I walked through the training center, scrolling through my iPad and checking on the supplies I ordered. I gasped when I bumped into someone.
"Sorry about that, Y/N," Chad Powers said sweetly. I looked into his eyes, hating this sense of deja vú I've had as long as I've worked with him.
"It's alright, Powers," I tried to brush off, quickly looking away.
"You ready for the game?" He asked, trying to keep the conversation going for some reason.
"I'm not playing," I shrugged, "so why would I have to get ready for it?"
"I don't know," Chad stuttered. "I just thought. . ."
I studied him, waiting for him to continue. He didn't. The more I studied him, the more I realized that he was trying to figure out why I wasn't impressed by him. It's simple, really. None of these players impressed me. It's nothing I haven't seen before.
"You good, Powers?" I asked with a smirk on my face.
"You're our physical therapist," he pointed out for some weird reason.
"I know that," I said, slightly teasingly. "I've been with the team longer than you have, Powers. So the better question is, are you ready for the game, Mr. Quarterback?"
"I'm always ready," he said a little too quickly. I watched as his eyes slightly widened. "You know. . . Ready as a bear to go into hibernation."
"A bear," I said slowly, "going into hibernation. . . Really? That's the metaphor you wanna use?"
"I just. . ."
I studied him for a second before letting it go. "Don't forget, after the game we need to do your cool down exercises."
A few weeks ago, Powers got tackled right as he threw the ball and ended up dislocating his shoulder. I was able to relocate it in the locker room right away, but dislocations are rough.
Once you put the bone back in its joint, you have to do intensive physical therapy to regain its strength. Ever since his tackle, I've made him do several exercises to help.
"I remember," he smiled at me. "I always remember my sessions with you."
Wait a minute. . . Was he flirting with me??
Ew.
I sent him a hesitant smile before turning on my heel and walking to my office. When the game started, I waited a few minutes before finally heading out to the field. I hate all the celebrating, pumping up, and hoorahing that goes on before a game, so I wait it out.
I watched the game from my usual spot, waiting for an injury. Usually, during a good game, I have nothing to do. It's the bad games that I'm running around the whole time.
But ever since Chad Powers joined the team, I haven't had much to do. I've helped the team with minor injuries caused by a bad tackle. I spent the game watching Powers a little closer. I couldn't shake the feeling of deja vú. To be fair, I always have this, but it gets stronger when I watch him play.
There was something familiar about how he moved on the field. I just couldn't place where I'd seen it before.
I didn't figure it out until a few games later. After the game, I was waiting for Chad, but he didn't show up. Frustrated and wanting to go home, I went looking for him. When I found him, I caught him fixing the weird sweatband he always wears on his arm. It was then that I saw the tattoos.
And just like that, I figured out why I was constantly feeling deja vú around him.
Chad Powers was Russ Holliday.
* * * * *
The week after making the connection, I sat back and watched him. The more I watched, the more I realized how stupid I was. It was so obvious.
Even though I knew the truth, I kept it to myself. I was well aware of what Russ Holliday did to destroy his career. After rewatching the videos, I could see why Holliday became Powers. To be honest, it made me feel bad for him.
I walked out of my hotel room and instantly saw Powers duck back into the hallway. I pretended like I didn't see him as I walked to the ice machine.
"There's no point in hiding, Russ."
I heard him swear under his breath.
"Come on out," I sighed.
I turned and crossed my arms over my chest, waiting for him to stop hiding. When he did, I could've laughed at the look on his face.
"You look like a little kid who got caught with his hand in the cookie jar," I smirked.
"You knew?" He asked.
"Come on, Holliday," I scoffed. "I'm the team's physical therapist. When I watch a player play, I see how their muscles and their bodies move. Which means you can change your name and your jersey, but you can't change how your muscles move."
He cleared his throat and nervously fixed his hat. "Calm down," I sighed. "I'm not going to say anything."
"You're not?" He stuttered. I sent him a look that made him clear his throat again. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," I laughed. I studied him and noticed him anxiously checking the hallway. "You wouldn't be trying to sneak out, would you, Powers?"
"I umm. . . I need to. . . I'm out of glue."
"Glue?" I smirked.
"For my. . ."
"Makeup?"
"Yeah," he said, looking away.
"You know, I expected you to be a little more confident as Russ Holliday," I teased.
"Look," he scoffed, instantly snapping into his facade, "this is all a little tense, alright?"
"Calm down," I said firmly. He cleared his throat and apologized under his breath. "You can't leave the hotel. If you get caught, you'll be kicked off the team."
"Well, I can't play without my disguise," he sighed.
"Unlike you, Powers," I said, teasing him with his fake name, "I can leave the hotel."
"Are you offering to go get the glue for me or rubbing it in my face?"
"I'm offering," I sighed. "Damn, Holliday. You don't trust anyone, do you?"
"Kinda hard when I'm keeping this huge secret," he mumbled as he leaned against the wall.
"Might be easier if you had someone other than Danny to talk to," I offered, slightly looking away from him.
"Of course, you know that Danny is in on all of this," he laughed. "You know everything, don't you?"
I just shrugged. "Text me a picture of the glue you use, so I know which kind to get."
I started to walk away, but Russ spoke up. "Why are you doing this?"
"It's just an errand," I shrugged.
"Still," he hesitated. "Why are you helping me?"
I looked at him, slightly struggling to find my words. I took a shaky breath before simply answering him.
"Why not?"
* * * * *
It didn't take long for me to get the glue he needed. I weirdly felt nervous as I rode the elevator up to our floor. I tried to shake off those feelings as I walked down the hallway toward his room.
"Just knock, you coward," I scolded myself when I hesitated at his door. I forced myself to finally knock. He slowly opened the door, fully opening it when he saw it was me.
"You're back," he sighed, probably letting out the breath he's been holding since I left.
"There you go, Holliday," I said, handing him the grocery bag. I rolled my eyes, my earlier nerves disappearing when he checked the hallway. "Relax," I sighed. "It's an hour past lights out. All you good little football players - well, all the other ones - are asleep. Your coaches are definitely asleep. You're fine."
"Thanks," he said, slightly clearing his throat. I sent him a nod before beginning to turn toward my room. "Y/N, wait."
"Yeah?" I asked, turning around. I hated the weird feeling I got in my stomach when I saw the way he was looking at me.
"You're really not going to say anything?"
Of course, I internally scoffed. The only reason Russ Holliday is speaking to me is because of his little secret.
"Don't worry," I scoffed, not hiding my annoyance. "I won't tell a soul."
I turned on my heel and started to walk to my room. I only got a few steps before Russ stepped out into the hallway and grabbed my wrist.
"I didn't mean. . ." He stuttered as he turned me toward him.
"I don't know why I didn't see it before," I slightly laughed as I pulled my wrist out of his hand. "Then again, Russ Holliday is a womanizing ass whose ego is the size of Canada, while Chad Powers is a sweet, bungling idiot."
