Rewind It Back (Windy City, #5)

by Liz Tomforde

My heart flutters like it used to before I remember everything that happened. Because I may have loved Rio DeLuca once, but I don’t anymore.

pick a song when something cool or important happens so I can remember it. Then when I want to relive a moment, I rewind it back and start the song from the beginning.”

She’s so goddamn beautiful. So hardheaded still. For a moment, I let myself remember how overwhelming it felt to be near her. She used to steal all my thoughts. She used to occupy my entire existence. I almost forgot what that felt like. I’ve spent six years subconsciously comparing every date to her. Comparing their laugh to hers. Their kindness to hers. Their confidence to hers. Their taste in music to hers.

That thing I’ve been looking for since I moved to Chicago? That connection? That one person some search their entire lives to find? I had already found her when I was twelve years old. At least, I thought I had. I know what I’m looking for because I had it once, and now the only girl I’ve ever loved is moving into the house next to mine. Again.

“The guy you were with tonight.” I slowly shift back to face her. “Who was he?” The set in her jaw is evident even from here. “Not your job to worry about.” Nodding, I turn back to my house, hands casually tucked in my pockets as I continue to walk. With my back to her, I make sure my words are loud enough for her to hear them. “Lose him.”

Sweat trickles from his forehead, rolling over those dark brown waves. You’d think his hair was black unless you’ve been close enough to run your fingers through it.

Dark hair. Olive undertone to his skin. Height that was genetically gifted and ridges of muscles that were hard-earned.

Instead, I stop him by asking, “What’s up with the ancient boombox?” He rears back playfully. “Watch yourself, Hart. I believe the term you’re looking for is classic.” I try not to let the smile tick up on my lips, but it finds its way there for a brief moment. “What’s up with the classic boombox?” He shrugs. “It still works. Why replace what’s not broken? And the guys can give me shit for it all they want, but I’m the only one on the team with good taste in music.” “You’re welcome for that.” He laughs, deep and full, and I feel it through every nerve in my body. It’s been a long time since I’ve heard that sound, and I missed it. “Bullshit,” he says through his laughter. “You’re welcome for your taste in music.” “What kind of delusional state are you living in, DeLuca?” Those dimples sink into his cheeks, that glimpse of my old Rio coming back to life. “There was a solid year when you only listened to boy bands. And when we were together, you wouldn’t let me listen to anything else either.” “Exactly! It’s called taste. Look it up.” “You once told me the wrong band’s name when we were listening to a mixtape you made me because you genuinely didn’t know the difference between them. They all sounded the exact same.” I laugh and it feels nice. Light and nostalgic. “God, how do you remember that? That was forever ago.” “Hard to forget the years you had shit taste in music, Hal. It’s been burned into my memory and not in a good way.” His attention drifts back to the locker r...

No one here knows I’ve been in love before. No one knows that though I had a front-row seat to watch them all find their person over the years, I had found mine long before any of them. At least, I thought I did.

“Are you cold?” I quickly shake my head. I don’t want him to tell me to go back to my room. “No. I’m fine.” He unzips his hoodie, slipping his arms out. I catch sight of the friendship bracelet I made tied around his wrist. He was trying to make one for me too, but he had a hard time figuring out the knots and only got a couple of inches finished. He holds out his hoodie for me to take.

“Well, maybe that was the first time you were told, but I know for a fact it wasn’t the first time someone liked you.”

“Hi. I’m Hallie Hart.” There’s this moment of déjà vu from the first time we ever met, when I was eleven and he was twelve, and he was just happy to have kids his age living next door. I can tell he feels it too when he’s staring at my hand with confusion, but then realization dawns and a knowing grin slides across his lips. “You don’t have to tell everyone your first and last name,” he says, the same way my brother did all those years ago. “I like it.” He slips his hand into mine and the electrifying slide of his palm against my own acts as a reminder that we haven’t intentionally touched in years. Nothing about it feels friendly or professional, especially when the pad of his thumb slides across my knuckle in a gentle stroke. “I like it too,” he says.

