Chapter 25 For the next five days I don't leave the cabin except to walk down by the lake each morning or sit on the porch with my laptop when I feel like I need a change of scenery. I write and delete and rewrite and sometimes want to scream at the screen, but I don't stop. Aidan comes by every afternoon. He sits in the living room with his guitar and practices while I edit. I'm going to miss listening to him play when I leave. Nick stops by in the mornings before he heads to the rink. I'm not always awake, depending on how late I stayed up writing the night before, but I know he's been here because of the freshly brewed coffee waiting for me. On Thursday, Olivia calls for the third time in two days. "Hi!" I answer, stepping out onto the porch and shielding my eyes from the bright sun. The mid-afternoon heat is sticky and the air is thick. "Hi? Really? That's all you have to say for yourself?" My sister shrieks on the other end. "I'm sorry I haven't checked in sooner." A smile tugs at my lips as I take a seat on the rocking chair. "The words are finally flowing, and I didn't want to stop." She's quiet for a beat. "Liv?" "I'm here. Sorry I yelled at you." She's so bad at being mean it makes me laugh. "It's fine. I need someone to remind me the world is still moving around me. Sorry I didn't answer. How are you? I miss you." "I miss you too." It feels odd to have gone this long without seeing her. We've lived with or near each other for our entire lives. "Is the writing really flowing or were you just saying that to make me feel bad for yelling at you?" she asks with a laugh. "It's really flowing. Finally. I wasn't sure it ever would again." "You're too talented to retire before your thirtieth birthday." "Thanks." I pull my legs up and hug them to my chest. "How's the bookstore? How's my niece?" "Store is good. We have a new summertime reads table featuring our very own Ruby Madison." My sister runs a family bookstore, started by my grandparents, and her passion for creating new book displays is up there with her love of her daughter and husband. "I'm sure it's gorgeous." "And Greer's good. She's why I'm calling. Her softball team made it to the championships." "Really?" "Mhmmm." "That's amazing!" Since I've been gone, Olivia's kept me up to date with pictures and videos and an occasional chaotic voice message from my favorite little girl. She's done a variety of activities over the years, from dance to tennis to Lego club, but since she started softball, it's become her obsession. "I'm so sad I've missed all her games this summer." "Trust me. There will be plenty more." "Still. The championships? That's...wow." A pang of longing and homesickness stirs inside me. "Yeah, she's really excited. She wanted me to invite you to the game. I know you're not supposed to be back until the end of the month, but I promised her I'd tell you anyway. She said you would want to know." "She is correct. I'm so proud of her. Where'd she get all this athleticism from?" "Beats me. The game is Saturday evening. Mom is planning to record the entire thing so if you can't make it, then I'm sure you can catch the replay from her." "Tell her I'll send the team jet to get her if she wants to come," Flynn yells in the background. "Is he serious?" I ask, brows lifting at the idea. I mean, is that even a thing? "Sadly, he is one hundred percent serious. He's flying so many people in you'd think she was playing in the Little League World Series instead of a local championship game." "It's a big deal!" Flynn shouts, still far away. "I love that he's so good to her." "Yeah, me too. It's why I let him knock me up." I chuckle. "Is she in?" he asks. "Is she coming?" "I'm definitely in," I say with a laugh. "Really?" Olivia asks with a hopefulness that confirms it's the right thing to do. "Of course. I can't wait to see you guys." I am excited to see them but the thought of leaving has an uneasy feeling swirling in my stomach too. God. I'm one big ball of emotions lately. "Ahh. I'm so excited. Flynn made shirts. Be prepared." "Ask her if she wants hers to say Aunt Ruby or The Cool Aunt," Flynn says in the background. "Dealer's choice," I say. That man truly loves my niece like she were his own. She relays back what I said to him, and he promises to send me all the details later tonight. Then Olivia and I spend a few more minutes talking while she fills me in on everything happening back home-from Dad's new pickleball hobby to Grandma's knee surgery. All things I