Forever Starts Tonight (Wilder Family #4)

Chapter 24

Jax

“It’s a house.”

“Glad to see pregnancy hasn’t robbed you of your observational skills.”

I could sense the eye roll more than I could see it.

She let out a shaky breath, pushing the sunglasses back onto the top of her head. “Whose house is it?”

“My friend Henry used to live here.”

“Used to?”

I managed a short nod.

Memories crowded my brain, the day he left the house for the last time, agitated and restless and confused why he couldn’t stay.

Take care of it, kid. Just make sure someone loves it like I did, all right?

Hands tucked in my pockets, I rocked backed on my heels briefly while she continued to stare. The yard was freshly mowed, something I’d done the night before, which is why my jaunt to the Wilder shop had happened in the dark.

Since the house had been empty, I usually swung by on Friday afternoons just after work, but hadn’t had the chance the night before because I was working in my own barn, only derailed when I realized I didn’t have the right kind of small lathe necessary for some spindle work.

Ian was usually the master carpenter for anything to do with Wilder Homes, but no one was going to touch this for me.

Poppy rubbed an absent hand over her belly, the wheels clicking in her head so loudly that I could practically hear the gears as they chugged through the millions of questions.

“Want to see the inside?” I asked.

She swallowed, dancing her fingers over the front of her bump. “Yes.” Then she cut her eyes to mine. “But I need you to tell me why first.”

I held her gaze without answering.

She let out a small huff. “Now is not the time to lose your words, Jax.”

Nerves had my chest tight the longer we stood there staring. Yes, it was impulsive, but it was different. I could handle this differently. Do it right.

“I think you know why.”

Poppy muttered a quiet curse under her breath, lips twisting up as she drank in all the details of the home. “This doesn’t feel like one of those situations where I should assume anything.”

I crossed my arms over my chest and jerked my chin toward the house. “You want your own place, right? Here’s an empty one.”

“And you just … happened to have the key. And know it’s empty.”

Words balanced on the tip of my tongue, straddling an invisible line I really didn’t want to cross. “I take care of it for Henry. He asked me to.”

“Typical. Has a freaking house sitting in his back pocket just when I need one,” she muttered under her breath. Her hands rose and fell in a helpless drop. “Look at it. It’s perfect . ”

The cheery blue siding was freshly painted within the last year, something I’d done when the fading started to get under my skin. I hated the thought that Henry’s house looked old. That it reminded me of how long he’d been gone, and just how much I missed him—missed the role he filled. How thoroughly he’d changed my life when he took me under his wing.

A two-stall garage anchored the left side of the house, and if I closed my eyes, I could still see his car parked in the middle of that pristine garage, ready to be backed up so we could do our Saturday car wash. Leading off the right side of the driveway was a small sidewalk leading to the front porch—big windows on either side of the glossy red door. I painted that too. The second floor had three tall windows overlooking the front yard.

It was tucked back in the cul-de-sac, a large swath of undeveloped land behind it, filled with wildflowers and tall grasses. It got more sun than her mom’s house did because there weren’t as many tall trees filling the neighborhood, which was why there was actually enough grass to mow regularly. Up one side of the street and down the other, neighborhood kids rode their bikes and played basketball in their driveways.

Briefly breaking my rule to never, ever touch Poppy Wilder unless it was an emergency, I settled my hand along her lower back and nudged her gently. “Unless you’ve developed X-ray vision, it’s gonna be tough to see the inside from the driveway.”

She gave me a sidelong glance. “Someone’s full of it today.”

The edges of my lips tilted up briefly, and her eyes snagged on my mouth before she looked away. Wouldn’t I have done the same thing?

The chemistry between us was as natural as breathing since I’d been back. The floodgates opened that couldn’t be closed again. Everything about her made my head spin, and it was impossible to imagine a time when that wasn’t true.

We walked up the step onto the front porch, and I held out my hand, gesturing for her to go ahead. Poppy sucked in a quick breath and walked inside the house.

It was clean and bright, the room empty and smelling like lemon cleaner. She took in the spacious family room with beams running across the ceiling and the flagstone fireplace with a chunky wood mantel in the center of the room. The hearth was big, and at Christmastime, Henry would line it with thick green garland covered with colored lights. I thought it was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen.

She wandered through the dining area that overlooked the huge backyard, and paused at the slider, fingers touching the glass. The meadow behind the house was bursting with color—pink and yellow and white blooms tucked between the tall grasses. Poppy stood at that spot for a long time, staring at the flowers with an unreadable expression.

“Henry doesn’t have any kids?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Never married either. When I was about ten, I thought he was the coolest guy I’d ever met. Told me he was a lone wolf, but it was fine for two lone wolves to hang out together sometimes.” I rubbed the back of my neck. “I wanted to be him when I grew up.”

Poppy’s brows lowered over her big, dark eyes, and after a long moment, she looked over at me. “Looks like you were successful,” she said lightly. “I’ve never met anyone who likes to be alone as much as you.”

God, it hurt hearing her say that. Only truth could cause that kind of sharp pain under your ribs.

Poppy dropped her gaze, sucking in a fortifying breath.

After one more lingering glance into the backyard, she turned into the kitchen, running her hands over the edge of the island, and I saw the slightest tremble in her fingers when she did. Wordlessly, Poppy checked out the back of the house— a full bathroom connected to the laundry room, and another door that led to the two-stall garage.

It wasn’t until we walked upstairs and she saw the first of three bedrooms—painted an eye-bruising neon green—that she finally spoke.

