follow Jake toward the volleyball net, golden sand denting beneath each step.
"Walk and talk, huh?" he teased when she caught up with him.
Scarlett gave him a friendly shove. "Still not the ones secretly hooking up."
Jake shot her a knowing look. "And we're not the exes pretending to be 'just friends' while still in love with each other."
Her jaw slacked ever so slightly as her feet stuttered beneath her, caught off guard by his bluntness.
She thought back to the past few hours. She'd gone from trying to keep her distance, keep things as neutral as possible for the sake of their friends, despite how his departure had bludgeoned the foundations of a future she looked forward to and left her scrambling. She'd gone from that to inching toward him when she could, to craving his touch again, to stealing glances when they thought no one was looking, to sharing jokes that only made sense to them, to having her mind clouded with a dizzying tenderness.
A part of her felt like she'd been transported in time, felt like she was reliving the life of eighteen-year-old Scarlett Davenport, who had been placed in a dorm room just a few doors down from Jeremy's, unknowing of the cherished journey she'd get swept into with him, unknowing of the emotions she'd feel that were all too reflective of the ones she still felt.
And so, the words that wanted to vehemently deny Jake's statement had ground themselves into her vocal cords, stubbornly clinging to their place away from the tip of her tongue.
"Once again, not denying it," he sang with a smirk.
Scarlett's eye twitched, though she let the conversation pass once they reached their friends—a subtle sense of smugness rubbing at their hearts and radiating into the air at the knowledge of each other's secret, something to hang over each other's heads.
"Nice of you to finally join us," Cecilia teased when Scarlett came up beside her.
Scarlett spared Jeremy's direction a glance, his muscled back turned their way as he chatted away with whoever was on the opposite end of the call. She shook her head dismissively and took her position as Ethan served the ball over the net.
Their shouts and grunts resounded over the purling waves, a joyous echo against the clear summer day. Grains of sand clung to their sun-kissed skin as they dove for the ball that'd seen better days, determined not to hear the other half of their group throw gloating words at them. They'd always been a competitive bunch of people.
For a while, it was as though they were a world away from their own, living life as it was meant to be—without the grueling hours or work dangling in their faces, without the stress of upcoming bills prowling around the corner, without the family issues or the friendship dramas or the tumultuous romances that waited for them when they went back to the real world.
For a while, they could pretend that they were back in college, living in the limbo of free-spirited youth and impending adulthood.
"Go, go, go!" Hadley shouted in encouragement when Scarlett dashed after the ball that had gone miserably astray.
Scarlett launched her body forward, arms stretched out and hands clasped together. The volleyball smacked against her forearms, arching through the air and back into the field of play as her body collided with her beach towel, narrowly avoiding Jeremy.
His shoulders flinched, and his eyes flashed wide when she appeared out of nowhere.
Catching her breath, Scarlett rolled onto her back. Her chest rose and fell with each thundering beat of her heart, her lungs desperately heaving for fresh air. She lifted her head slightly to yank off the clip that uncomfortably drilled into her skull.
"You good, Scar?" Maeve shouted in her direction.
She lifted her arm, showing a haphazard thumbs-up to reassure her friends. "I'm skipping out on the next set!"
Her friends went back to their now lopsided game.
"That was a workout," Scarlett mumbled, brushing away the disheveled strands of hair clinging to her sweaty forehead.
Jeremy's laugh was gentle like the breeze as he passed over her navy blue water bottle.
She thanked him, her words trailing off as her breath lodged at the back of her throat when she noticed the fondness swirling in the browns and greens of his eyes, a soft curling of his lips that had her heart stammering.
"Uncle Sway!" came the sweet little voice through the phone.
"Yeah, kiddo?" Jeremy immediately drew his attention back to his phone. His mouth pulled wider, endearment illuminating the crevices of his face as he absorbed the childish blabbering like they were scripture.