already heard via text but getting the full update is so much better. My well is full by the time we hang up. I sit on the porch, smiling out at the lake with my chin resting on my knees and the wind blowing through my hair. This might be my favorite place in the entire world, but I miss my family. If I could plop them here it'd be perfect. I wonder if I can work out an ongoing summer rental agreement with Nick. Spending a few months here every year to write sounds lovely. We could continue our fling every summer. Walks by the lake, boat rides, skating, writing, listening to Aidan play guitar, and hanging out with Nick every possible moment. I know it isn't a realistic fantasy, but I indulge in it for a few minutes anyway. My attention is broken only when I hear the slam of a door. Aidan has his guitar slung over his shoulder and it bounces against his little body as he jogs down the steps and then toward the cabin. I stand to greet him as he approaches. "Hey." He's carrying a glass container in one hand and stretches it out toward me when he's close. "From my dad. He said you probably haven't eaten all day since you're on deadline." I take it but laugh. I guess he forgot that he brought breakfast and coffee by this morning. "Thanks." Inside the cabin, I take the food to the kitchen. "Did you eat yet?" I ask him as I pry off the lid. The smell of chicken and cheese and some sort of spices or sauces that I can't place makes my stomach growl and my mouth water. "Yeah. It's not bad." The way he says it has me second-guessing. I could DoorDash tacos for the third time this week. "He's been trying new recipes, swapping out foods to make them healthier for Grandpa. He has a bad heart." "Your grandpa does?" Aidan nods. Nick never mentioned it. Not that he should, but it hits me how little of our lives we've shared. Somehow, I still feel like I know him better than just about anyone. "That's nice of him," I say of Nick making special foods for his dad. "Yeah, I guess so, but it's not really working." "No?" Aidan's mouth turns down at the corners, but he still somehow smiles. "Last night I saw Grandpa eat an entire bag of chips and then hide the evidence before Dad got home." And that sounds just like Mike. "Well, some healthy food is probably better than none." "Yeah, I guess so." Aidan shrugs one lanky shoulder. He goes back to strumming the guitar and I take a chance on the food. It's actually pretty good. Nick Galaxy can cook. Who knew? After I eat, I get back to work. One of the many things I love about writing is that I can do it anywhere. Especially when I get stuck. I move from standing at the kitchen, to sitting on the living room floor, to the front porch, back to the kitchen. I keep hoping that the change of scenery will unlock the missing pieces to finish this book. I'm about to run a bath and see if soaking in the tub will help when Aidan hits a chord that makes my eyes cross. He grunts in frustration. "I suck at this shit!" As soon as the outburst is out of his lips, he looks over at me like he's expecting me to admonish him. "Sorry." Aidan's face scrunches up in apology as he lets his hand fall away from the strings. "You don't need to apologize." I lean back from my computer screen. "I just deleted an entire page that was almost entirely describing the smell of hockey pads." I scrunch up my face in the same way he had, and a laugh erupts out of him. I join in. "Some days are hard. It makes us appreciate the good ones more." He looks unconvinced. "My mom says that. I have no idea if it's true," I admit. "I'm never going to get this song right." "Of course you will. You just need a break. You know what else my mom says?" He grins in that half-smile way his dad does, showing off the same dimple. "When all else fails, bake something." I move to the fridge to inspect the ingredients on hand. It's not much, but I can work with it. I preheat the oven and pull out everything we're going to need. Aidan hasn't moved from the couch, but he watches me. "Are you going to help or what?" I ask him. He sets his guitar down and gets up, walking slowly to stand on the other side of the counter. "I don't know how to bake." "It's easy. Do you have any allergies?" He shakes his head. "Okay." I nod my head toward the sink. "Wash your hands and then I'll show you how to make one of my favorite cookies." He's hesitant at first, cracking eggs and measuring out the flour, but by the time we're scooping the dough onto a cookie sheet, Aidan is all