“Yeah, well you’re not his, so tell him to keep his hands to himself too.” Her eyes drop to my mouth. “I’m not yours either.” We’ll see.

“You sure look good in my shirt for not being mine.” “Get fucked, DeLuca.” I smile as I open the door. “Would love to. You just let me know when and where, Hart.”

We don’t talk for the entirety of the drive, but I note when her breathing turns slow and steady. The ride is lulling her to sleep, which isn’t surprising when I think about the hours she pulls on a daily basis. I think if I worked as hard as Hallie does, maybe even I’d be able to sleep. When I take our exit, I change my mind and get right back on the expressway. God knows I’m not going to get any sleep tonight anyway, so she may as well. I take note of the song that’s playing and keep on driving.

I recognize it instantly. It’s hard not to when I just heard it today. It’s the same song we listened to in my truck. Hallie rolls over, lying on her stomach so she can look down at me. “This was a last-minute addition,” she admits quietly. “And what happened that was so important when you heard it?” I already know the answer, but I want to hear her say it. She smiles down at me softly. “It was the first time I realized that you may feel the same way about me as I’ve always felt about you.” It may be her birthday, but I swear, with that single sentence, she just made all my wishes come true.

“You single, Hal?” I finally give him the long-awaited answer, nodding to tell him yes. “Good.” He takes a slow predatorial step towards me, tone sharp and leaving no room for question. “Because we aren’t fucking friends.”

Thanks for letting me keep you up last night. You should’ve seen the latte art today. It was my best one yet until I took a sip. Drive my truck while I’m gone, please. -R

“I wish you could see inside my head, Hal. You’d see the picture I’ve got painted of our future, and every part of it revolves around you, okay?” With his knuckle, he urges my chin up so I look at him. “It’s you and me. I promise.” I offer him a smile. “Okay.”

I never forgot him. I never forgot us. And apparently, neither did he.

“I love you, Hallie Hart. I am in love with you, though I hope that doesn’t come as a surprise. Because if so, I’ve been doing something wrong all these years.”

“I love you too.”

“I love that dress on you, baby.” “Thank you. It’s⁠—” “Take it off.”

“And those mistakes changed us in certain ways, but in others, we’ve remained the exact same. It wouldn’t be our story if we ignored all the bad parts, so I’m not going to. I’m not going to run away because where could I go? Hallie, you’re in here.” I tap my chest. “Regardless of the years we spent apart, you’re still in here.” She’s trying to hold back her smile, which seems like a good sign. “Are you sure that’s not just a first-love thing?” “No, baby. It’s a last-love thing.”

“The other night when I said I hoped that one day you’d let me fall in love with you again, what I meant to say was that I hope to earn the chance to fall in love with you again. And that’s not going to happen if I’m too busy regretting the past. So, yes. I made the biggest mistake of my life, and it’s probably going to take some time to fully forgive myself for it, but I don’t want to waste that time without you.” With both hands, I cup her jaw, sliding my fingers into her hair. “It’s always been you, Hallie, and I think we both know it.”

“Rio.” Her eyes bounce between mine. “You should know. It’s always been you too.”

There are a few tattoos, and I’d call all of them new because they’re new to me, but I couldn’t tell you what the others are. My attention is fixated on only one. “Hallie,” Rio says tentatively. “Say something.” I can’t. I’m speechless. Because how am I supposed to speak when my eyes are glued to what is essentially my last name, tattooed as a heart, inked over his actual heart? Hesitantly, I reach out, gently running my fingers over the black ink, following the curves and the dip until I stop to cover the overdrawn portion where it was supposed to stop, but never did. My heart. His heart, really, when I think about how many times he fixated on my signatures from the mixtapes and CDs I gave him. It’s my favorite part. “In case you’re still wondering if I ever forgot about you,” he says softly, “I got this three years ago. Three years after I saw you last.” “Why?” “I’m pretty sure you know the answer to that, Hal.” “Tell me anyway.” I can’t stop running my fingers over it, pausing at the same point where he used to stop. It’s an exact replica of my handwriting and everything, clearly taken from one of those tapes or CDs. “Because it’s always been us.” With his knuckle, he tilts my chin up so I look at him. “Even when I thought I didn’t want it to be, I knew it was us. I sat there getting this permanently inked onto my skin, trying to convince myself I was only getting it as a reminder that love existed when the whole fucking time, I knew it only existed with you.”

