Falling For Us Again

4. A REAL FIX

Chapter 4

A REAL FIX

Jenna

“This place needs more than just a bit of tidying up,” Dylan says, assessing the ceiling. “The ceiling needs to be fixed soon.”

As he assesses the ceilings, I can't help but stare at his broad shoulders and muscular build, exuding an effortless masculinity that is both captivating and infuriating me for noticing.

I shift from one leg to the other, feeling uncomfortable in the way my thoughts betray me when it comes to him.

I cut him off, my expression firm. “It’s fine. It’ll be sold soon.”

“You're still staying here in the meantime.”

“For now. I won’t be here for long.”

Dylan turns to me, hiding his expression behind a blank stare. He shoves his hand into his pockets.

“I see.” Is there disappointment in his voice? Or wishful thinking on my part.

My body is hyper-aware of his presence, my nipples sensitive as they brush against my shirt.

I hate that he can still make me feel this way. I really thought all those years apart would have dissolved it, but I realize now that it has only made my desire for him more intense.

The way he kisses me, touches me... No one has ever made me feel like I’m coming apart like him. It’s maddening.

I stare at him, taking in features that have become even more striking with age. He’s ruggedly attractive with a strong, chiseled jaw currently set in a determined look.

A stray strand of dark hair falls rebelliously across his forehead, making me itch to brush it back. His green eyes, framed by long thick, dark lashes, are intense and penetrating, making me feel hypnotized.

Lola steps in, fanning herself with a hand. “It’s hot in here.”

Dylan’s face curls into a lopsided grin, his words laden with implication. “It sure is. Don’t you think so Jenna?”

An unwitting image of him pressing me against the wall flashes in front of me, and I instinctively press my thighs together to stop the throbbing between them.

I clear my throat, looking away from him.

“Come sit, Lola.” I gently lead her to a sofa.

Dylan chuckles behind me. “Anyway, I can call a carpenter to fix this. And I can come by this weekend to help with the yard. As good neighbors would... and as old friends.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I’d prefer to hire professionals.”

He smirks. “Okay then, I can help you find some people if you don’t want my help. I’ll send their contact information to Lola. Just make sure you do something about the ceiling.”

“How about a coffee, guys?” Lola suggests, trying to lighten the mood. “You look like you could use a break, Jenna.”

“That sounds nice. Let me just clean up a bit.”

“Dylan, you’d like some coffee too, right?” Lola turns to him, her tone hopeful.

Dylan hesitates, his eyes flicking to mine. The atmosphere in the room is stiff with tension.

Lola, sensing the strain, clears her throat. “It would be nice for us all to catch up. Just like old times.”

“Not you being sentimental.” He teases her.

She laughs. “I’ve just missed my friends.”

My hands fiddle with a loose thread on my sleeve to avoid meeting anyone’s gaze. The thought of sitting down with Dylan to reminisce, even for a few minutes feels overwhelming.

“Unfortunately, I can't stay any longer.” He glances at his watch. “I’ve left the cafe for too long. Maggie is not going to be happy with me.”

I watch as he turns towards the door.

“Are you sure?” Lola persists a hint of hope in her voice as she walks him to the door. “It’s just coffee. Won’t take long.”

Dylan pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob. He turns back to face us, offering a lopsided smile. “You know very well that if we begin talking, it’s going to take the whole day,” he laughs, his eyes lingering on mine. “Thanks anyway, Lola. I’ll see you around.”

As the door closes behind him, I release a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. The room feels different without him in it, both lighter and heavier at the same time.

Lola sighs, breaking the silence. “Well, that was... intense,” she says, attempting to lighten the mood again. “Let’s get that coffee, shall we?”

“Yes please.”

I head to the kitchen, grateful for something to do. Lola follows me leaning casually against the counter as I prep the coffee machine.

"It’s been a whole decade, Jenna."

"I know. It's hard to believe, isn’t it?"

"You look amazing," she says, her eyes bright with admiration.

"And you look beautiful, Lola," I reply, offering her a warm smile. "I am so proud of your for pursuing your dream of becoming an artist."

“Yes, I am an artist.” she says, gesturing to herself playfully. "It wasn’t easy, but I made it."

"I'm so proud of you."

"And I’m even more proud of you," she says, pulling me into another hug. "I tried reaching out a few times when you released your first book, but I guess with your popularity, my emails must have been lost in the sea of messages."

" I’m sorry. I should have reached out." I say, remorse tinging it.

A moment of silence passes before I continue. "I just couldn’t bring myself to. I guess I wanted to leave my old life behind as quickly as possible. It was too painful."

Lola gently squeezes my hand. "I could never resent you for not reaching out. You did what you needed to do.”

I smile at her in grateful relief.

"When I came across your book, I felt so proud. I've been collecting all your work since then. You're an incredible author, Jenna."

"That's so kind of you to say."

"How's Aunt Mila?"

"She's doing great, still a force to be reckoned with in the world of finance."

"I was shocked to hear you were back in town. I almost didn’t believe it until I got your text. I’ve been in New York for the past week."