smiles. "What's your favorite dessert?" I ask him after I set a timer. "Ice cream," he says quickly. "That's my niece's favorite too. Chocolate or vanilla?" "Cookies and cream." "Ooh. Good answer. I like that one too. My favorite is butter pecan." "My dad likes that one too." "Does he?" Aidan nods. "And peach pie." "Really?" "He tried to make it once." "Tried?" "It looked weird and tasted awful. Even Grandpa wouldn't touch it." Poor Nick. "Pies can be tricky." As I start to clean up our mess, Aidan surprises me by jumping in to help. I load the dishwasher while he puts away everything else. When the timer goes off, we share a smile. The smell of sugar, butter, and chocolate wafts out when I open the oven. Aidan hangs back, but peers down to watch as I pull the pan out. "Woah. Those look like the ones at the store." His eyes are wide with excitement. "Hopefully they'll taste better." There's nothing like homemade treats. I smile over at him as I set the pan down to cool. "Now we wait for them to cool." "How long?" His eagerness has me feeling impatient too. "Five minutes." He frowns, looking like a mini grumpy Nick. "Want to play the song for me while we wait?" I ask. "It's probably still going to suck." "So what? We have to do things badly in order to do them great." He mulls that over for long enough that I'm prepared for him to say no, then trudges over to the couch. He picks up the guitar and then looks up at me with a resolved but hesitant expression. "Here goes nothing." I take a seat on one of the barstools in front of the kitchen counter and give him my undivided attention. For all the times he's practiced here, I haven't had the opportunity to unabashedly watch him. I knew he didn't want that any more than I want someone peering over my shoulder while I write. He takes his time getting situated, guitar resting on one leg, hands in place on the strings. His dark hair falls onto his forehead and into his eyes, and his mouth pulls into a line of concentration. The first strum has goosebumps dotting my arms. Not because it's the best thing I've ever heard but because I feel like I'm witnessing someone push through the suck. The greatest lesson I've learned with writing and in life is to keep going. I haven't always taken my own advice, but I believe it with my whole chest. For a few people, maybe they're great at something the first time they do it, but for the rest of us, it's determination mixed with a healthy dose of optimism. It's awful now but it won't be if I just keep going. When he hits a wrong chord, he looks up with a bashful grimace, but he doesn't stop. The song moves slower than it should as he picks out each part, but I can see him getting more comfortable with each passing second. The back of my eyes sting as I sit there and listen to him fumble his way through the entire song. When he's finished, quiet rings out in the cabin for a beat. He stares down at his guitar like he's lost in the moment of completion. My chest swells with pride. As soon as he meets my gaze, I break out into a smile and start clapping. His shy grin appears and it eggs me on. I stand, jump up and down and cheer like I'm at a sold-out concert venue. Maybe someday I will be. "You finished it!" I take his hand and raise it, making him get silly with me. "I messed up a bunch still." "Celebrate the small wins." The timer goes off on my phone. "Speaking of celebrating." We rush to the kitchen together. I hand him a cookie, then take one for myself. At the same time, we take a bite. "Oh wow," I say with my mouth still full. Aidan takes another huge bite and nods. Only when the cookie is gone does he say, "I can't believe we made that. It's the best cookie I've ever had." "You know, it might be the best one I've ever had too." A knock at the cabin door makes us both look in that direction. "Come in!" I call as I take another cookie from the pan. Aidan does the same. Slowly, the door swings open and Nick steps inside. "Dad!" Aidan runs to him. "We made cookies." "I see that." He uses the pad of his thumb to wipe a smudge of chocolate from the corner of Aidan's mouth. His son ducks away and then comes back to the kitchen. "I'm going to take one to Grandpa!" Aidan says, taking a stack, then grabbing his guitar off the couch. "Don't eat yourself sick," Nick tells his retreating son's back. "I won't!" Aidan yells over his shoulder. Nick and I grin at each other. "Ruby," Aidan doubles back as he calls my name. He has that adorable chocolate smile