Something about the interactions made Scarlett's chest clench as she thought back to the vision that'd seemed so unattainable with him—the kids they'd never get to have because they never made it to that point, the kids they would never be able to take to the park or the rink or to their first day of school or to their shared alma mater, the kids they'd spent hours talking about.
"Uncle Sway, are you with a girl right now?" asked Lily.
Scarlett froze, and her gaze connected with his.
"Yeah, bud," he said. He savored the flush of her cheeks.
The simple question and answer held her in a chokehold. In all technicalities, he was with a girl, but he wasn't with the girl—the one he'd live the rest of his life with. That was a title reserved for someone else now.
"Then why are you on the phone with us?" questioned Harry. "Dad's rarely on his phone when he's with Mom."
Jeremy pouted. "You're telling me you don't wanna talk to me?"
Harry immediately shook his head. "I wanna talk to you!"
Scarlett bit her lip, though she could not hide the creasing of her eyes or the scrunch of her nose. She'd later tease him for getting told off by a kid.
"Can I introduce you two to someone?" Jeremy asked, slipping another glance at Scarlett. Blood rushed to his head, and he wondered why he'd ever thought it was a good idea to let her go, to listen to what others had to say instead of working things out with her, instead of listening to his gut.
With her unruly red hair and big, brown eyes, a shade darker than the freckles drizzled over her cheeks and nose like a cluster of constellations, he was once again overwhelmed with the thought that she was the prettiest woman to ever grace the world.
That wasn't even the most interesting thing about her.
And when Scarlett's eyebrows jumped in surprise, an expression so soft against the pieces of her face that'd been put together by someone beyond any mortal's ability, he swore he'd lost all sense of direction except for the arrow pointing toward her.
Harry and Lily's cheerful voices reeled him back to the moment, begging to meet the person who'd caught their Uncle Sway's attention when she'd crashed into her spot a few minutes earlier.
"What d'ya say, Scar?" Jeremy tilted his head.
Scarlett turned onto her stomach and tentatively pulled herself closer to him. This seemed strangely intimate, but this could happen, couldn't it? She could be introduced to her ex's teammate's children and have it be wholly normal, right?
God, she was entirely in over her head.
Their arms pressed against each other, and Scarlett's heart assailed her ribs—perhaps now a collection of bruised bones and cartilage from how much the organ thrashed against them like she'd run an ultramarathon.
Jeremy tipped his phone toward Scarlett, letting her face fall into the frame. His eyes shimmered with adoration when she smiled and offered a shy wave to the two children he'd come to call family.
"Hello," she spoke softly, introducing herself.
Lily pushed her face forward as if to examine Scarlett's face in greater detail. "Ooh, pretty."
"Yeah, she is, isn't she?" Jeremy agreed.
Scarlett shielded her face against his shoulder to disguise the growing beam that could put the sun to shame.
"Does that make you our Auntie Scarlett?" asked Harry.
Her head perked up, panic settling in her face.
"Wait, who was that?" Linus' voice echoed from the background—an interruption they had secretly thanked to avoid the intricacies of their relationship: the used-to's, the could've-been's, the possibly's that seemed to grow more and more prevalent by the second, patiently waiting to be ironed out in the breaths they shared.
"Uncle Sway has a pretty girl with him," Lily told her dad.
A few moments later, Linus appeared behind his children, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets. "Is that who I think it is?"
Scarlett's eyebrows drew together as she turned her head, confused, tracing the unusually abashed expression marring Jeremy's face.
"Scarlett, right?" Linus asked. "Sway hasn't shut up about you since he found out you were going to be there. I'm Linus—or Ully. Whatever you wanna call me."
"Seriously, dude?" Jeremy sighed.
"I, uh—I know who you are," said Scarlett. "Hard not to when the B's are the Habs' most bitter rivals."
"Oh, that has to be awkward," Linus blurted. The way his face morphed, lips peeled back as terror struck his eyes, had indicated that he hadn't meant to let that instant thought slip past the barriers of his mouth.
