If This Was a Movie (Evergreen Park #2)

Chapter 33 – Jules

THIRTY-THREE

JULES

Where are you?

I stare at the text on my phone and then out the front doors of the community center, trying to organize my thoughts as I watch silent, fat flakes of snowfall.

I left the cottage before the sun even rose to go to the community center and dance, needing to clear my head before I went to Nate’s for our talk. I’d been up most of the night, restless dreams plaguing me anytime I tried to fall asleep, but mostly thinking about the chaos of the last few weeks.

The disaster that was my place was flooding.

Finding Nate again, the instant pull we have snapping back into place.

Settling into life with Sophie and Nate and the way it felt normal.

Kissing him at the top of the Swift Building, and it feeling like a movie.

Nate and his whole family coming to my recital to support me, even though they barely knew me.

His mission to woo me, no matter how much I dodged his efforts.

It’s been just a few weeks, and they both have dug themselves so deep under my skin, so far into my daily life, I can’t escape them. More importantly, I don’t want to escape them. While, logically, it tells me I need to just give in and give Nate the chance he’s asking for, all my anxiety-prone mind can do is focus on the aftermath.

What if this ends horribly? If I can’t survive a weekend without wanting to be by their sides, what will it feel like if we go a month, four months, a year, and things go sour?

It would destroy me. That much I know for sure.

For hours on end, I’ve practiced and moved, working through old routines and perfected routines I’ll be teaching in classes in January, trying to numb and block out the never-ending thoughts.

But each time they came through, knocking down the wall, I kept trying to erect them back up. I used to be able to hide away in dancing, the secret place I’d go to escape, but today, it isn’t working.

With each turn and leap, I think about my mom and how we’ll never, ever see eye to eye.

About my father and the way he helped create this reality where I guard my heart.

I think about all of the superficial relationships I’ve had in the past, keeping every potential suitor at arm's length and then cutting them off when they inevitably didn’t live up to the ideal I’d built up in my mind.

I think about Ava, who found love when she least expected it, and Harper, who has been trying to convince herself for far too long that Jeremy is the one for her.

But mostly, I think about Nate. How, for the first time in my life, I feel like I have someone. Someone outside of Harper and Ava who truly believes in me and wants whatever it is I want for myself. Someone worth taking that terrifying leap for.

I know Nate wants me to come to him and tell him I’m ready to take the leap, but if I’m being honest, I don’t know if I’m brave enough. I don’t know if I’m brave enough to tell him I’m ready to take a chance on him, on us.

But I’m also not brave enough to tell him no.

Which is why I sigh when I type out my answer, knowing he is absolutely going to know I went to the community center with every intention of avoiding him for as long as humanly possible.

At the community center.

I set my phone down and begin to walk away from it to the stage, but I’m turning back around when it bings again almost instantly.

A blizzard is coming.

His response is confusing and makes no sense, considering I expected him to start hounding me, telling me it’s time to make my decision.

What?

We’re supposed to get two feet of snow, Jules. Today.

I take a deep breath, looking out the window on the front door and seeing there’s already a thick layer of white on the sidewalks and street.

Once again, Julianne Everett made a stupid, impulsive decision. I can almost hear my mother now. I quickly pull up the weather app on my phone, seeing every hour for the next ten says heavy snow is expected. Sighing, I come to the realization I’ll be stuck here for a while, then shoot a text to Nate. Thankfully, there are water bottles and snacks here, so I should be just fine.

It's fine; I’ll stay here for a bit.

Actually, this might even be the best-case scenario. Maybe I’ll be stuck here for days, no one able to reach me, and I’ll be here alone with my thoughts. I can put off this conversation for as long as I need, give myself time to continue to break apart the pros and cons, and convince myself the best option is to walk away before everyone gets hurt.

Because, in the end, everyone always gets hurt. Right?

Jules, a BLIZZARD is coming.