aimed right at me as he stands in the doorway. "Yeah?" "I hope you write a really bad chapter." His grin widens, then he rushes off. A laugh bubbles up in my chest and spills out. Nick arches a brow. "I'm hoping that's an inside joke." "Yeah. We're suffering for our art." "Another reason I'll never be an author or a musician." He steps closer and then brings his hand up to wipe the corner of my mouth too. I'd be embarrassed if these cookies weren't so freaking good. "How was your day?" he asks. "Good. Yours?" "Good." He leans down and presses his lips to mine. "Better now," I admit. I feel his mouth curve into a smile. "Thanks for dinner," I say when he pulls back. "You're welcome." He stands next to me with his back against the counter. "How'd writing go?" "Still stuck, but I'll get there." "Any chance you want to take a night off tomorrow?" he asks. "Aidan and my dad are planning a Rocky movie night." "That's adorable." "It's my dad's sly way of getting junk food into the house." He raises his hands into the air and does air quotes as he says, "for Aidan." "That sounds fun, but I'm leaving tomorrow." "Oh." His body stiffens. "Not leaving leaving. Just for the weekend. My niece is in a softball championship. I'll be back Sunday or Monday." He nods with a thoughtful expression on his face. I've made it weird somehow or maybe it's only awkward because it's the first time we've talked about me leaving since we started hooking up. "Maybe we can hang out next week sometime?" I ask. "Sure. Of course." He smiles but it feels all wrong. "If you have time. I know you need to finish the book. That's the whole reason you came, right?" The pit in my stomach grows. "Right." Because it is the reason I came. But it isn't the only reason I want to be here anymore. The next morning, I leave early for the airport and stop by the rink. Nick is exactly where I expect to find him. He looks up from the ice, brows pinched together, when he spots me. He skates over to me, a smile forming as he gets close. "What are you doing here? I thought you were leaving this morning." "I am. I'm on the way to the airport now." I hold up two coffees, one in each hand. "Time for a quick break?" "Yeah. Of course." He steps off the ice and we sit on the bench. His leg presses against mine as he asks, "Excited to see your family?" "I am. I've missed them." "I'll bet." "What are you going to do this weekend? You know, besides hockey." He smirks. "My dad has a doctor appointment in Bozeman this afternoon. I'm going to drive him and make sure he stays out of trouble." "For his heart?" I ask, then admit. "Aidan mentioned something about it." "Yeah." Nick's chin dips as he looks away. "He had a heart attack at the first of the year." "I'm sorry. That's scary." He bobs his head again. "He's okay now, though. Right?" "The doctors say everything looks good for now. I guess I'll know more today." I hadn't meant for this visit to turn into an interrogation, but now that we're on the topic of parents, there's one thing that I've been wondering about. "You never mention your mom. Is she in the picture at all?" His mouth falls into a straight line. "She died when I was in college. About a year before Aidan was born." A pit forms in my stomach. "Oh, god, Nick. I am so sorry. I had no idea." "I know." He shakes his head. "It's okay. You couldn't have." With my free hand, I squeeze his arm. He attempts a smile. "I should talk about her more, I suppose. I think about her a lot. It's weird passing by big life moments without her. Having a kid, getting drafted, moving around, buying a house..." "You were close, then?" "We were. She was the best." He clears his throat and then turns his head to look at me. "What time is your flight?" I tell him and then we chat about all the things my family has planned for the short time I'm in Arizona. Greer's baseball game, family dinner, a trip to the bookstore where my grandma and sister work to sign their stock of my books, and my dad really wants me to play pickleball with him now that I'm "into sports." I didn't have the heart to tell him no, so that should be interesting (aka, a disaster). When it's time for me to go, I stand and wrap my arms around Nick. I am excited to see my family, but I think I'm going to miss him. "See you in a few days," I say as I pull back. "Don't have any fun without me." A real grin finally pulls up the corners of his mouth. "See ya, Red." Discover our latest featured short drama reel. Watch now and enjoy the story!