"I don't know which of those statements offends me the most," he awkwardly chuckled.
"Was either of them wrong?" I asked, crossing my arms over my chest. I smirked when he cleared his throat.
"No," he mumbled under his breath, "they weren't. But. . ."
"But?" I asked, slightly softening my tone.
He looked at me, and I noticed him take a deep breath. "But I'm trying to be better."
"By lying?"
He didn't have an answer to that one. Instead, he just stared at me.
"It's. . . It's complicated," he finally stuttered.
"No," I sighed, "it's not. You do realize that even if Chad Powers takes his team all the way to the Rose Bowl and wins the whole thing, it's not going to reverse what Russ Holliday did."
"What do you. . . What do you mean?"
"Come on," I sighed. "You can't be this naive. Winning the Rose Bowl as Chad Powers is not going to fix how losing the game made you feel, Russ. So my questions for you are simple. What are you really after? Why did you create Chad Powers? Was it just to go back and win the Rose Bowl? Or are you looking for a more personal redemption?"
I stared at him and waited for him to answer. When enough time had passed, I scoffed and shook my head.
"That's what I thought," I said, finally walking away. "You can change your name, but you can't change who you are."
* * * * *
Confusion flooded me when someone knocked on my hotel room door. I glanced over and saw it was a little after 2 AM. Not thinking about my attire, I got out of bed and went to answer the door.
"Seriously?" I scoffed when I opened the door to Russ Holliday. Suddenly, his eyes scanned my body. That is when I realized I was wearing a loose tank top and short shorts to bed. I glared at him as I crossed my arms over my chest, slightly covering myself. "What do you want, Holliday? Chad Powers has a game tomorrow."
"I've been thinking about what you said," he answered, finally looking away from my cleavage. "And you're right. I created Chad Powers to give myself another chance at the Rose Bowl, but it's not about that anymore. It's about proving that I can be a better man without letting my ego get in the way. I mean. . . That's what happened last time. My ego got in the way and made us lose. And the thing is, I'm not any better than I was last time. I'm still the same quarterback on the field, but I can be a better guy."
"Congratulations," I sighed, leaning against the doorway with my arms still crossed over my chest. "Why did you have to come to my hotel room and tell me this at 2 in the morning?"
"I wanted you to know," he said, no longer sounding confident.
"Why?"
My question seemed to stump him. Or so I thought.
My breath got caught in my throat when he took a few steps closer to me and grabbed my hands, unwrapping them from around myself, and pulling me a step toward him.
"I wanted you to know because I wanted you to know that I'm not the same Russ Holliday that everyone remembers," he said, his voice dropping to a whisper.
"You still didn't answer my question," I said, my voice matching his. "Why do you care whether or not I know that you're not the same. . ."
He cut me off by leaning down and pressing his lips to mine. It took me a second before I started kissing him back. Our lips moved messily in sync as I tried to forget who I was kissing.
"I care that you know," Russ said, breaking the kiss, "because I care about you."
"Russ Holliday actually cares about a girl?" I teased. I gasped when he picked me up, wrapping my legs around his waist. The look in his eyes changed as he stared into my eyes.
"Yeah, I do," he said, his voice so low it gave me chills.
My heart jumped into my throat when Russ slowly smirked. His smirk fell when I unwrapped my legs from around him.
"Y/N. . ." He stuttered as I gently put my hands on his chest and pushed him a few steps back.
"If you really want me to know that you're not the same Russ Holliday that everyone remembers," I started to say.
"I do," he insisted, slightly cutting me off.
"The old Russ Holliday would take me into my hotel room and have his way with me to try and show me how much he cared," I continued. "But if you really want me to know that you're not that version of yourself, prove it by not doing what he would've done."
I held my breath, waiting for him to respond. The longer it took him to voice his thoughts, the more I started to worry.
"You're right," he said with a small smile on his face.
He leaned in and delicately pressed his lips to mine. I waited for him to deepen the kiss, but he didn't. When he broke it, he leaned his forehead against mine.
"I'm gonna do it," he whispered. "I'm gonna prove to you that I am not the same Russ Holliday that everyone remembers."
I leaned back and saw in his eyes that he really meant what he was saying.
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As Pete drove away from the airport, I was suddenly hit with anxious nerves. I didn't have to think long about why I was feeling this way. I knew exactly what was causing this.
Well, I guess I should say who.
When I couldn't handle it, I had to bring her up.
"So, is everyone here already?"
"Why don't you just ask what you want to ask?" Pete laughed.
"Is Y/N here yet?" I asked, my voice slightly lowering.
"Yep," he smirked, sending me a knowing look. "She's been here two days preparing."
"Her desserts deserve two days without all of us in the kitchen," I said, remembering how much time she spends working on even the simplest of desserts. "Let me guess," I smirked, "she spent the first day making little treats to help her get used to the new kitchen."
"That is exactly why she came early," Pete laughed. I tried to ignore the look he sent me.
Y/N, Pete, and I have been friends since childhood. Pete and I were friends first, then I met Y/N in third grade. That was the one year that I didn't have class with Pete. I went back to being a quiet, reserved kid the minute I didn't have Pete. Y/N helped me come out of that.
To be honest, I was a little nervous to introduce Y/N to Pete. When Pete and I were together, we were crazy and obnoxious. We didn't care who saw or heard us. Y/N and I were the opposite. We were quiet and more reserved. We did things together without wanting people to hear or see us.
With Pete, I would loudly play video games and play pranks on people. With Y/N, I would read and study. With Pete, I'd happily go to any party. With Y/N, I'd happily stay home and watch a movie with her.
The three of us balanced that. When the three of us were together, Pete and I would remain crazy, but Y/N would try to calm us down. She would sit back, watch us be stupid, and laugh while slightly shaking her head. She'd always stop us if we were about to be too stupid or our pranks were too much.
"You know what I don't get?" Pete said, snapping me out of my memories. "You've been in love with our best friend since we were in middle school, and yet, you've never said anything."
"What don't you get?" I asked, slightly readjusting in my seat.
"We've known her since third grade, Ben," he sighed. "I don't understand how you've never told her how you feel."
"I couldn't," I stuttered. "It would. . ."
"Ruin our whole dynamic," he cut me off, making fun of me. "That's such bullshit, and you know it. You and Y/N already had a separate friendship."
"No, we didn't," I said dismissively.
"Yeah," Pete laughed, "you guys did. And it's fine. I was never left out. But I also wasn't stupid. You have always been closer to Y/N than I have."
"We weren't. . . I mean. . ."
"I hate to admit it," Pete said, cutting off my stuttering, "but I think you've missed your chance."
"What do you mean?" I asked, not meaning to sound as panicked as I did. "Is Y/N. . . Is she dating someone?"