I roll my eyes, knowing he’s probably pacing the house, running a hand through his hair, an irritated grimace on his face, looking all cute, and—no, Jules. Stop thinking about how cute Nathan Donovan is. We need to be thinking about this with some kind of rationality.

Got it. I’ll stay here until it stops and the streets are clear.

Again, he responds almost immediately.

You’re joking, right?

I’m not stupid enough to drive in this weather.

I type this as I watch the snow come down harder, large flakes building quickly. With my last reply, Nate stops texting back, and instantly, I feel the loss of him and wonder if this is it, the moment he decides I’m too much of a headache, that I’m not worth the chase.

It would be for the best, of course, and would solve all of my problems. And in reality, patient, sweet, kind Nate, with the most precious daughter and the best family, deserves the world. He deserves someone trusting, with no baggage, who can jump in without looking.

Someone who, when a miscommunication happens, acts like an adult and confronts them instead of blocking their number and disappearing for a year. It should be an easy answer. I should protect everyone: Nate, Sophie, and myself, and bow out while I still can.

I spend the next fifteen minutes not dancing to distract myself but laying on the stage and staring at the ceiling, wondering how I got in this position. When the front door to the community center swings open, a burst of cold and fluffy snowflakes coming in, I sit up quickly, spotting a dark figure in the doorway, my heart pounding with panic.

“Come on,” Nate’s voice says, the panic turning into a different kind almost instantly. I continue to stare at him in the doorway, covered in a fine dusting of snow.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, beyond confused.

“Lock up, shut everything down. We have to go.”

I blink at him, still unmoving, trying to put the pieces together.

“What are you doing here?” I repeat.

He steps in, the door slamming behind him and his face becoming clearer—a mask of frustration there. “Jules, there’s a fucking blizzard. Please, get whatever you need and get in the fucking truck.”

“I don’t—” I start, then watch him grab my jacket, turning off lights as he moves around the room.

“Do you have boots?” he asks, looking at my socked feet.

“What?” I ask, feeling like that might be the only thought I can actually finish right now.

“Boots, babe. Do you have any?” His voice is softer now, sweeter, somehow making me more confused.

“I don’t?—”

“We don’t have time for this. Snow’s piling up quick. Where’s your bag?”

“My bag?” I ask in confusion, but he’s already moving to where my slouchy bag sits on a chair, grabbing the items nearby and shoving them in without hesitation.

“Anything else?” Finally, I get it together enough to actually answer, shaking my head. “Great.” Then he slings the bag over his shoulder before making his way to me.

“Wha—” I start, but then shriek as he bends, lifting me gently and cradling my body before making his way toward the exit. “Nate, put me down!”

“When we’re in the car,” he says, pushing open the door. The snow is coming down hard now, an inch or three on the sidewalks. Nate’s boots crunch, compacting the snow with each step as he moves toward the truck idling outside the community center.

“Nate!” I shout, though not moving as thick snowfalls cling to the arms of my sweater, arms that are wrapped around Nate’s neck. I don’t have shoes on, after all. Thankfully, I guess, he continues to ignore me, using one hand to open the truck door, a wave of heat enveloping me as he slides me into the seat, tossing my bag on the floor of the truck.

“Keys,” he says, putting a hand out.

“Keys?” I repeat.

“For the community center so I can lock up.”

I don’t argue; instead, I dig into my bag to grab the key ring, separating the one he needs. He grabs it wordlessly, slamming my door shut as I bend once to grab my comfy but not waterproof boots from the bag. Finally, I tug them on before sitting back in the chair, arms on my chest, watching Nate as he locks the front door.

A moment or two later, he’s jogging around the front of the truck to the driver’s side, opening the door, and sliding in. Slowly, he begins to drive in silence.

“Where’s Sophie?” I ask quietly, noting she’s not in the back seat and assuming school was canceled for the day.

“Staying at my parents for the storm,” he says simply.

I try not to look over at him, but when my curiosity wins, his jaw is tight, and he glares down the road, driving slowly. The roads are empty, and I’m relieved to note a few of the busier roads have been plowed, even if they’re quickly filling back up with heavy snow.