Scarlett's nose scrunched, expressing her agreement without the words floating into the air. "My mom's Acadian—only seemed right to root for the fellow Frenchmen."
"Sway, I think we need to talk about your taste in women," Linus teased, hoping it wasn't a misplaced joke, but he figured by their closeness that they'd found some sort of common ground over the past few days, soemthing that allowed them to act friendly despite the past.
Jeremy rolled his eyes, though his attention never waned from her. A lovesick smile pulled at the corners of his lips, tender in a way Linus had never seen before.
"Think my taste in women is just fine," he asserted softly.
Scarlett hated how much his words seemed to shake her organs around until they didn't know what was up and what was down. She hated how easily he'd seemed to demolish the part of her mind still stewing in rationality and remembrance of how he'd left her.
If they knew what was best for them, they'd stop where they were now—perhaps stopped a few miles back before she'd asked him to climb into bed with her. If they knew what was best for them, they would never get back together or even entertain the idea of it, no matter how clear it was that they'd both imagined what it would be like.
They didn't work the first time, and though it was painfully apparent that their affections were still painted on their faces like a blitzing neon sign, they were in new chapters of their lives that had been doing just fine without each other.
Fine. Not perfect. But fine.
They had gone this long with pretending a sliver of their souls hadn't felt like something was missing. They could continue pretending.
Besides, Scarlett almost thought it unfair that he wasn't even trying to tread through the frothy waters to keep himself afloat, to keep him breathing in a world of realism. How unfair that he was letting himself sink back down, to fall so deeply again.
But, God, how unfair would it be to her heart if she didn't let herself have one more taste of him? One more sip of his admiration?
"Ully, I'm gonna call you back," said Jeremy, hanging up and putting his phone down.
"You're sucking up to me," Scarlett finally pointed out.
"Shamelessly flirting," he corrected. "Go on a date with me, Scar."
She sighed his name out.
"Please, I'm not losing you again. Not when I can see that you still care."
"I don't think I could not care about you," she said softly, her voice hushed by the weight of their future suspended in the air.
"Then go out with me." His eyes gleamed with desperation, the edges soft like the currents of the waters he'd gladly sunk through if it meant being wrapped in what once belonged to them.
"I don't want this to be a one-week thing, Jere." Scarlett pushed herself up. "I love you, but I can't let you hurt me when you leave for Boston again."
There was an itch at the back of her throat that would undoubtedly be relieved when she told him about the promotion and her potential move to the same city as him, but a bigger part of her would keep it to herself for a little more time—to make sure that whatever he was chasing after, whatever he wanted, he would remain steadfast with it.
She didn't want her relocation to be a safety net. She wanted him to be certain that she was what he wanted, that even if she wasn't thinking about accepting the offer to Boston, he would still stand by her side and power through whatever the distance would throw at them.
And the realization she'd thought that out seemed to suggest that even her mind never wanted to say no to him. That, if given the chance, both her mind and her heart would jump headfirst to be with him again.
Damn the fact they hadn't worked out the first time.
Still, her mind rallied with the last thread of rationality keeping her together.
Jeremy sat up. "I know there's so much we need to iron out, but I promise—and I know I did a horrible job at keeping it back then, but I swear I'm not fucking thi sup again—I promise it's not just a one-week thing, Scarlett. I want to make this work. I want you."
Scarlett cast their friends a glimpse and remembered the way their breakup seemed to alter things between them for a bit, create a strange rift that only time could mend. She didn't want to put their group through another one of those ruts if she let her heart take complete control and foolishly dove right into the murky waters, only to be met with a hell loop of her own creation.
She'd have no one else to blame but herself.
But the thought of saying no withered something in her soul—felt rotten to the bone.
Maybe she could put her mind to rest and let her heart take over for one.
Maybe something good would come of it this time.
Her eyes latched onto his. "One date. You get one date."
Jeremy let out a breath of relief as he flopped onto his back. "Oh, thank God."
"Don't fuck this up, Jere."
"It can't possibly get any worse than it already is, can it?"