"No," he said, glancing at me with a weird look in his eyes. "I meant the fact that Y/N no longer needs a guy to take care of her. She's perfectly settled. She has one of the most successful bakeries in LA. She's baked for more famous people than you and I could name. She's been in numerous magazines and on the cover of more."
"I know," I mumbled. "I have all 13 of them."
"My point," he smirked, "is that she no longer needs someone to swoop in and take care of her. When we were kids, Y/N needed us to protect her, to take care of her. Which you so willingly would jump to do. But now?"
"Now?"
"Now she's got a successful business and doesn't need a man to take care of her," Pete said as he pulled up to the house.
"Just because her bakery is successful," I mumbled as he got out, "doesn't mean she no longer needs a man to take care of her."
* * * * *
When I walked into the rental, I instantly looked for Y/N. It didn't take long to find her, and I didn't need to search much. She was right where I knew she would be: the kitchen.
My heart jumped into my throat when I saw Y/N focused on the cake she was working on. I stayed in the doorway and watched her finish icing the cake for the party tonight.
"It's beautiful."
I felt bad when she jumped. "Sorry," I said through my teeth.
"It's okay," she chuckled. My heart fluttered when she smiled at me. "Ben."
I quickly wiped my clammy hands on my shorts as Y/N put down her piping bag, wiped her hands on a towel, and walked over to me. My breath got caught in my throat when she wrapped her arms around my neck. I quickly wrapped mine around her waist.
"It's so good to see you," she said, her voice sounding like beautiful music to me.
"It's good to see you, too, Y/N," I whispered. My voice dropped even more as I added, "I've missed you."
"I've missed you, too," she smiled as she let me go. The second her arms unwrapped from around me, I felt all my warmth go with her. I kept my arms around her waist for an extra beat. I had to force myself to let her go.
"The cake looks amazing," I said, glancing at the counter in hopes of continuing our conversation. "It's almost too beautiful to eat."
"It's just looks," she chuckled as she grabbed the piping bag. "One bite and you'll no longer care how beautiful it looks."
"You're not just looks," I said before I could stop myself. She looked up at me with the piping bag frozen in her hands.
"I wasn't talking about me, Ben," she chuckled, trying to get the awkwardness to go away. "I meant my bakes."
"I know," I whispered. We stared at each other for a few beats. Y/N was the first to look away.
"Who'd a thunk it would take a wedding in Australia to get you to come home," she paused before adding, "to me."
"I was. . ." I started to lie, but there was no point. Y/N always knew I was lying. "I was embarrassed to reach out to you."
"What?" Her whole demeanor sank. "Why would you be embarrassed to reach out to me? I'm. . . Me."
"I know," I said quickly, taking a small step closer to her. "But. . . I had such big plans in high school, and none of them worked out. But you? You went to culinary school, graduated at the top of your class, and opened your bakery just like you planned in high school. Compared to you. . ."
"It's not a comparison, Ben," she quickly cut me off. "I've always known I wanted to open my own bakery."
"And I still have no clue what I want to do," I slightly mumbled. I cleared my throat when I realized she had heard me.
"You could always come help me manage my bakery," she offered with a soft smile that I could never look away from. "All the business and finance stuff still confuses me."
"You want me to work for you?" I asked, not able to ignore the scenarios filling my head.
"I want you to work with me," she clarified. She sent me a wink before going back to decorating the cake. I followed her and stood slightly behind her.
"Ben," she said, her voice dripping with warning.
"What?" I asked, pretending to be innocent. "I'm just observing you. If I'm going to work with you, I had better understand how you do things."
"You already know how I do things," she giggled. I smiled when I noticed that even though she was talking to me, her focus was a hundred percent on the cake.
"I do," I nodded. I looked away as I poked her in the side.
"Hey!" She gasped, jumping away from me. I smirked when she sent me a glare. "Ben, I'm working. Keep your fingers to yourself."
"Alright," I said, lifting my hands up in defense. "I will keep them to myself. I promise."
She darkened her glare before turning her focus back to her cake. I watched as she carefully put her piping bag in the right place. Right as she was about to start piping, I poked her again.
"Ben!" She yelled. She glared at me before quickly checking the cake. "You made me smudge," she pouted when she realized I had made her mess up.
"I'm sorry," I said, matching her pout. I walked up and examined the mess up. "Let's see."
I heard her gasp when I used my finger to grab some of the frosting and put it on her nose.
"Hey," she gasped. I laughed when she squirted frosting onto her finger and wiped it on my face. I grabbed some sprinkles from the bowl on the counter and threw them at her.
"Ben," she giggled, "we're going to have to clean the kitchen now."
"You were gonna have to clean it anyway," I teased as I tossed another handful of sprinklers at her.
"Actually," she smirked, taking a step toward me, "if you work for me, then I should have you do it."
I gasped when she tossed a handful of sprinkles at me. This started a small food fight between the two of us. Eventually, we both had frosting smeared across our faces, sprinkles in our hair, and what wasn't on us was on the floor.
"Whoa! What's the matter with the two of you?"
We looked toward the hallway to see Pete leaning against the wall with a smirk on his face. His look made me lose my happy smile.
"You two better clean this up," he said, sending me a look I hope Y/N missed.
"My new employee will," Y/N teased me. She ran her fingers through her hair and cringed. "I'd better go wash this frosting out of my hair before the party tonight."
I couldn't help but watch her as she walked away. Once she was gone, my eyes landed on Pete.
"Shut up," I scoffed, before walking away.
* * * * *
Throughout the party that night, I constantly found Y/N. She spent the entire party refilling the dessert table and floating around the room, smiling at old friends. I couldn't take my eyes off her.
"You're pathetic."
I jumped at the sudden voice. I turned to see Pete walking toward me. He glanced behind me at Y/N before looking back at me.
"Pete. . ."
"Save it," he cut me off. "How can you sit back, obsessing over her, and yet do nothing?"
"She's my best friend," I sighed. "What if I tell her how I feel and she doesn't feel the same?"
"What if she does?" He shrugged like it was simple. "I'd hate to see you pass on a good thing because you were too scared to take the leap."
"I'm not scared," I said quickly and defensively. Pete shook his head and walked away. I let out a frustrated sigh, but he turned back toward me.
"Tell her," he said, his tone completely different, "before you really miss your chance."
I was frozen, staring at Y/N, long after Pete had walked away. I drank the rest of my beer and had to drink another before I had enough courage to go talk to her. When I did, she was restocking the cupcakes.
"Wanna dance?"
I cringed when my sudden appearance made her jump again. She was always a little on edge. No matter how many times I've asked, she's never given me a straight answer as to why she is so easily surprised.
"You gotta stop sneaking up on me," she giggled as she turned around. I didn't say anything as I grabbed her hand and pulled her onto the dance floor.
