It Was Always Only You: A Love Story, page 1
© Jade Jo
Copyright 2024
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Prologue
I know this book is not perfect. I wrote it quickly when I had some down time. I was listening to “How You Get The Girl” by Taylor Swift and the idea built in my head. I don’t watch Hallmark movies but I understand the general plot line. I wanted to write a Hallmark type story, but turn it smutty. As I got writing this book adding smut didn’t really seem to fit (until the end). So I guess all I did was write a Hallmark romance. A story like this has probably already been done, but I hope you enjoy it anyway.
Chapter 1
Polly - present day
Maybe. Just maybe more than eight years away from this town was enough time for me to heal.
Maybe.
Maybe. Just maybe I’ll be able to get through the next ten days without having a mental breakdown.
Maybe.
I breathe in, and follow my older brother Chet into my childhood home. His dark hair sticks out of his baseball cap, and I watch as he carries my suitcase in with one arm. Single fatherhood has worn him down, his shoulders slump a bit more than they used to.
The house is a modest light blue colonial style home with black shutters and a dark wooden door, protected by a glass storm door. I hear the familiar swish and clunk as it bangs shut.
The house still smells the exact same, a little musty through the scent of the Febreeze linen air-freshener that my parents have always preferred. The walls are painted a salmony beige, they pull more pink in the day when the sunlight filters through the windows, but at night they look more tan. The linoleum flooring running through the foyer into the hallway and throughout the kitchen is a tan grid pattern. The carpet, a dark sage green stretches through the living room. My parents’ denim sofas and cream colored fabric wing back chairs show wear now from being sat in for decades. Everything is original from the 90’s. Nothing has been updated. Nothing has changed. And all the memories from here start surfacing in my brain.
“Welcome home, Pol.” Chet says, “I’m glad you’re here” he says and pulls me close for a quick hug, he smells like mint and smoke. I really hate that he’s picked up smoking. “I’ll stick this in your room.” He motions with his head down at my hot pink suitcase in his hand, and gives me a half smile.
“Thanks Chetty.” I whisper.
I breathe in again, and follow my nose to the kitchen, where it smells like my childhood. Like the rest of the house, the kitchen is the same. It’s quite small, but Omma makes the most of the lack of space and uses every inch of the insides of the honey oak cabinets for storage, and even the tops of the formica counters. There is a lot for such a small space, but she’s always kept things so neat and tidy. Omma is hunched over the open oven, sticking a toothpick into brownies. Her once dark hair, is more silver than black now, and is pulled back into a bun at the nape of her neck. I smile at the familiar scene. She spent my childhood years baking and cooking for us any chance she got. She still wears the same apron she always has, it’s light blue gingham cotton with a ruffle around the bottom. It was a mother’s day gift from Chet and I when we were young. It’s fraying and fading from years of use. It’s tied a little tighter that it used to be, her already petite frame has thinned out over the years.
She pulls the pan of brownies out of the oven. The smell wafts through the air and has my mouth watering. More memories surface. I push them down before they can bob back up.
I lean onto the square kitchen island, waiting for her to close the oven. When she turns to face me, she startles “oh Polly, you scared me! I didn’t hear you guys come in.”
I find myself frowning at her. She’s getting older and it breaks my heart. She’s nearing seventy now and I hate being an adult now that realizes their parents are getting older. Since I moved away, her and Dad try to come visit at least once a year, but since Dad’s cancer has returned, they haven’t been out to see me in over a year. Her wrinkles are deeper than I remember them. She moves slower, still graceful as ever, but slower. I know the recent years have taken a toll on my parents’ health.
Guilt settles into my stomach.
I should be a better daughter. I should visit more.
“I’m sorry mom.” I say softly, pushing myself off the counter and meeting her for a hug. She’s warm and smells like the Estee Lauder fragrance that she’s worn for as long as I can remember.
“Thanks for coming Pol,” she says, pulling me tight. “You really didn’t have to, you know.”
“No I did, I really did.” I say back as she hugs me tight, she pushes my hair away from my face, examining me. I watch as her eyes start at the top of my forehead and make their way down my face.
“Have you been wearing your sunscreen? You have more freckles than you used to.” Omma is Korean American, her parents immigrated to America when she was a baby, but she grew up immersed in Korean culture. Taking care of her skin has always been a priority.
“Yes, Omma,” I say back. I don’t do a twelve step skincare routine like she does, but I do make sure to wear moisturizer with SPF every single day.
“I’ll send you home with more sunscreen.”
Chet clears his throat from behind us, “I’ll be back later tonight.”
“You’re not staying for dinner?” Omma asks, frowning at him.
“No, I’ve gotta run some errands and I told Nora we’d go to McDonald’s when I pick her up from her Brooke’s. We’ll see you later tonight.” He gives us each a hug and pats me on the head, messing up my hair a bit, like old times.
I really hate how much this place hasn’t changed.
“Where’s Dad?” I ask.