Smirk on his face and not wearing a shirt, showing off my tattoo. Mine. Only mine.

“Come here for a second.” Taking my arms, he guides them to wrap around his neck, his own going low around my waist as he holds us together. “I like this song,” he says. He begins to sway, dancing with me in his under-construction kitchen while we’re both barefoot and I’m only wearing his shirt. “What are you doing?” I ask. “Dancing with you.” “Why?” “Because I want to.”

“Hallie,” Rio whispers, still dancing slowly with me in his kitchen. “Are we doing this? You and me. Because I’m all in.” I laugh lightly. “I thought last night kind of answered that.” “I’d really like to hear you say it, to make sure I’m not assuming anything here.” He has this sweet, pleading look in his eyes as he waits for my confirmation. “You’re not assuming anything.” I pull him down to kiss me. “I’m all in too. It’s you and me.” Again is what I’m tempted to say, but for good feels more accurate.

“If I do get picked up by a team, will you go with me?” She lifts her head, whipping her attention in my direction to check if I’m being serious. “I know it’d mean you’d have to transfer schools next year, but I honestly can’t see myself playing in the league without you by my side. You’ve been there for every part of this. It’s only right that you’re with me for the next.” Her face softens with a sweet smile. “I want to start our lives now,” I continue. “I want to buy us a house. One that’s all ours. I want you to be at every one of my home games. And though I’m glad I get to see you once a month now, I spend all the days in between waiting for these ones. I don’t want to be away from you anymore.” “And if I’m not ready to go with you now?” “Then I’ll still buy you a house and it’ll be waiting for you.” I run my fingers through her hair. “And so will I.” “I’m kidding.” She leans up, pressing her lips to mine. “Of course I’ll go with you. I’d go anywhere with you.” “Yeah?” “We both know it’s going to be us in the end. What’s the point in wasting time?” “That’s exactly how I feel.” I watch the excitement grow in her expression. “What if you get picked up by Boston? How amazing would that be to play for your dream team right away?” “I can’t even let myself think about that. Obviously playing in the league is the goal, but playing for my hometown?” “It’ll happen one day,” she states. “I know it will.” I bask in her confidence in me. The same confidence she gave me tha...

“But you are, and sometimes I get nervous that because I’m part of your old life, I won’t fit into the new.” He’s quiet for a long moment before he says, “But you’re not just a part of my life. You’re the center of it. So, if something isn’t fitting around us, that piece needs to change, not you.” He runs his thumb over my knuckle. “And yes, I’m in a different phase of my career than the last time we were together, but you’ve been with me since the beginning of all of this. So, if anyone should feel out of place, it certainly isn’t you.”

“I assumed this was another one of our unspoken things.” He drapes an arm over my shoulders as we continue walking. “But in case it needs to be said out loud… Yes, Hallie Hart, you are my girlfriend. Though, you should know, there’s a good chance I’ll be changing both that title and that last name one day.”

Once the lighting lifts again, I watch as Rio drops his helmet and gloves off at the bench before slowly skating along the length of the rink closest to us, eyes up in our general direction. I note the moment he spots Zanders’ box, and more specifically, me, because his face lights up with a beaming smile in a way I feel possessive over. In a way I’ve only seen directed at me. Rio lifts his stick in the air, pointing it in my direction, then tucks it under his arm to form his hands into a heart. And I don’t miss the way he lets one thumb overlap past the other to create a little extra piece, not letting it connect where it should. Too many people sitting in the section below us turn over their shoulders to see who he’s pointing at. My cheeks are most likely flaming right now as I shake my head at him, but I also can’t fight the stupidly giddy smile on my lips. This man has no shame, acting like a love-sick idiot on the ice with twenty thousand fans watching him. But I’m a love-sick idiot too, so I somewhat discreetly make the same heart, our heart, with my hands for him to see. That smile on his lips only grows before he skates back to the bench, grabs his gloves and helmet, and refocuses on warming up. “That boy is so in love with you,” Indy states. Spoken or unspoken, I feel the exact same way.