The second I pulled her into my chest, the feeling I've had since I realized I loved her hit me. As soon as I knew that I was in love with Y/N, I'd get this feeling whenever I was around her. It was this feeling of protection and care. Whenever I had my arms around her or simply sat next to her, I felt more aware of her. Everything I do, I do to make sure she's happy and safe.
It seems like my whole life revolves around her. When she went off to school, I constantly thought about her. I constantly wondered if she was thinking of me. I constantly wondered if she was safe.
"All I ever do is think about you," I whispered.
"You do?" She slightly stuttered.
"Of course, I think about you," I said like it was simple. "You're my best friend, Y/N. In fact. . ."
I couldn't get it out.
"In fact. . ." She said softly. "In fact, what?"
I didn't say anything as I grabbed her hand and led her out of the venue. She didn't object as I pulled her outside. She didn't speak up until we got to the small garden.
"Ben? What's going on? You're kind of scaring me."
"I'm sorry," I sighed, turning her toward me and grabbing her other hand. "But there's something I need to tell you. Something that I can't keep to myself any longer."
"Okay," she whispered, studying me. "What is it?"
And just like that, what little nerve I had disappeared. The way she was looking at me with a soft, concerned smile made the zoo in my stomach go crazy. I opened and closed my mouth, struggling to find the right words. My hesitation worried Y/N. I could see it on her face.
"Ben," she mumbled, "please just tell me. If something is wrong. . ."
"I love you," I blurted out.
"You. . ." She stuttered. I took a shaky breath, trying to gather my courage back.
"I've been in love with you since we were kids," I confessed. "And seeing you again. . ."
"Love or in love?" She asked when I paused.
"Is there a difference?"I chuckled as I pulled her a step closer to me.
"Well, yeah," she stuttered. "You can love your friends, but when you're in love with someone. . ."
"Your whole life revolves around them," I finished for her. I reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear, allowing my hand to linger. "All you ever do is think about them. All you ever want is to take care of them. All you care about is them."
"So you're. . ."
"In love with you," I clarified. I sighed as I continued, "I know I can't really take care of you."
"Wait, what?" She stuttered. "Why can't you take care of me?"
"I don't know what I want to do with my life," I scoffed. "How can I take care of the love of my life if I don't even know what I'm doing with my own life?"
Y/N quickly grabbed my face and whispered, "I don't need someone to take care of me financially. I need someone to take care of me mentally, physically, and lovingly. Think you can do that?"
I wrapped my arms around her waist and pulled her into my chest. I looked down at her and instantly saw the rest of our lives flash before my eyes. I leaned in and delicately pressed my lips to hers. The minute they touched, we both tightened our arms around each other.
After a few minutes, we finally broke the kiss. I leaned my forehead against hers and focused on the feeling of Y/N in my arms.
A mayor (& president) from a local city where Max & Starla lives. While he not be the greatest figure, he will do his very best to keep his city in check and show dignity and compassion toward his people in Omnia.
After college, I decided to return home. Even though I graduated and got a degree in marketing, I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. For the last few weeks, I've helped my mom at her flower shop.
I was walking back from a delivery down the road when a truck I was all too familiar with drove up and slowed down so it was going in sync with me. I didn't bother looking. I knew who it was.
"Well, if it isn't my favorite flower girl."
"Well," I sighed, "if it isn't my least favorite adrenaline junkie."
"How many times have I told you, Y/N?" Tyler chuckled. "I'm not an adrenaline junkie."
"You chase storms," I said slowly, so he would get it.
"Not for the adrenaline rush," he corrected. "Sure, it's extremely fun chasing after a storm, following them as they quickly change direction, rushing in at the last minute to. . ."
"Sounds like an adrenaline junkie to me," I scoffed. "Last I checked," I said loud enough for him to hear as he continued to follow me in his truck, "there weren't any storms nearby, Tyler."
"There aren't," he shrugged. "I was just driving to see my parents when I recognized you, Flower Girl. Can I ask you a question?"
"Sure," I sighed, not bothering to stop walking.
"Why are you walking?"
"I had a delivery," I said shortly.
"And you're walking?" He asked.
"The address was just down the road," I shrugged.
"You could've driven," he hesitated.
"Walking is good for you, Owens," I said, sending him a smirk. "You should try it sometime."
I hated the look on his face. He stared at me as he put his truck in park. I stopped walking and turned toward him.
"Damn it," I mumbled under my breath as he got out and walked to the sidewalk.
"Let's do it," he smiled. I didn't smile back or start walking. Before he could ask what was going on, I cut him off.
"Why are you like this?"
"What do you mean?" He chuckled. Even though he was laughing, I could see a little bit of curiosity in his eyes.
"You really see no problems with running after storms, putting your life on the line, for a video?"
"It's not just for a video," he stuttered.
"I know. I know," I dismissed. "It's for research." I purposely changed my tone when I said 'research'.
"It is," he stuttered again.
"Yeah, well," I scoffed, "have fun dying for something that you can't change or stop."
With that, I turned on my heel and walked off. To my surprise, he didn't follow me.
* * * * *
A few days later, I was putting together a few orders when I noticed a certain red truck parked outside.
"Here we go," I mumbled under my breath.
"What?" My boss, Maria, asked.
"Nothing," I quickly stuttered. Maria looked at me before glancing toward the front door.
"Oh," she elongated, "Tyler Owens. You went to school with him, right?"
"I did," I said, slightly clearing my throat. I tried to ignore the look she sent me.
"He's coming in," she said, her voice sounding oddly suspicious. "I'm going to go check the stock."
"Wait," I gasped as she turned to leave, "please don't. . . And she's gone."
I groaned when the little bell above the door rang. I cleared my throat and looked up at the customer I knew I had.
"Hi, Tyler," I sighed.
"Icy," he teased as he walked in. "Is that how you greet all your customers?"
"Only the special few," I mumbled.
"Special?" He smirked. "You think I'm special."
"Not in the way you're thinking," I scoffed. "You're the kind of customers that I have to use a special amount of patience to deal with." I cleared my throat before asking, "Are you here to buy flowers or just annoy me?"
"Can't I do both?" He smirked. His smirk fell when I didn't react to his answer. "Look," he sighed, slightly lowering his voice, "I hope you know that I don't mean anything by all my teasing."
"Then why do it?" I asked, my voice lowering to match his.
"I don't really know," he said with a soft chuckle. "It seems like whenever I'm around you, that side comes out."
"I'm honored," I scoffed, my voice going back to normal. I turned on my heel and busied myself with rearranging a floral arrangement I finished this morning.
"Y/N. . ." He started, but I cut him off.
"Are you going to buy something or not?" I asked, turning around and crossing my arms over my chest.
"You really don't like me, do you?"
"You really don't remember, do you?" I mocked him.
"Remember. . ." He hesitated. He smirked as he continued, "What? Did we get drunk and. . ."
