CH. 40

The barn felt colder once Jake left. His scent still clung faintly to the air—warm earth, old cologne, and something unmistakably him. Renee stood there for a few more minutes, trying to hold onto the memory of his lips on hers, the sound of his promise, the ghost of the man who had once almost been hers.
And now, maybe still was. Or maybe not. She wasn’t sure.
Renee made her way back to the house slowly, her boots dragging through the gravel path, her body heavy with thoughts she didn’t want to carry anymore. Inside, the warmth hit her like a wall, but it did little to thaw the knot twisting in her chest. Why had Jake really left?
He said he’d be back tonight, and part of her wanted to believe it. The part of her that still remembered their road trips and inside jokes and late-night kisses. But the other part—the one that had cried herself to sleep after his silence—couldn’t help but wonder if he was running again.

Renee kicked off her boots and walked barefoot across the hardwood floors, moving through the house like a ghost. She stopped in the living room, then the kitchen, her eyes scanning the empty spaces like they might hold answers. But none came. And then—inevitably—her thoughts shifted to Mike.
She sank down at the kitchen table, fingers curling around the edge as the quiet pressed in around her. She’d read his letter three more times after Jake left, and every word left a deeper mark. Love was serious, he’d written. And it’s okay if you love Jake more.

But why hadn’t he talked to her first? Why hadn’t he fought for her instead of leaving a note?
She thought about writing him back. Drafting a letter of her own—something honest, vulnerable. Something that asked the questions that had been keeping her up since dawn.
But her heart was already racing with something else.
Impulsively, Renee grabbed her phone and stared at his name in her contact list. Her thumb hovered over the call button. He won’t answer, she told herself. He left because he needed space. Because he doesn’t want to make this harder. But still… she needed to try.
She pressed the call button and held the phone to her ear, already bracing herself for voicemail.
*One ring.*
*Two.*
*Three.*
And then—“Renee?” His voice hit her like a jolt. Gentle. Surprised. Still warm in a way she hadn’t dared hope for. She swallowed the lump in her throat. “Hey,” she said softly. “I didn’t think you’d pick up.”
“I almost didn’t,” he admitted. “But I saw your name and… I couldn’t ignore it.”
Silence stretched for a beat too long, filled with everything they both wanted to say and didn’t know how.
“I got your note,” she said finally. “I… I understand what you were trying to do.”
“I didn’t want to make you choose while your heart was still confused,” he said. “But maybe I went about it the wrong way.”
“You did,” she whispered.
“I know.” Another pause. “I need to talk to you,” she said. “Face to face.”
“Do you want me to come over?” he asked. Renee closed her eyes. “Yes,” she whispered. “I do.”
“I’ll be there soon.” And just like that, the line went dead—but the storm in her chest was only beginning to stir. The knock came just as the kettle started to whistle.

Renee’s heart jumped. She turned off the stove and stood still for a breath before moving to the door.
Mike stood on the porch, hands in his jacket pockets, eyes searching hers the second it opened. He looked tired—but still like home. “Hey,” he said softly. “Hey.”
She stepped aside and let him in, the air between them heavy with unspoken things. Mike walked to the kitchen slowly, like every step he took might change something. Renee poured the tea but didn’t hand it to him right away. Instead, she leaned against the counter, her fingers curled tightly around the mug.
“I wanted to talk about the letter,” she said quietly. “I figured.”
He sat at the kitchen table, his jacket still on, but his shoulders more relaxed than they had been in days. “You don’t owe me anything, Renee. I meant what I said. I wanted to give you space. Time.”
She sat down across from him, searching his face for cracks. “But you didn’t talk to me first, Mike. You just… left.”
“I was trying to do the right thing,” he said, voice low. “I didn’t want you to feel trapped. I didn’t want to be the reason you couldn’t figure out what your heart actually wanted.”Her voice faltered. “I kissed Jake.”
He nodded once. No flinch, no visible hurt. Just a quiet acceptance. “I figured that, too.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be. That’s the whole point, Renee. You needed to feel it, face it, not run from it. I just wanted you to have the space to do that.” His calmness only made the ache in her chest sharper.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” she admitted. “I’m not even sure what’s real anymore.”
Mike leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “If you choose me—if we try again—I know it won’t be easy. I know we’d be starting over, carrying baggage. But I’d be in it. All the way. Even if it’s messy.”

“And if I can’t let go of what happened between me and Jake?” He was quiet for a beat. “Then I’ll still be proud I loved you enough to give you the chance to find out.” Her breath caught.She looked down, shaking her head. “How would we ever recover from this?” Mike stood. Then he leaned down, gently hooked a finger under her chin, and lifted her face to his. “We’d start here,” he whispered. And he kissed her. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t angry or desperate. It was steady. Real. A kiss full of happiness, and love that hadn’t faded—only shifted.
When they broke apart, their foreheads touched, breaths mingling in the space between them.
But the silence that followed wasn’t soft. It buzzed. The air pulsed with something heavier than emotion—want. Mike’s hand slid to her hip, his thumb grazing bare skin beneath her shirt. Renee’s lips parted, breath hitching as her fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket. She didn’t pull away. Neither did he.

Because despite the confusion, despite the past—what existed in that moment was something undeniable. And dangerously unfinished. Mike kissed her again—deeper this time, more urgent. His hands gripped her hips, pulling her closer until her legs brushed against his. Renee gasped into his mouth as his fingers slipped beneath her shirt, sliding higher, slowly, deliberately. He grazed the curve of her waist, his palm warm against her bare skin. Her hands fisted in his jacket, pulling him tighter. Their kisses turned messy, hungry, months of love pouring out between breathless moans and unspoken need. When his thumb traced just under her ribs, her body trembled, and she arched into him, craving more-craving everything he hadn’t said yet. He lifter her shirt higher as he whispered, "Are you sure?"