“Upstairs, resting. He’ll be down in a bit for dinner. Come, sit, tell me everything.” My mother says, taking my hands into her small ones and leading me over to the large sofa in the living room just off the kitchen. “So, tell me what’s new with work.” She says, her dark eyes sparkling with enthusiasm and joy.
“Well,” I start, sinking into the large familiar denim sofa. “We just submitted a bid for a large resort in Pacific Grove. We’ll hopefully hear back on it this week. If we get it, it’s going to be really cool. The developer wants an old timey coastal feel and lots of flowers. It’s right on the beach, and it’s going to be beautiful.”
I skip the part where I’m having doubts about my work and career choice and have basically been feeling lost since forever, but mostly as of late. I miss my family, I miss feeling like I belong somewhere. I feel like I’m a rock in the river, and everyone else I know is the water, moving forward and around me, and I am stuck. I am constantly looking at job openings closer to home, but I’m never brave enough to actually apply to any of them. I am constantly staying up late tossing and turning in bed wondering why I feel so unfulfilled and like something is missing. Yeah, I’m a mess.
“You’ll have to send me pictures,” she squeezes my hands tight and smiles at me.
“I always do.” I reply.
“And what about things other than work? How are your friends? How’s Carson?”
I shake my head, “Carson and I are taking a breather.”
“Again?” She asks, but she doesn’t sound shocked.
“Again.”
I haven’t shared a lot of details about Carson with my parents. They met him two years ago when they came to see me for Christmas. They know that Carson and I are on and off frequently. Carson is fun, he’s adventurous, he keeps me on my toes. But we go through a lot of highs and lows, too many highs and lows. We both don’t feel like the other takes things seriously enough. He says I am not giving him my all and that I have walls up. I don’t like like that he doesn’t want to get married or have kids. And I want that. At least I think I do.
“Well, are you planning on seeing anyone while you’re here? Did you hear that Winifred is engaged?” She beams with pride about Winnie. Winnie is her only niece of her only sister. We are only six days apart. We’ve always been close, until I moved away.
“Oh yeah, I did hear about Winnie and Simon. I’m hoping to grab lunch with her. But other than that, I’m here for you and Dad.”
Dread settles into my chest. Will I be able to get through my time here? There are too many memories here that I don’t want to think about. Too many things that remind me of him.
My brother Chet is going on a week long Disney World trip with his daughter Nora, and didn’t want my parents to be left alone. I really wanted to tell him no, that I couldn’t take the time off work, but my boss had overheard the phone call and insisted I come. I also felt extremely guilty that Chet takes care of them all alone while also raising his 9 year old daughter. When I left this place after high school, I ran. I ran and I never looked back.
I’m a lot older than I was when I left this place, and hopefully more mature. I can handle this. Right?
Omma snaps me out of my thoughts, telling me she’ll go wake Dad up for dinner.
Dad’s cancer has relapsed. His first round was when I was in High School, it was mild and we knew he would survive, there was nothing to be afraid of. This time
“My dear girl.” Dad says, entering the room. I find myself frowning again about the aging process, and he looks so sick. My heart breaks.
He’s bald now, and thin. Too thin. I hug him into me and feel a rush of emotion remembering how not that long ago when he would hold me, he felt so big and strong. Now I feel like I could snap him in two if I hug him too tight.
“Oh, Pol, don’t look at me like that!” He smiles at me. “I know I look like shit, but I feel fine.” He lowers himself to a chair at the table.
“Steven,” Omma warns, she hates cuss words.
I sit down across from him. The honey oak chair feels familiar beneath me. I remember writing Chet’s name on one of the kitchen chairs once and thinking my parents would believe he did it. I wanted to get him in trouble. I was five and he was ten. I wrote the E backward, so of course they knew it was me. I never figured out how they knew it was me until I got older and could still see the outline from where I wrote it.
Omma places food in front of us.
“So… did you hear about the Davenports?” Dad asks nonchalantly.
The Davenports.
Omma furrows her brow at him, “of course she’s heard about the Davenports.”
“Yes, I heard.”
I heard they divorced right after Suzanne’s graduation. I heard that Lori travels the world with her new rich boyfriend, and Don died drunk driving when he drove into a tree.
“We still see Theo, of course” Omma smiles.
Of course.
No one has talked about Theo to me, no one. Not even Winnie, and I know she still moves in the same circles as him. I’ve wondered about Theo all these years, because how could I not? But I was also too hurt to ask anyone about him. Over the last eight years curiosity has gotten the better of me, particularly on nights when I’ve had too much to drink, and I tried to look him up on social media a few times, but he either doesn’t seem to have any accounts, or he has me blocked.
My throat feels dry and I grab my glass of water and take a sip.
“He inherited the development business which he has really turned around, it’s doing so well now. And the house is his now. Suzanne too, of course, but she didn’t want to live with him there, so she has her own place.”
I choke on my water, I feel the sting in my nose and eyeballs.