"No," I cut him off again. "My brother."
As soon as I said that, his smirk fell. "Your brother. . ."
"He was just like you," I said, looking away and getting lost in thought. "He and his stupid group of friends would run off during storm season, chasing every little storm. They didn't care how risky it was. They'd get as close as they possibly could; all for the rush. And it was all fun and games until. . ."
"His senior year," Tyler finished for me.
"They got too close," I whispered, my voice breaking. "Their version of a chasing truck was thrown. Half of his team was killed. And my brother. . ."
"He's in a wheelchair," he whispered.
"Paralyzed from the waist down," I said through a clenched jaw.
"Y/N. . ."
"You know all of that," I scoffed, coming out of my memories, "and you still won't leave me the hell alone."
I started to walk away, but he grabbed my arm. He kept it in his hand as he whispered, "I never meant to bring anything up. And I am so sorry that I've done that. Please don't take this the wrong way, but I'm not like your brother. My team and I are always safe. We never get too close. We are always. . ."
"Stop," I said, ripping my arm out of his hold.
I walked away, not caring that I was leaving him alone in the shop. I went to the back room and leaned against the door. I closed my eyes and struggled to catch my breath. It's been a while since I've talked about my brother.
When I finally walked back out, Tyler was gone. I hated that a small part of me was disappointed. As soon as that part revealed itself, I pushed it down.
I wasn't myself the rest of the day. I must've shown it on my face because Maria didn't ask how it went or bring Tyler Owens up.
Before going home for the day, I decided to walk down the street to a café. After ordering and receiving a latte, I slowly started walking back to the floral shop. I purposefully took the long way back.
I instantly regretted that decision when the red truck pulled up next to me.
"You really like walking, don't you?" Tyler teased.
"You really like annoying the hell out of me, don't you?" I said without looking toward him.
Tyler's friend - I think his name was Boone - said something to him, briefly distracting him. I couldn't quite hear him, but it sounded like, "Tyler, a storm is. . ."
I picked up my pace when I realized they were probably late for a storm because Tyler was talking to me. When Tyler turned back toward me, I saw something in his eyes that looked like fear.
"Y/N, you need to get back to work."
"On my way there now, Owens," I sighed. I stopped walking when Tyler threw his truck in park and jogged over to me.
"Get in the truck, Y/N," he said a little more forcefully.
"Hell no," I scoffed. I walked around him, but he didn't let me get away.
"Tyler," Boone called, "we should really go."
"The storm is getting close, Tyler," his other team member, Dani, added.
"Y/N, please," he said, his tone of voice completely changing. He slid his hand down my arm until he got to my hand. I sucked in a breath when he grabbed my other hand and intertwined our fingers. "There is a bad storm heading right our way. We need to get off the street and to a storm cellar."
"Then, go," I stuttered, taken aback by his worry.
"I am not leaving you on the street, alone," he said firmly. "Please get in my truck, Y/N. I need to get you off the street. I need to get you somewhere safe."
I looked into his eyes and saw that he was genuinely worried about me.
"Please, Y/N," he tried to beg me again. "Come with me."
"Okay," I whispered.
As soon as I said that one word, Tyler let out the breath he was holding. He let go of only one of my hands and used the other to pull me toward his truck. Boone climbed into the back as Tyler opened the front passenger door for me.
Once I was safely inside the truck, Tyler shut the door and jogged around to the driver's side. I gasped when Tyler quickly turned the truck around.
"Where are we. . ." I stuttered. "Tyler, the flower shop is the other way."
"I'm not taking you back to work, Y/N," he said, quickly glancing at me.
"Where are you taking me?" I asked, dropping my voice.
"I don't know," he stuttered. My heart dropped into my stomach when I heard how scared he almost sounded. He looked at me, and his expression told me exactly how scared he truly was. "What I do know is that we have to get out of the storm's path."
"Out of its path? You guys chase these storms all the time. Why would you be running away from it?"
"Usually, we're prepared," Boone explained.
"Plus, you're here," Tyler said under his breath. He glanced back at me, something different in his eyes. This thing I couldn't name. "And I can't risk anything happening to you, Y/N."
* * * * *
My eyes scanned the small farmhouse as Tyler pulled in front of the barn, which he said they used as a base. As soon as he put the truck in park, his team jumped out. While they gathered their equipment and went inside the barn, I slowly got out of the truck.
"I can take you back into town once we're sure the tornado has passed," Tyler said as he walked over to me. I didn't look at him as he walked up and stood next to me. "If you trust me enough. . . Do you?"
"Trust you enough to take me home?" I asked, still not glancing at him.
"I want you to," he mumbled under his breath.
"What?" I stuttered, looking over at him.
"I want you to trust me, Y/N," he said, louder and more confident this time.
The way he was looking at me made my heart jump into my throat. This feeling hit me hard, and I didn't like it. I quickly looked away from him and cleared my throat, trying to get rid of the frog that had suddenly formed.
"You okay?" He asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
"Why didn't you chase the storm today?" I asked.
"I already told you," he stuttered. "We weren't prepared and. . ."
"Boone said that you weren't prepared," I clarified as I turned toward him. "You said that I was there and you couldn't risk anything happening to me. What did you mean by that?"
"Pretty straightforward," he awkwardly chuckled.
"Tyler," I said firmly. "Did you only say that because of what happened to my brother?"
"No," he said quickly. "Why would I. . ."
"Did you only say that because you didn't want the same thing that happened to my brother happen to me? And you couldn't handle being responsible?" I asked, cutting him off.
"Your brother is not the reason that I can't risk anything happening to you."
"Then why do you care?"
A tension instantly fell between us as we stared at one another. It thickened when Tyler slowly took a step toward me.
"I care," he slowly whispered, "because I care about you, Y/N. I've always cared about you."
"We barely know each other," I stuttered.
"We grew up together," Tyler chuckled, the tension slightly lightening. "We went to school together until we graduated. We went to all the same neighborhood parties, farmer's markets, and rodeos. I rode bulls, and you took pictures for the local paper. We constantly ran into each other, Y/N."
"That doesn't mean. . ." I stuttered, but couldn't find the end of my sentence. My breath got stuck in my throat when he took a step closer to me.
"Why won't you let me in?" He asked, his voice soft.
"I don't need you to protect me, Owens," I tried to brush off. "I've been on my own since before I graduated college. I can take care of myself."
"I know you can," he said, taking another step closer to me. "Doesn't mean I have to let you."
He leaned down and delicately pressed his lips to mine. When I started to kiss him back, he reached forward and grabbed my waist. I slowly wrapped my arms around his neck. We got lost in the kiss until a loud noise came from the barn.
I looked away, my face on fire. Tyler grabbed my chin and made me look back at him.
"I can take you home," he whispered, "if you don't want to be here."