I run a hand through my hair. "You and me both. I didn't think I’d ever come back here."

"There’s been rumors for a while that you were planning to sell the property."

"That’s true. I still intend to sell it," I say, a hint of melancholy underlying my words. "I’m just here to take one last look, mostly because Aunt Mila insisted."

She raises a curious brow. “I always hoped that someday you would come back. Now, you've decided to sell it?”

I take a deep breath, trying to find the right words. "Yes. I feel like the final piece that’s preventing me from moving forward is this house. "

"I can understand that. Sometimes letting go is necessary for healing.”

"Exactly. Every corner of this house reminds me of the past. While some of those memories of my mom are beautiful, the majority are just too painful."

"And Aunt Mila?" Lola asks. "What does she think?”

“She says I should spend some time here because there are some things, some things, that I can only uncover by being here.” I make air quotes as I say that.

“I don’t know why I dwell on it. It seems ridiculous thinking about it now.”

Lola considers this for a moment and lets out a sigh. "Wow, Jenna. That sounds heavy."

"It is," I agree. "Part of me wants to move on and not be anchored by the past, but another part of me feels guilty about letting go of something so significant. I guess that’s why I’m here—one final visit to decide if I’m ready to let go completely or if there’s still something worth holding on to."

She reaches out to squeeze my hand one more time. "How are you feeling being back here?"

"It's been a little overwhelming," I confess. "I turn a corner, and a distinct memory resurfaces. Even now, as we sit here, I’m reminded of those Saturdays when everything was simpler—my mother and I sitting together like this.”

“She’d do her pedicure, and I’d ask her to do mine as well." I let out a small laugh.

"But I know I need to face this place one last time," I continue, my voice steadying. "I need to confront my demons and find a way to move on."

Lola hesitates, glancing at me cautiously. "I don’t know if I should bring this up, but... Dylan."

My muscles tense. "What about him?"

“Did you get a chance to talk about the past? I was surprised to see him here, but I guess I shouldn't. You two always find each other.”

I shake my head. “We haven't really spoken, and I don’t know if I want to. It’s not going to make a difference.

"I understand," Lola replies, her gaze intent on mine. "But you never know. It's worth discussing, at least to clear the air. And the way you both looked at each other, there's still something there, I know it.”

My hands tremble slightly as I pour the water into the coffee machine. “It’s not that simple.”

"Do you still resent him?" Lola asks gently.

"In some ways, perhaps I do," I admit. "But in other ways, I wonder if I really have a right to resent him. I was the one to break his heart, and if I was in the same situation again, I’d still make the same decision.

I guess most of my resentment is tied to this place itself." I pause, searching for the right words. "With Dylan, I’m not even sure resentment is the right word. Maybe it’s just a deep disappointment about what could have been if things were different.”

"I’m sure he feels the same way," Lola says softly.

"Maybe so," I reply. "But it’s all in the past now, I don’t even think about him anymore.

The words are a lie, but I don't dwell on it. The thought that he hated me for how I left made it easier.

The coffee begins to brew, filling the kitchen with its rich aroma. I take a deep breath. There’s so much to process, so many emotions I’ve long pushed aside. But for now, I focus on the simple task at hand.

“There’s so much I want to tell you,” Lola says excitedly. “So many things to catch up on!”

I smile broadly. “I have all day.”

The coffee machine beeps, and I pour the steaming liquid into two cups, handing the other one to her.

“Thanks,” she smiles, taking a sip. “This is just what we needed.”

I offer a small smile, the warmth of the coffee seeping into my hands. “Yeah,” I agree softly. “Just what we needed.”

Lola settles into a chair and launches into a lively update about everything that’s happened since I left. Her stories are full of small-town drama and personal triumphs that I’ve missed. For the first time in a long while, I feel a sense of genuine happiness.

As Lola talks, I take in the room around me. My eyes dart to the wall where Dylan kissed me earlier, and a flush creeps up my face. For a few minutes, we put aside our baggage and only pursued our intense desire for each other.

As the conversation flows, I realize how much I’ve missed this—the friendship, the sense of belonging. I’ve been so focused on running away from my past that I forgot the good parts, the ones worth holding on to.

Lola shifts the conversation to lighter topics, filling the room with laughter and warmth. The thoughts of Dylan gradually dissipate, replaced by a comforting familiarity.

But even as we laugh and reminisce, I can’t shake the feeling that this is just the beginning. There’s a deeper reason I’ve returned to Hartlow, something I need to know. The broken ceiling, the disarray—it all feels like a metaphor for my life, a life in need of repair and understanding.

The hours slip by, and as the sun begins to set, casting a golden glow through the windows, I feel a sense of peace. It’s fleeting, but it’s there. A glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty.

“I’m glad you’re back, Jenna,” Lola says softly, her hand resting on mine as she makes her way to the door. “We’ve missed you.”

I don’t ask who the ‘we’ referred to. I’m not sure I want to know.

“I’ve missed you too,” I say, squeezing her hand. “More than I realized.”