Coming Back to You

Time is a concept that is so intricate, yet often deceiving. We find ourselves believing in the notion that time is infinite: a limitless stretch of days and years where we can do what we desire at our own leisure and pace. Yet, as the minutes, hours, and days pass us by we find ourselves thinking and even dwelling on the opportunities we missed out on, the people we pushed aside, and the goodbyes that we never said. We trick ourselves into believing that we have all the time in the world to make up for what we missed out on, when really they’re moments we’ll never be able to get back.

Time, truly, is as finite as the lifespan of a bee. Our days are numbered and there’s no telling how soon or how far from this very moment we’ll inhale our very last breath of air. Why, then, are we not capturing each opportunity we stumble across and spending every moment we can with those we adore and have grown close to?

These were the thoughts that Bailey mulled over as she walked the beaten grass path alongside the edge of the cornfields. Time was something that had suddenly become so precious in the last few weeks, she couldn’t help but question why it didn’t dawn on her until now that she had wasted so many months struggling through a mundane routine and putting everything and everyone so close and dear to her on the backburner. Being wasteful and frivolous with her time had gotten her nowhere, except stuck by a hospital bed next to her grandmother feeling incredibly guilty for not calling her as often as she should have.

Bailey felt like she had the whirlwind of chaos that surrounded the Los Angeles lifestyle to blame for that. At the age of eighteen, she thought that moving to California to attend UCLA would be the perfect path to self-discovery. Now, at twenty-three, she was well aware that while she was away soul-searching, she got swept up in the fast-paced, cutthroat lifestyle. Priorities were rearranged and her family had taken second-seat to both school and work. It wasn’t until the sudden announcement of her grandmother’s illness, however, that she realized that all the time she thought she had was suddenly fleeting at an alarming pace.

Bailey continued along the field, staring at the path ahead of her, and kicked an empty cornhusk. She mentally cursed herself for being so misguided and not returning to Clinton sooner. A single phone call was all it took for her to reevaluate her life and recognize that she wasn’t cut out for LA. Clinton, New York was where she belonged and the circumstances surrounded her ailing grandmother only reinforced that.

A sudden rumbling in the bushes ahead pulled Bailey out of her reverie, nearly scaring her half to death. She didn’t have much time to process what she heard before a black Labrador jumped out in front of her. Both the dog and Bailey stilled at the sight of one another for a few moments before the dog cautiously inched towards her.

Bailey held out her hand to the dog and once it realized she wasn’t a threat, it began licking her palm.

“Where’s your owner, buddy?” she muttered aloud, glancing around to see if there was anyone else along the path. A soft nudge underneath her hand brought her gaze back to the Lab and she let out a soft laugh when she realized that it was practically begging her to run her hands over its fur.

The dog looked so familiar, yet she couldn’t place where she had come across it before. It wasn’t until she looked at its collar that she realized she recognized the address that was listed for its owner. Shooter had been just a puppy when she last saw him and that put how long she had been awat from home into perspective.

“Let’s get you home,” she patted him on the head, before standing up straight and continuing down the path. Shooter followed behind her as she neared the short cut she had walked dozens of times throughout her adolescent and teenage years. As she neared the fence of the house ahead, Shooter sprinted in front of her and waited at the foot of the gate until she opened it for him.

Bailey proceeded up the stone walkway with Shooter by her side until she reached the door. A nervous wave of butterflies hit her stomach as she reached up and rang the doorbell. It had been so long since she had last been to the Hale residence, she had no idea what to expect.

Thirty-two seconds, according to her count, was the time it took before the door opened. She was suddenly face to face with a man she almost didn’t recognize, but the baby blue eyes and dirty blonde hair were a dead giveaway.

“Jax,” she whispered loud enough for him to hear.

The shock was evident in her voice and Bailey was at a loss for words as she took in his appearance. His build was bulkier and he had a hell of a lot more muscle than when she last saw him. His face was more defined and there was even a shadowy hint of scruff along his jawline. He looked so different, but in the best way possible.

She watched as his eyebrows briefly furrowed together in confusion, before an obvious look of recognition washed over him. Bailey didn't realize that he wasn't the only one who had grown up and physically changed quite a bit.

"Bailey?" he questioned, as his lips curved into a smile. Bailey had no idea why his voice had such an effect on her, but she began to blush at just the mere utterance of her name.

Her earlier thoughts of time returned as she stood before him and Bailey wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Five years had passed, yet one look at Jaxon Hale still made her weak in the knees. It was clear that she had missed out on so much and she wondered now more than ever why the hell she even left Clinton in the first place.