"I didn't say that," I stuttered, getting lost in his eyes. "I just. . . I'm not used to accepting help."
Tyler chuckled as he reached up and gently grabbed my face with both hands. He looked into my eyes for a moment before saying, "Don't I know it?"
I caught his smirk right before he leaned in and pressed his lips back to mine. Our lips moved in sync before Tyler broke it. When he did, he leaned his forehead against mine.
"I want you to trust me enough to allow me to help you, Y/N," he whispered.
"It's not gonna be easy," I whispered, slightly leaning back and looking into his eyes.
"That's okay," he nodded. "I know it's going to take time before you fully allow me to help you. And I'm okay with that. Take all the time you need."
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Kevin Warsh sworn in as new Fed chair at White House, replacing Powell
Washington — Kevin Warsh was sworn in as the chairman of the Federal Reserve on Friday, taking the reins of the central bank from Jerome Powell after a ceremony at the White House.
“With this oath, I’ve accepted a high and solemn responsibility,” Warsh said.
“Our mandate at the Fed is to promote price stability and maximum employment,” he said. “When we pursue those aims with wisdom and clarity,…
Glen and I have been dating for two months, but we've worked together on and off for our entire careers. His first movie was my first movie. Every few years, we ended up seeing each other again. I wasn't working with him when I found out about my heart issues.
I was filming an intense action movie when I randomly had a stroke. After several days in the hospital and lots of tests, the doctors diagnosed me with Coronary Artery Disease. Basically, my arteries were narrow and reduced my blood flow. My first stroke was after a small blockage that was bigger than it would've been without my arteries being narrow.
After that first scare, I had to cut down on my action scenes. For the next year, I didn't have a big role. I did small guest-starring roles, enough to keep me in the public's eyes but not enough to stress out my heart.
Surprisingly, we were able to control my heart issues until Glen and I were working on an undercover spy movie for Netflix.
Glen and I started dating after we filmed the intimate scene between our characters. Stuck in my head after that scene, I quickly left set. Glen came to my hotel room later that night to talk about things. We ended up doing everything our characters did in the scene, but for real.
The next morning, I woke up to Glen gently guiding his fingers up and down my bare back. We laid in bed for hours, talking about us and our relationship.
When our fans found out about us, most of them were pretty excited for us. Lots of them have wanted us together for years. Even though we finally started dating, I didn't tell him about my heart until I had no choice.
And that choice went away a week after we started dating, when we were filming a few training scenes back-to-back. We were in the middle of the last scene when I had a mini-stroke. I passed out mid-scene and ended up waking up in the hospital a few hours later. When I woke up, I turned to see Glen half asleep in the chair next to me.
Ever since I told Glen about my Coronary Artery disease, he's been extra protective. Netflix gave us a week off so I could recuperate after my mini-stroke. That whole week, Glen never left my side the entire time I was in the hospital.
Once I was strong enough and the doctors cleared me, Glen took me back to my hotel room and stayed with me there, too. I mean it when I say he never left my side. He wouldn't let me get out of bed without jumping to help me. The doctor gave me a strict diet to stick to during my recovery, and Glen took it very seriously.
When we eventually went back to work, his protectiveness got even more intense. He was constantly checking to make sure I was feeling okay. As soon as the scene was over, he'd snap out of character, quickly turn toward me, and ask if I was okay.
Today was no different.
"Are you alright?" He asked, gently grabbing my hands. I laughed as I pulled my hands out of his and placed them on his chest.
"I'm fine," I whispered, as I stood up and gently pressed my lips to his.
"You'd tell me if you weren't feeling okay, right?" He checked when we broke the kiss.
"Of course, baby," I soothed. I kissed his cheek before walking off set.
"He's not getting any better," Alicia, our makeup girl, chuckled as I walked over to her.
"If anything, he's getting worse," I mumbled.
"That's just because he cares about you," she said instantly. "You're not just his best friend anymore, Y/N. You're his girl now. And Glen Powell protects the people in his life."
"I know that," I sighed. "And I adore that about him. I mean. . . I've always wanted him to care about me as more than friends."
"Then what's wrong?" She asked, with a slightly knowing look in her eyes.
"I don't know," I said honestly. "I just. . . I don't want him to worry about me. What if he stops taking care of himself to take care of me?"
"Honey," she chuckled, "that's kind of his love language."
That night, Glen brought dinner to my hotel room. We sat at the little table and kept small conversation.
"You okay?" Glen asked once we had finished eating. "You've been kind of quiet tonight." I filled with guilt when he quickly sat up straighter. "Are you feeling okay?"
"I'm fine, baby," I soothed.
"Then what's wrong?"
"I just. . ." I hesitated. "You worry about me."
"And that's a bad thing?" Glen chuckled as he reached across the table and grabbed my hands.
"What if you get so distracted worrying about me while filming that you get hurt?" I started to nervously ramble. "What if something happens? What if, during a stunt, you're distracted by me, and you end up getting hurt? It would be my fault. I could never live with myself if. . ."
"Y/N," he gently cut me off. "Baby, breathe."
"I can't let you get hurt, worrying about me," I whimpered. Glen stood up, grabbed my hand, and led us over to the couch. He sat down, pulling me with him.
The second we were sitting, he pulled me into his chest. I relaxed into him, bringing my feet onto the couch.
"My job is to worry about you, baby," he soothed.
"But. . ."
"Y/N," he cut me off. He reached up and ran his fingers through my hair. "Darling, you need to keep your heart rate down."
"I know," I sighed, closing my eyes and focusing on how it felt to be in his arms.
"I would never risk my life," he whispered. "Especially when me getting hurt would stress out your heart. But you are going to have to accept that I will never put my life ahead of yours, darling."
My heart jumped into my throat when he tightened his arms around me and added, "Never."
Little did I know that it wasn't his life we needed to worry about.
It was mine.
* * * * *
A month later, things started to change. I started getting more tired, and my dizzy spells became more regular. I found myself needing to take more breaks. It got a lot worse the day I just happened to be filming without Glen.
One minute, I was fighting Brett, one of our stunt guys. Next, I collapsed. Pain was shooting up my arm, making my whole body tingle. The only part that wasn't tingling was my chest. There was a sharp pain that I couldn't describe.
"Call 911!" I heard someone yell.
"Glen," I mumbled.
"Hold on, Y/N," my manager, Louisa, said.
"Glen," I tried again.
"I know. I know," she soothed. "I'll call him as soon as we get you to the hospital."
"No," I stuttered as I tried to sit up.
"Don't move," our set medic said as he quickly made me lie back down.
People hustled about until the ambulance got there. I passed out as the ambulance pulled away from set. I woke up almost 18 hours later to a sharp pain in my chest.
"Y/N?"
I slowly turned my head to see Glen in the chair next to the hospital bed. He sat up straighter and grabbed my hand when he saw my eyes.