Scarlett lifted her brows. "Famous last words."
"That would imply the last thing I do is talk to you, so I don't really mind."
"You're such a sap."
"For you?" Jeremy smiled. "Shamelessly."
South Portland was only a short drive away from Cape Elizabeth, across the Fore River from Portland, overlooking the islands of Casco Bay. They hadn't quite made it to the fishing wharves or the warehouses-turned-restaurants-and-shops or the cobblestone streets that Scarlett had gotten to know so well during her post-grad years of living in Portland, but she seemed to enjoy that they were staying south of the river.
Music bounced against the walls of Scarlett's car that Jeremy was driving, and for the first time since they'd gotten to Cape Elizabeth, she allowed herself to stare at him—the scruffy facial hair decorating his jaw and the sunglasses she was sure he'd gotten at a gas station because they looked identical to the ones her father had, ones she could confirm were, in fact, from Cumby's.
He spared her a glance, and she could only smile.
They arrived at Coppersmith Tavern and enjoyed a nice lunch that paid tribute to the city's maritime roots, though that was hardly a rarity around there. But Scarlett was sure she'd never get tired of a good lobster roll.
It was nice: She and Jeremy tried to catch each other up on their lives since they broke up, going into more detail than the snippets they'd heard in passing from their friends or saw on social media. They could feel their chests grow a little fuller, more complete, like the hungry hole in their hearts was finally being satiated.
Then they drove closer to the coast, buying ice cream before heading onto the breakwater leading to the Spring Point Ledge Lighthouse. Jeremy slipped his hand into Scarlett's as they stepped over the uneven rocks toward the caisson-style light station, and his heart floundered when she gave him a gentle squeeze.
Scarlett let herself be a tourist as she stood before the lighthouse, posing for pictures that Jeremy insisted on taking. Her cheeks were permanently red as he shouted compliments her way, attracting attention from passersby, but she didn't seem to care, for the only attention she cared about was his.
"Your turn!" she said over the waves crashing into the jagged rocks.
Jeremy took over her spot, and Scarlett immediately had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. After she'd taken plenty of photos of him, favoriting some of them on her phone, she jogged up to him.
"You're doing that thing where you know you're hot and being so annoying about it," she told him.
"You think I'm hot?" he teased.
Scarlett narrowed her eyes at him. "Funny."
"I think you're hot," he said easily, and she looked at him flatly. A laugh rumbled through his chest as he looped his arms around her shoulders from behind. "Don't pretend like you don't know you're the most beautiful girl in the world."
She'd forgotten how much his words made her feel, how much truth they carried, because when Jeremy was the one telling her that, there was no room to ever doubt it.
"Only the prettiest," she said.
"That's my girl." Jeremy pressed a swift kiss on her scalding cheek before releasing her.
Hand-in-hand, they continued down the rugged breakwater and up the stairs of the lighthouse, through the keeper's bedroom, and onto the second deck that overlooked the dark and frothy waters on one side and Fort Preble and the South Portland shoreline on the other.
Scarlett tightly curled her fingers around the metal railing, the seaside breeze tipping the corners of her lips up. She loved her state more than anything, and she doubted anything would ever come close to it.
Down to her bones, she was a born and bred ocean dweller—a seaman with a need to explore and an even bigger need to come home after a turbulent journey over the passionate waves.
Her eyes broke away from the scenery when Jeremy crowded her space from behind, one hand almost on top of hers and the other sprawling across her stomach, filled with butterflies whose wings flapped to the rhythm of the tide.
A sigh pushed past her lips as her back relaxed against his chest, his grip narrowing around her waist. There was no arguing with the stars about how right it felt to be in his grasp, something like crashing onto her childhood bed after a long day.
"Thank you for today," she said. "I had fun."
"That sounds like I didn't fuck it up."
Scarlett smiled. "You didn't fuck it up."
Jeremy let out a breath. "Good."