“Where are we going?” I ask as he turns left on Acorn Street, going a different way than I’m used to, probably to stay on the main roads that are more likely to have been cleared.

“Home,” he says, voice low and almost threatening. I should argue and tell him it’s his home and mine is under construction, but for some reason, I don’t. “Back roads are all a mess; it’s better to take main roads when I can. It might take a bit longer, but at least we’ll get there safe.”

I bite my lip, suddenly feeling ridiculous that he had to come all this way just because I wasn’t smart enough to check the fucking weather before I left this morning. I was so caught up in my nerves and, admittedly, my lack of sleep that all I could think of was getting out of there before Nate came to try and talk to me.

“You didn’t have to come get me,” I say as we drive at a snail’s pace the mile to Nate’s place, clearing the road before us as he does.

“I wasn’t going to leave you alone during a blizzard, Jules.”

“I would have been fine.”

“I’m sure you would have been,” he says. “That’s what you want, right? To prove to everyone you’re independent and fine being alone?” I stare at him, but his eyes are on the road, not looking at me. “That way, you can hide in your safe little box where no one and nothing can hurt you.”

I know he’s not talking about being safe during a blizzard anymore, so instead of responding, I bite my lip and look out the window.

“Stay here. I’m going to shovel a path to the house, then we’ll go in,” he says a few minutes later when we pull into the driveway.

“Nate, I’m going to the cottage,” I say low, my stomach in knots.

“No, you’re not.”

“Excuse me?” I ask, feeling my own irritation building because he can’t tell me?—

“Power’s out, Jules. The cottage is going to get really fucking cold really quick. There’s a fireplace in the house, we can stay warm, and I have a generator to keep things going as needed.”

“Oh,” I say quietly, slightly embarrassed.

“But don’t worry, I won’t bother you.”

My head snaps back with his irritation. “What?”

“You ran off in a goddamn blizzard to avoid me, Jules. I told you to come over, and we’d talk in the morning, and instead, you drove a mile into town and planned to stay there with a blizzard coming. Clearly, I’ve been pushing too much, and I’m pushing you away. So I’m just going to…stop.” With that, he opens the door, stepping out and slamming it.

I should be relieved.

I should be relieved that I don’t have to have some big talk with Nate to push myself to do something that’s going to scare me.

Instead, I feel an all-consuming sadness take over me.

I fucked up. I took too long. I pushed him away too much.

Tears start to fall against my will as I come to terms with how big I’ve fucked this up. I just wanted to clear my head, not push him away. And now I think it’s too late.

I watch as he moves to the side of the house, grabbing a shovel and carving a clear walkway between the passenger side door and the front door before unlocking it. Then he comes back to my side, opens the door, and puts a hand out to me.

“Come on. Be careful; it might still be slippery.”

I stare at his hand, then the path he just made for me, then finally, up at Nate. When our eyes meet, his brow furrows with concern.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, opening the door further, but the softness isn’t there. My Nate isn’t here, the one who teases me and pushes me out of my comfort zone because he knows I need him to, or else I’ll stay in the safety of the familiar, lonely but safe for the rest of my life.

Now there’s a wall in front of him, and I wonder if this is how he’s felt the whole time.

“You’re mad at me.” I shiver, staring at my hands, snowflakes floating into the open door, landing on my leggings and melting, but I barely pay them any mind.

“What?”

“You’re mad at me.”

He sighs deeply before saying, “I’m…I’m frustrated.”

“With me?”

He groans, then looks at the gray sky. When he looks back at me, a dusting of snowflakes is on his eyelashes, and I want to wipe them away, but I don’t think that’s my right anymore.

Maybe it never was. I never really earned it, after all.

“Yes. No? I don’t know. I’m mad at myself for pushing you so much to the point you felt you needed to flee in a snowstorm to get space. And with you because you refuse to give us an honest chance.” I open my mouth to argue, but he continues speaking. “January hurt you. But you weren’t the only one wrecked by that, Jules. There’s been no one here for me.”