"Hey, baby," he whispered.
"Glen," I tried to say, but my voice was nonexistent.
"I'm right here, darling," he said, scooting closer to my bed. "How are you feeling?"
"I can't. . ." I struggle to speak. Glen noticed and gently shushed me.
"It's okay," he soothed. "Take your time, gorgeous."
"What. . . What happened?" I asked, my voice soft.
"You had a heart attack, my darling."
"What?" I gasped. I started to sit up, but Glen instantly lay me back down. "No. . . I wasn't. . . I thought. . ."
"Try and relax, baby," he tried to soothe. "You need to stay lying down. You had surgery."
"Surgery?" I asked, my voice breaking. My eyes filled with tears as I shakily reached up and touched the gauze over my chest. "How. . . How bad. . . What kind?"
"Open heart surgery," he said gently.
"No. . ." I closed my eyes, the tears slowly starting to stream down my face.
Glen quickly stood up, laid next to me, and wrapped me in his arms. I turned to him and sobbed. He reached up and ran his fingers through my hair.
"It's alright, darling," he whispered. "The doctor says that you are going to be fine. We just need to be careful the next couple of months."
"But. . ." I stuttered, slightly pulling out of his arms. "But our movie. . ."
"Don't think about that now," he shook his head, gently reaching up and cupping my face in his hand. "Let's focus on you resting."
"Looks like you need it, too," I whispered, reaching up and gently stroking his face. I dropped my hand and tucked into his chest. I felt him softly chuckle as he wrapped his arms around me.
"I do need it," he nodded. "Now that I know you're alright, I can finally get some."
* * * * *
"Knock. Knock."
We looked over and smiled as Glen's parents walked in.
"Mom," he chuckled, "you don't have to say it if you do it."
"I don't care," she said with a smile on her face. "How's my girl doing?"
"Your girl?" Glen asked as he stood up and walked over to them.
"If she's yours, she can be mine too," his mother said as she gently patted his shoulder and walked past him.
She instantly sat on the edge of my bed and wrapped me in her arms. "How are you feeling, sweetheart?" She asked softly with her arms tightly wrapped around me.
"I'm okay," I said, my voice mirroring how weak I felt. I closed my eyes and took a shaky breath. Cyndy must have heard it because she tightened her arms around me.
"You're okay," she whispered as she slightly rocked me side to side. "You're okay, sweetheart."
As Cyndy held me, I heard Glen walk over and greet his dad.
"And how are you doing?" Glen Sr. softly asked his son, lowering his voice.
"I keep replaying when Louisa called me and told me to get to the hospital," Glen whispered.
"She's okay," Glen Sr. whispered back. "She's right there, in your mother's arms. Focus on that."
When I opened my eyes, I saw Glen and Glen Sr. staring at Cyndy and me. We continued staring at each other as Glen walked over to my hospital bed. Cyndy got out of bed, allowing her son to take her place. Which he did. The minute he sat on the bed, I tucked into his side.
"So," Cyndy said, slightly clearing her throat, "anything we can get you two? Have you eaten? We can run out, get some dinner, and bring it back."
"Cyndy," Glen Sr. said softly, "we should let them rest."
"They need to eat," she said, looking at her son and me.
"I know," Glen Sr. nodded, "but we shouldn't pressure them. She needs some rest."
I didn't miss how he slightly changed his earlier statement.
"We can at least get them something to eat," Cyndy shrugged.
"Mom, there are specific things she shouldn't be eating right now," Glen quickly jumped in.
"I could actually go for a smoothie," I said softly.
"We can do that," Cyndy said, instantly happy at the idea of helping me. "Send us a list of ingredients you like and don't like. We will find you a smoothie that you like and has good ingredients for your heart."
One of the reasons I loved Glen's mom: she wanted to feel useful and helpful whenever she came around. Whether it was helping with dinner, hanging pictures, or even watering plants, she never hesitated to lend a hand.
I chuckled softly as she jogged over to me and kissed my forehead before leading her husband out of my hospital room.
"I'm sorry," Glen sighed as he relaxed into the bed.
"It's okay," I chuckled, turning more toward him. I gasped when I turned too much, and pain shot up my chest. Glen instantly sat up and helped me roll back onto my back. As I lay there, struggling to catch my breath, Glen rubbed my arms and whispered to me.
"Just breathe, baby," he whispered. It took me a while before I could finally relax. Once I did, Glen turned all the way toward me. I only turned my head toward him.
"I love that your parents flew all the way here to check on me," I whispered. "It's been a while since I've had a Mother's Worry in my life."
Glen tightened his arms around me as he leaned down and kissed the top of my head.
"I love that they flew all the way here to check on you, too," he whispered. "To be fair, my mom's worry often comes across a bit. . . Forced."
"That's okay," I giggled weakly. I closed my eyes before adding, "She means well."
"Yes, she does," he whispered.
I woke up an hour later. I looked over to see Glen talking to his parents in hushed voices. When he noticed I was awake, he grabbed a smoothie off the table and jogged toward me.
"Hey, gorgeous," he whispered. "How are you feeling?"
"Same as before," I shrugged. I started to sit up, but Glen jumped to help me. I smiled at him as he pushed the button on the bed remote and slowly raised my bed.
Once I was more in a sitting position, Glen gently handed me the smoothie. I wrapped my hand around his and pulled him closer. He laughed as I brought my lips to his. He instantly started kissing me back, putting his hand I wasn't holding on the back of my neck.
Glen broke the kiss and pressed his forehead to mine. I giggled when he slightly rubbed his nose against mine. "You should drink your smoothie, baby," he whispered. He slowly leaned back and handed me the smoothie again.
As I drank the smoothie Glen's parents got me, we talked about little things: Glen's niece and nephew, the new farmhand Glen's father hired, and Glen's recent training for his upcoming movie. What we didn't talk about was Glen and my movie, or when I would return to work.
"Leslie's friends finally scheduled her bachelorette party," Cyndy giggled. "Apparently, the weekend before the wedding, the girls are gonna rent a cabin in the mountains."
That's when it dawned on me.
"The wedding," I said under my breath. I looked over at Glen, tears already in my eyes. The look on his face told me that it had dawned on him, too.
"What's wrong?" Glen's mom asked, looking between the two of us. Glen sighed as he reached over and grabbed my hand.
"Y/N isn't going to be strong enough to fly in two weeks," Glen explained for me.
"Which means you can't fly in for Leslie's wedding," his mom nodded, catching on.
"I'm so sorry," I whispered, looking down at our intertwined hands.
"Oh, honey," his mom sighed. She walked over to the other side of my hospital bed and sat on the edge of it. She used her finger to lift my chin. "It's okay, sweetie," she said sweetly. "We're more worried about you and your heart. We'd hate to put you on a plane when you're at risk."
I glanced over at Glen to see him smiling at me in a similar way his mother was.