She spun around, tilting her chin to meet his hazel eyes that screamed with relief. Her tender ribs winced as her heart raced again, brewing with anticipation as his gaze lowered to her lips, red like she'd bitten out of a cherry.
"I think this is the part where you kiss me," she whispered.
Jeremy's face lit up. "You want me to?"
"I never wanted anything more."
Their lips connected in a soft and sweet kiss, soaking up the familiar feeling to make up for the time without it. The kiss was almost too short, but they were still acutely aware that other people were also wandering across the deck, and the moment they pulled away, Jeremy longed for another taste.
"I've been thinking about doing that since we talked on the patio," he admitted. "Y'looked so pretty standing there. Almost criminal."
A spirited blush that rivaled the redness of her hair spread across Scarlett's cheeks. "You're a hard man to get over, Jeremy Swayman," she said, stabbing her pointer finger into his chest. "That day made me realize I never actually did."
"I'm so glad you didn't." He pulled her in for another kiss.
It was the final night at the Wilfred house, and like the first, laughter and music pealed into the air from the backyard, where the sun had cast its golden rays from above as it returned home below the horizon.
And once again, Scarlett found herself on the patio, already yearning for the next time she and her friends reunited here. They would have to plan that out soon, so she had something to look forward to.
The patio door slid open, and Scarlett didn't have to look behind her to know who had joined her. Her heart had already started pounding with a giddiness that reduced her to a crushing schoolgirl, and her lips slanted with a tender smile.
Jeremy hugged her from behind, stuffing his face into the slope of her neck to place a kiss there.
"I don't wanna leave," she mumbled.
Jeremy spun her around, the skirt of her navy blue dress fanning outward like a sunburst. "We'll all be back soon enough, babe."
Scarlett clasped her hands around his neck. "You really wanna do this?"
"Yeah." He nodded firmly. "I'm not letting you go again. I'll do the long distance. I'll do it for as long as we have to. I'll do whatever you want me to."
The determination swirling in the forest of his eyes was mighty like the oak trees whose roots dug into the soil as the wind pummeled into them. It was an all-consuming flame that could keep the Earth warm for all of time.
Scarlett brought her bottom lip between her teeth. She still hadn't told him about her boss' proposition, but the certitude that held his shoulders back and kept his face stern was telling her that it was time, that she could let go and trust he'd catch her and never release her from his grasp.
"What if..." she trailed off, playing with his dark hair. "What if I told you we wouldn't have to do long distance?"
Jeremy's eyebrows pulled together. "What do you mean?"
"The company I work for has a branch in Boston, and they have an opening there." A slow smile stretched across her mouth. "My boss offered the position to me."
"You're joking."
Scarlett shook her head. "I wasn't sure I wanted to take it before, but it looks like I have all the reasons to say yes now. If you want me to."
Jeremy's lips parted, stuck on the millions of words cycling through his head that would never make it out coherently from the shock that short-circuited him. Once part of it subsided, though, he wound his arms around her waist in a bone-crushing embrace, lifting her off her feet and relishing in her cheerful yelp.
He lowered her onto the floor again, his chest heaving with each breath. "Are you sure you want to?"
Scarlett nodded. "It'll be like we always talked about."
Jeremy swore his heart grew three sizes bigger as he flicked a curl out of her face, his hand cupping her jaw—a soft gesture that contrasted the adrenaline coursing through his veins. "Fuck, I'd want nothing else."
"Looks like Boston it is, then." Scarlett's grin widened.
Wasting no time, Jeremy kissed her so ardently that he wasn't sure where he ended and she started, for their souls seemed to intertwine as one. He kissed her like he would never be able to again, as though she hadn't just told him they could soon spend every waking moment together.
"Ew, get a room!" Daniel shouted lightheartedly over the cacophony of their friends cheering and whistling.
Scarlett pulled away with a laugh, eyes glittering fondly at Jeremy.
Cape Elizabeth was one of her favorite things about her state, and as their time there came to a close, she would thank it for bringing the love of her life back to her.