“I think I need some more information now.”

Poppy leaned against the wall, a clear signal she wasn’t looking at anything else until I told her something. Anything.

“I grew up across the street,” I told her first. Her eyebrows arched gently, and I nodded to the window. “See that little red house?” Poppy didn’t answer, but her eyes skimmed the small home. “That’s where my mom and I lived. Henry lived here. He was … I spent a lot of time here on the weekends and in the summer.”

When her gaze sharpened, practically brimming with questions, I had to fight the urge to back away from this. From her. Letting her into this space felt like pulling open my skin and seeing those hidden parts of me that even her brother didn’t know.

“And…”

“And what? It’s been empty for about six months. The last family moved out before I went to Spain. Hasn’t been advertised anywhere, so it’s still empty now.” I held her gaze. “Doesn’t have to be, though.”

Poppy licked her lips. “And Henry is fine with you deciding who rents it?”

“Yup.”

“How much is it?”

I quoted her a number—high enough that it wasn’t an obvious scam but low enough that it was a really good fucking deal. Her eyebrows shot up on her forehead. “For a fully updated three-bedroom house in a great neighborhood with a huge backyard?”

Wordlessly, I stared back at her.

Poppy’s chest rose and fell on increasingly short breaths, her hand moving over the front of her belly. She did that a lot, especially when she was thinking about something.

Her eyes narrowed. “Who would I write the check out to?”

“Emerson Enterprises,” I answered honestly. “It’s Henry’s business name. You know all those car dealerships in Redmond of the same name before they sold a handful of years ago?”

Her eyebrows lifted. “That was him?”

I gave her a short nod.

There was a slight pause before Poppy covered her mouth with her hand and continued staring around the room.

“You think you’d like it here?”

After letting out a disbelieving laugh, Poppy glanced around the first bedroom. “I mean, the green has to go before anything else happens. I’m assuming you didn’t pick this color?”

I shook my head. “That would be the fourteen-year-old girl who used to live here. Her name was Bree, and her parents let her pick whatever she wanted.”

“Clearly, they loved her a lot.”

I couldn’t help but smirk. “Do you want to see the other bedrooms? The primary is across the hall.”

She held my gaze for a breathless moment, and I felt like she was trying to pry straight into my thoughts. But then she blinked and walked past me out into the hallway.

The primary bedroom was even larger than the first, painted a soft, calm blue, with big windows overlooking the backyard and the meadow. She paused at the far window and glanced down at the way the sun streamed across her body. “This would be a perfect place to read in the morning,” she said quietly.

I could see her there. Could so easily imagine the way she’d fill this space with her warm, loving energy. How she’d wake in the middle of a big bed set in the center of the room, sleepy and warm, cuddling under a blanket with her book and her coffee. And for a split second—almost viciously, heartbreakingly clear—I saw myself in bed watching her.

It was the first time I’d ever walked through the house and imagined myself there too, but I ruthlessly snipped the thread holding on to that idea.

Poppy continued through the room, and I pulled in a sharp inhale of orange blossoms through my nose.

The main bathroom got a quick, appreciative glance—especially the large soaker tub tucked into the corner next to the big shower and long vanity. We left the main bedroom quietly, me trailing after her like a lovesick fucking puppy. The third bedroom was the smallest, but when she walked in, her eyes got all big and soft.

“Oh, this would be the nursery,” she breathed.

The way she said it had my chest cracking wide fucking open. Because Poppy could look not that far into the future and see all of this so clearly. Where the baby would sleep and where she’d read in the morning. She could close her eyes and imagine being a mother as easily as breathing, while I was hanging on by the skin of my fingernails with no clue how this would work or if I’d know how to do any of it. From the moment she showed up at my door, I was following her lead, wasn’t I? I was so fucking lost, and the only thing that made sense was her.

“Yeah?”

My voice was rough, but she didn’t seem to notice.

“Yeah. You can see the cherry tree in the backyard. And it’s got the best view of the meadow, too.” She closed her eyes, spreading her fingers wide over her stomach and breathing deeply. “Jax, this is…”

But she didn’t finish.

And I didn’t need her to.

It was perfect. She’d love it. She’d make it a home, and Henry would’ve loved that too .

Because I knew exactly how big this thing was that I was offering her. And fuck, did I want her to take me up on it. There was so much I couldn’t do. So much I couldn’t be for her, no matter how much I wanted.

This I could do, though.

“I need to think about it,” she finally finished, opening her eyes. They were bright and glossy, but no tears fell. “I can’t rush into big decisions.”

“Why not?”

She laughed.

I held her gaze unflinchingly. “I think this is the right place for you. Can’t you feel it when you’re here?”

Poppy blew out a slow breath. “Yes. So do you … would you be the property manager?”

“Sort of.”

“I’m starting to think you are genetically predisposed to cagey answers.” She shook her head.

“Oh come on, I think that’s one of my most interesting traits.”

Her eyes searched mine. “No one warned me how stubborn you are underneath all that quiet.”

My heartbeat stuttered in my ears, loud and erratic. “I think you already knew.”

Her smile was mysterious—Sphynx-like and so intuitive that my hands ached to reach for her. “Maybe I did,” she murmured. “But it’s nice to know we can still learn things about each other, right?”

Now, it was my turn not to answer. There were too many things I wanted to say.

Wanted to. Couldn’t.

Wouldn’t.

“Can I walk you out? Or do you want to keep looking?”

She took one last glance around the room. “No, I think I’ve seen enough.”