“Are you okay?” Omma asks, reaching out and patting my back gently.
“So Theo…” I choke out, “So Theo lives across the street still?” I manage to breathe out as I set my glass back down on the table, my shaky fingers trace the rim as I try to digest this information.
“Of course.”
Of course.
I feel like the wind has been knocked out of me. This is completely unexpected. When I agreed to finally come back here to my hometown to help my parents, I was not expecting to see Theo. He is the reason I stay away. When I heard that Don died, I assumed they sold the house. I scold myself internally. I shouldn’t be surprised that I was wrong. I’ve learned my assumptions are almost always wrong, but I keep making them anyway.
“He comes and helps us around the house sometimes, I know Chet is here, but Chet works long hours and he has Nora of course, and Theo just wants to help out. Such a dear boy.” Omma says brightly.
She did not just call him a dear boy.
“So, no one was going to tell me that Theo lives across the street from Omma and Dad still.” I say to Chet, leaning against his bedroom doorframe after everyone has gone to their rooms for the night.
Chet sits on a large leather recliner in his room facing a small TV, an XBOX controller in his hands, and a headset on his head. His room is a mess, too small for all his stuff. I feel bad he’s had to move back in with my parents since his break up with Brooke. I wasn’t here when they broke up last year, but Omma kept me updated as best she could. It was extremely messy, even though Chet tried his best to make things amicable for the sake of Nora. But Brooke made it her mission to make things as hard and miserable for Chet, which has left Chet heartbroken. You wouldn’t know it from looking at him though, he keeps himself busy with his EMT job, picking up extra shifts when he can, so he can support Nora. He spends his free time at the gym on the weeks he doesn’t have Nora. He’s clean cut, keeps his face freshly shaved, and his hair quite short. On the outside he looks fine, but I can see the sadness in his eyes, and his posture. He looks beaten down.
I should have been here for him.
I think guilt is going to gnaw at me for the rest of my trip.
He grunts at me and then leans forward on his chair and grabs a water bottle off the ground and takes a big swig from it.
“I feel like someone should have told me.”
He shrugs “thought you knew.” I know him well enough to know he wants me to go away.
“No, like I said, no one told me.”
“Why does it matter?” He asks, but I can tell he’s not listening completely. “On your right!” And I realize the second part was for whoever is on the other side of the headset. His fingers move on the controller frantically and his eyes dart around the screen. He’s playing some sort of war game.
“Because I didn’t think I was going to run into him. If he’s still across the street, I’ll definitely be running into him.”
I’m not ready for that.
I am second guessing my trip now, if I had known about my close proximity to him for the next ten days, I don’t think I would have come, or I at least would have been able to mentally prepare myself better for it.
My stomach flips and I glance out Chet’s window at the house across the street. I had avoided looking at it when I had arrived. Now that I know he lives there, I’ll have to avoid the front yard like the plague.
I stand there listening to the joystick and the buttons on Chet’s controller click. He finally grunts, “you’re selfish and need to get over yourself.” More clicking. “No, not you, sorry, I’m talking to Polly.”
“That’s a really shitty thing to say to me,” I mutter.
He sits back, and I look at the screen, it looks like the round is over. He moves his headset so one ear is uncovered, he bends the mike away. He finally looks at me “Thought you were over it.” The game resumes, he sits forward, popping his neck, his eyes darting around the screen.
“Of course I’m over it.”
Mostly.
“Then why does it matter?” He’s frustrated now.
Because he humiliated me. Because he was my best friend since Kindergarten. Because he broke my heart. Because he’s the reason I ran away. Because of him I’ll never be the same.
“Well it doesn’t matter, but I still feel like one of you could have mentioned it to me before I got here.”
It does matter.
Chet moves the microphone so he can speak into it “hold on, I need a minute.” He pushes a button and then moves the microphone again so it’s out the way. He squares his shoulders at me “why?”
“You know why.”
“I don’t know, not really. I know that there was some high school drama and then you took off after graduation. That was so long ago Pol, you’ve got to let it go.”
“Hmmpf” I scoff.
Let it go?
“You never come home, Polly. Did you know he’s an emergency contact for Nora at school? He is, and my own sister is not. Did you know he takes Dad to his radiation appointments when Omma or I can’t? Did you know that he mows the lawn for them, and does their grocery shopping when I have busy weeks at work? Did you know that last year when their furnace wasn’t working he spent half the weekend fixing it? Did you know that he coached Nora’s soccer team most of the season last year because I threw out my back and couldn’t? No, of course you don’t know. You don’t know anything about anyone here. You have your own life in California now, and he’s still part of ours, here.”
My jaw drops and I feel tears prick the edges of my eyes.
“Sorry,” and for a second I think he’s apologizing to me but I watch as he rearranges the headset on his head “I’m back now. I was talking to Pol. Alright, let’s go.” He’s talking into the microphone on his headset, it’s back on both his ears, and his focus is back on his game.