"It was supposed to be my big introduction to your family," I said, my voice dropping to a whisper.
"There will be plenty of other chances to introduce you to my family, my darling," he chuckled lightly. Suddenly, the look on his face dropped. He sighed before turning toward his parents. "I can't leave her here."
"What?" I gasped. "Glen. . . What are you saying?"
He turned toward me with a soft look in his eyes. "Y/N," he tried, but I shook my head and cut him off.
"No," I said firmly.
"Baby, I'd be gone for a week," he sighed. "I can't possibly leave you here alone."
"I wouldn't be alone," I said quickly. "Louisa would stay with me. Plus, it's not like you're going somewhere crazy. You're just going home. We can reach out to each other. You can text me throughout the day and call me at night."
"Y/N," he whispered, grabbing my hand, "I can't leave you."
"And I can't be the reason you're not at your little sister's wedding, Glen."
* * * * *
By the time the wedding came around, I was strong enough to stand up. Every day, a hospital physical therapist would take me down to their PT room. I'd walk along the path with Glen right by my side and a nurse with a wheelchair behind us. Every once in a while, we'd go outside to walk in the hospital gardens.
I may have been strong enough to walk around the gardens, but it would still be dangerous for me to fly. It took a lot more convincing before Glen agreed to go to his sister's wedding. Even though he agreed to go, he didn't leave as soon as we had originally planned.
Before my heart attack, Glen and I were going to go to Texas the Sunday before the wedding. After my heart attack, Glen changed his flight to three days later.
As Glen packed and repacked his suitcase for the wedding, he kept debating about changing his flight again.
"I hate this," he mumbled with his back to me. I held my breath and slowly stood up. "I hate the idea of leaving you."
"I know," I said, still out of breath from standing up. My voice made him quickly turn around. He dropped his tie, not caring if it landed in his suitcase or on the floor, and ran to me. He gently put his hands on my hips.
"I hate leaving you," he whispered as he leaned his forehead against mine.
"I can't be the reason you miss Leslie's wedding," I whispered back.
He leaned back and looked me in the eye. He reached up and gently cupped my face in his hand. He leaned in and delicately pressed his lips to mine. I let out a small whimper as I kissed him back.
The second we broke the kiss, I threw my arms around him. I whimpered again when he wrapped his arms tightly around mine. I didn't want to let go of him. I closed my eyes and focused on how tightly he was hugging me.
"I will call you every night," he whispered. "You will always be able to reach me. If I can't answer your call, I will immediately text you. I promise."
"I know," I whispered, tightening my arms around him.
"I don't want to let you go," he lightly chuckled as he tightened his arms.
"I don't want you to," I whispered. I finally broke our embrace."But you need to. You have to be there for Leslie."
Glen sighed as he reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear. His hands lingered as he sighed, "I know. But I wish you were strong enough to go with me. Or the wedding was later."
I nodded as I looked down. He used his finger to lift my chin.
"I will miss you," he whispered.
"I'll miss you, too."
* * * * *
I couldn't do it.
I couldn't handle being back in LA while Glen was with his family. So, I came up with a plan.
I was released from the hospital two days after Glen left and one day before the wedding. Without telling him, I got a plane ticket. The only way Louisa would let me do this was if I got a Coach ticket.
I landed at the airport and texted Glen's other sister, Lauren. When I decided to surprise Glen, I decided to tell his mom and sisters. I knew I'd need their help setting things up, and they were eager to do it. After changing at the Powells' house, I took an Uber to the wedding venue.
I texted Lauren to let her know I was here. She immediately texted me where they were. I walked around the venue and found the family taking pictures. My heart jumped into my throat when I saw Glen talking to his sister.
"Leslie," Glen sighed, "we already took about three hundred pictures. Why do we need to take more?"
"Just one," Leslie said, struggling to hold back her smile. She stopped trying to hide it when she looked over Glen's shoulder. Without saying anything, Leslie pointed behind her brother.
"Leslie, why are you. . ." He instantly stopped talking when she grabbed his shoulders and turned him toward me. "Y/N!"
I laughed as he started sprinting toward me. The second he got to me, he threw his arms around me. He pulled me into his chest, leaned down, and smashed his lips to mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and messily kissed him back. We heard his family chuckle before walking away.
Once they were gone, we finally broke the kiss. Both of us were breathing heavily as we stayed in each other's arms.
"I can't believe you're here," he whispered. "What are you. . . When did you. . ."
"The doctors released me two days after you left," I explained. I reached up and held his face as I continued to explain. "I couldn't handle being away from you, so I flew out here."
"Was it safe?" He asked, studying my eyes. "I mean. . . Flying is dangerous for someone who. . ."
"I'm okay," I whispered, holding his face. "I'm just happy to see you."
I giggled when Glen pressed his lips to mine. He broke the kiss and grabbed my hand, pulling me toward his family. Glen and I spent the night walking around and talking to his family members. Whenever he introduced me to one, he had the biggest smile on his face and introduced me as his "girlfriend". It made my heart feel a bit stronger each time he said that.
By the end of the night, I was fighting exhaustion. I fought it because I didn't want Glen to end the night early. But he caught on. In the middle of the song we were dancing to, Glen led me off the dancefloor. We walked into the hallway outside the ballroom, and he led me over to a bench. We sat down, and Glen instantly wrapped his arms around me.
"I know you're exhausted," he whispered, "but I can't tell you how happy I am that you came."
"I don't regret it," I cuddled more into him. There was a pause, but it was tense. I leaned out of our hold and asked, "Everything okay?"
"Of course," he tried to brush off.
"Glen," I elongated his name.
"The past few days," he sighed, "I've been in my head a lot. I kept thinking about your heart attack. I kept thinking about the 'what if'. I kept going over what things would've been like if you hadn't. . ."
"Glen," I gently cut off his nervous rambling. He responded by sighing and turning toward me.
"All I can think about is what I would do if you hadn't survived," he whispered. "And my answer to that is nothing. I could literally do nothing if you didn't survive. My world would end if I lost you. You mean everything to me, Y/N."
"You didn't lose me, baby," I tried to reassure him. "I'm right here."
"You mean everything to me, Y/N," he repeated, slightly changing his enunciation. "You mean everything to me because. . . I love you."
I quickly grabbed his face and pressed my lips to his. Without caring about his family around the corner, Glen grabbed my waist and pulled me so I was straddling his lap.
We kissed for a little while before I broke it. I leaned my forehead against his as we caught our breath.
"I love you, too, Glen."
I leaned back and instantly saw the smile spread across his face. Without looking away from my eyes, he gently rubbed my hips that he was still holding.
"Surgery scar and all?" I teased. He tilted his head and pressed his lips to mine. I gently held his face as our lips moved in sync.
"I love you," he said, breaking the kiss, "surgery scar and all."