It’s not like Hallie is asking me to choose between them. Shit, she doesn’t even know how bad it’s been between me and my mom lately. But if there ever comes a time that I need to choose which relationship to keep safe, I won’t make the same mistake twice. I’ll choose Hallie every time. I just hope my own mother doesn’t put me in that situation.

She’s going to need a place to live once Wren’s house next door sells. I need somewhere to stay when I come to visit her and my friends, but my stomach sinks when I picture Hallie living here without me. Living here alone. That was never the plan for this house. We were supposed to live here together. Rooms were supposed to be filled. “Thank you for giving me the chance to do this,” she says quietly. “You basically let me design my dream home.” This is her dream home, and that’s the whole fucking point. I don’t know how she hasn’t put the pieces together yet, but that’s the final and most important reason why I won’t sell. Six years ago, even after things fell apart between us, I bought this house for her. It’s everything she told me she wanted, and there was a part of me that hoped if both it and I were here waiting for her, she’d somehow find her way home.

“Not exactly. I didn’t know what number to choose when I was a kid, so I picked the number of my favorite day, which was, of course, my birthday. August third. Eighty-three.” Realization finally dawns on me. I forgot that his old number was his birthdate. Which means his new number is… “When I got to training camp in Chicago, they asked me if I wanted to keep eighty-three, but I decided it was time to change it to my actual favorite day.” My birthday. March eighth. Thirty-eight. He’s been wearing my birthdate on his jersey for six years and I had no idea.

I lean my chin on my arm that’s resting on him, a painfully big smile on my mouth. “So, you like really like me, huh?” I tease quietly for only him to hear. “I think we both know it’s a little deeper than that, even if we’re still pretending it’s one of those unspoken things.” He turns to press a quick kiss to my lips. “And I have for fifteen years, Hal. You’ve had me hooked since the day you became the girl next door.”

“So, what is it you want to tell me?” I take a long sip of my drink. “I need to tell you what happened two weeks before you found out about everything.” She nods, and I can practically see her mentally preparing herself. “I’m listening. Tell me what you came here to say.” Taking a deep breath, I do exactly that.

His door is closed too, but when I reach to open it, another door opens instead. Over my shoulder, I watch his parents’ bedroom slowly creak open, but the woman who exits isn’t Mrs. DeLuca. “Mom?”

NO WAY. What the frek

She studies me from across the table. “You’ve always loved him, haven’t you?” “Always. He’s good and kind. And he’s good to me, which I know is because he grew up learning to be good to you.” She’s quiet for a long moment before she finally says, “I missed you, Hallie girl.” “I missed you too.” “Can I give you a hug?” My smile blooms in an instant. “I’d love that.” She stands the same time I do, rounding the table to hug me. “I’m so sorry,” she repeats, holding on to me. “I know. And I know you’re not my actual mom, but you always treated me as if you were. And I’m sorry that I hurt you.” She exhales a long breath, and I do the same. It feels like the final weight is lifted. We unwrap ourselves after a long while, but she holds me at arm’s length. “Do you have anywhere you need to be tonight?” “No. I only came here for you. My flight doesn’t leave until the morning.” “Would you stay for dinner? If you’re up for it, I mean. I’d really love to hear about your life.” “Yeah.” I can’t hold back my smile. “I’d love that.”

“You’re good down to your core, Hal. You know that?” “So are you, baby.” She wraps her arms over my shoulders.

“It’s almost midnight,” I remind her, sliding it open. She looks at me over her shoulder. “Are you trying to say it’s almost my birthday?” “Meet me on the roof?”