I hesitate before asking for clarification. “I don’t understand.”

“I’ve been praying every day that I’d get to see that girl again, that I’d find out what happened. That you would show up right when I needed you most. And then you did. You can’t tell me that’s not a sign.”

I shake my head because I can’t fathom what he’s saying, can’t process it, but he interprets it as me disagreeing.

“I forgot. This new, closed-off version doesn’t believe in signs anymore, right?”

I shake my head, tears welling again, desperate to explain, to tell him I wanted to come here and talk to him, but I needed to clear my head first, beat back my fears, and simply lost track of time.

“No! I wasn’t running. I’m just…scared, Nate. I’m terrified.”

“So what?”

“So what? I’m scared, and you say ‘so what?’” I say loudly, the sound buffered by the snow around us, and Nate throws his hands into the air.

“Yes! News flash, Jules, life is fucking scary if you’re living it. You don’t like to be scared, you don’t like risks? Too bad. That’s what life is about.”

My breathing comes heavier, his words fracturing something in me, some barrier I’ve built up, the truth of them shaking me.

Have I been living? Or have I just been hiding, doing the bare minimum to get through each day without the danger of getting hurt?

“I don’t know if you’ve ever let yourself live, baby. But I’m trying to get past your wall so I can make sure you do. I’m trying to make sure from here on out, you live. I want you to chase your dreams and get your happy ending. And do it scared because you know I’ll be there, ready to catch you if you slip. But I can’t do that if you keep hiding, if you keep denying you’re mine.”

Finally, those tiny cracks split open, letting out everything I’ve been holding in, and I put my hands on his chest.

“Of course I am!” I shout, pushing and watching him stumble with shock. I don’t even have time to register the embarrassment I should feel at finally snapping at him because my heart has taken over, my mind and self-preservation taking a backseat. “Of course, I’m yours, Nate! I’m in love with you and I have been for a whole year! It makes no sense at all. None! Do you know how crazy it feels to have your heartbroken after just two nights with someone? Do you know how insane I felt, mourning the mere promise of you for an entire year?” His eyes are wide, but I’m past common sense, I’m past watching my words. “That’s what is so terrifying. I spent a weekend with you, knew you for a week before you broke my heart by accident, and then I spent an entire year mourning the loss of you. What happens if it’s longer? How will I survive that kind of hurt?”

I feel it then, a single warm tear on my cold cheek dropping, but I’m too far gone.

“Jules, baby,” he says low, stepping toward me like I'm a scared animal who might bolt.

“No! You don’t get it, Nate. If this happens, if we happen, I need it to last. I need us to last, or I’ll end up like my mom. I just know it. I’ll become her, cynical and not believing in love or romance or dreams coming true, and what kind of fucking life is that? I told myself I’d rather live in my world where I believe in all of that magic but watch it from the sidelines because it was better than getting hurt again and becoming her. So yeah, Nate, I’m fucking scared.” Nate steps closer. “But I was going to come to you and tell you I was going to try.”

Finally, he pulls me into him, and I don’t fight it. The wall I built has tumbled down, taking all of my mental strength to do it; I’m running on emotions only. My body rejoices at him being this close. His warm breath flutters against my lips.

“You’re in love with me, and it terrifies you,” he says. “I love you, Jules. I love you, and I’m going to fight back your fears every day until all you know is feeling safe.”

“I—” I start to argue or maybe confirm his words, then stop because he shakes his head, little snowflakes stuck to his eyelashes.

“Shut up,” he mumbles, and then he moves, one hand moving to my jaw, tipping it up as his head lowers.

I should be mad.

I should be scared.

Instead, I feel like I’m home.

Instead, my fingers move up, tunneling into his hair as I tug his face down to meet mine. As I press my lips to his, moving to my tiptoes to make the contact easier.