“Does it feel strange to be back here?” I ask her gently. She shakes her head. “It feels good. A little sad because I miss that time in my life, but these nights were always my favorite memories.” “Want to make another one?” With my hand that’s not holding the blanket, I offer to help her sit, but when she slips her hand into mine, she takes a step closer to me, staying on her feet. Looking up, her eyes bounce between mine before she exhales the words as if desperately needing to get them off her chest. “I told your mom that I love you.” I can’t help the smile that slowly slides across my lips, or the way the skin around my eyes creases at the corners. Fuck, that feels good to hear. Of course, I already knew that Hallie loved me, but the words sound like music to my ears after not having the privilege of hearing them for six years. Like a form of music that I wish actually was a song, just so I could add it to our playlist. I slide my hand along her lower back, pulling her into me. “You don’t think you should’ve told me before you told my mom?” Hallie chuckles, picking up on the connection to the first time we said those words to each other, when I told Luke that I loved his sister before I told her. “I thought it was another one of those unspoken things.” Reaching up, she wraps her arms around my neck. “But it shouldn’t be. It should be said as much as possible. Because I love you, Rio. I have loved you since we were children, and I will love you until we’re old and...

With my legs spread wide, she sits between them, leaning back against my chest. I wrap the blanket around us, crossing my arms in front of her. Hallie sighs this content sound, and I fully understand that calm, that peacefulness. It feels like we’ve come full circle, sitting in the same place on the same date where I once sat with the girl next door on her thirteenth birthday. But there’s one thing that this birthday is missing. Digging into my pocket, I pull out my wireless earbuds, handing her one and putting the other in my own ear. “What’s this for?” she asks. On my phone, I tap on the music app and scroll to the playlist I’ve been putting together since October. “Every birthday, I used to love listening to you tell me about all your important moments from the year, so I was hoping on this birthday, I could tell you about mine.” She turns back to look at me. “Really?” With a nervous smile on my lips, I nod. “Yes. Please. I’d love that, Rio.” She drops her head back to rest on my shoulder. “I’d really love that.”

I press play on the first song on the playlist. As it starts filtering into the earbuds, she closes her eyes and listens. “What important thing happened with this song?” she asks. I rest my head against hers. “This is the song I was listening to in the locker room right before I went out to play the game where I saw you for the first time again.” She quickly turns, her eyes shooting to mine. Without letting the whole thing play through, I skip to the next song because I’m not going to be able to wait the entirety of this playlist to tell her what I need to say. She swallows hard. “And this one?” “This is the song I played in my house that first day you came over for a design meeting. It was the first time you ever stepped foot inside that house, actually.” Her brows crease as she begins to catch on to what’s happening. I skip to the next. “This is the song you fell asleep to in my car the first night I drove you home from work.” Her hazel eyes begin to gloss over, but then the next song plays, and she laughs, though it’s a bit watery. “Moana?” “The night you came over to help me babysit,” I explain. “The first night it felt like maybe we could be us again.” Next. “The song that was playing the night you asked me to keep driving. It was the night we kissed for the first time again.” Next. “This is the song you played over the speaker system in the house. It was the first time I heard you voluntarily play music for yourself again.” Her soft expression shifts, lifting ...

“Rio, playing for Boston is your childhood dream.” I shake my head. “You’re my childhood dream.”

“Some dreams have changed, but others have remained the same.” I brush her hair behind her ear. “I love the city we live in. I love my team. I love my friends. And I love you. We lost six years, Hallie, and I’m not missing another day of you again.”

“Playing for Chicago feels like I’m playing for my hometown because it is my home now. You’re my home. Being loved by you for the rest of my life is the only dream of mine that’s never wavered. There’s no doubt in my mind that I’m already exactly where I want to be.”

“I’m staying, baby. But I’ve got to say, if we ever do decide to move, we need to pick a warmer place to live if we’re going to keep sitting on the roof in fucking March. It’s freezing right now, and I know the roof of our home in Chicago is just as cold.” She laughs, her head falling back, until my words sink in, and her eyes cautiously make their way back to mine. “Our home?” “Our home.” Sliding my palms up her thighs, I pull her tighter against me. “I thought you would’ve realized it the first time you came over. Hallie, the irony of hiring you to design the house is that you’re the person I bought it for.”