The whirlwind of promotion, premieres, and high-stakes deal-making faded as Alex Hayes sought the familiar grounding of home for Christmas. On December 22nd, 1982, he bypassed the usual chaos of Houston Intercontinental Airport, opting for the discreet exit from the private terminal to avoid turning his arrival into an unwanted media circus.
Waiting for him just outside were his father, John Hayes, his stepmother Martha, and bundled in a car seat, his baby sister, Sofia. The Texas air felt different – crisp, clean, familiar. John offered a firm handshake and a quiet "Good to have you home, son." Martha enveloped him in a warm hug. But Alex's attention immediately went to the wide-eyed toddler. He gently lifted Sofia from her seat, her tiny hands instantly grabbing at his jacket. He kissed her chubby cheeks, inhaling that sweet baby scent, a wave of uncomplicated affection washing over him.
As they began the seventy-mile drive towards the family farm near Eagle Lake, Alex settled into the back seat, Sofia happily babbling on his lap as he carefully fed her a bottle. Up front, he couldn't help but notice the subtle glances passing between Martha and John. Martha would look pointedly at John, seemingly asking a silent question, and John would respond with a slight, almost imperceptible shake of his head. Something was clearly being left unsaid.
"Okay," Alex finally asked, gently wiping a dribble of milk from Sofia's chin, "what's going on between you two? You're communicating like spies up there."
Martha sighed, shooting John an exasperated look before turning in her seat to face Alex. "Well, dear, I was asking your father why he isn't asking you about your girlfriend. We were expecting Phoebe. You said about a month ago she'd be coming with you for Christmas."
Alex took a moment, his gaze dropping to Sofia's face before meeting Martha's questioning eyes. "Ah. Right. About that... Pheebs isn't coming. We, uh... decided to take some time apart. To think some things through."
Martha's expression softened slightly with concern. "Any problems between you two?"
Alex hesitated. "You could say that."
"What happened ?" John asked quietly from the driver's seat, his eyes briefly meeting Alex's in the rearview mirror.
Alex looked out the window, debating how much to share. He trusted his father and Martha, but the situation felt intensely personal, raw. Still, the question hung in the air. He let out a breath. "She said 'I love you'."
The car seemed unusually quiet for a moment. Martha and John exchanged another look, this one filled with understanding rather than tension, before turning back to Alex. He could see their confusion give way to comprehension.
"And..." Martha prompted gently.
"And I didn't say it back," Alex admitted, the words feeling heavy.
Realization dawned fully on his parents' faces. They knew Alex – knew his intensity, his occasional emotional guardedness, a likely legacy of his mother's passing and his father's disciplined upbringing. They also knew better than to pry further or offer easy advice. This wasn't about logistics or schedules; it was about feelings, something deeply personal between Alex and Phoebe.
For Alex, the memory of that night was still vivid, playing out behind his eyes as the Texas landscape blurred past. It was the night after the party celebrating 10 Things, after the Footloose meeting. Back at his apartment, the evening had culminated in an intense lovemaking session, arguably their best yet – a deep connection forged in physical intimacy. Afterwards, lying tangled together in the aftermath, Phoebe had whispered, simply, "I love you."
Alex had frozen. The words echoed in the quiet room, demanding a response he couldn't summon. He felt a confusing mix of affection, desire, and a sudden, inexplicable panic. He cared for Phoebe, deeply. He loved spending time with her, loved their chemistry, their laughter. But love? That specific, weighty declaration? He couldn't find the matching words within himself. His silence stretched, and Phoebe, seeing the confusion and uncertainty on his face, pulled back slightly. If the situation hadn't been so charged, his deer-in-headlights expression might have been laughable.
"Why?" she'd asked softly, her voice vulnerable. "Why can't you say it back?"
"Phoebe, I... I like you so much," he'd fumbled, trying to find the right words. "I love spending time with you. We're incredible together in bed. But... I'm just not there yet. I can't say those words and mean them the way you just did."
Phoebe looked at him, a dawning, painful understanding in her eyes. "But you've said 'love you' so many times before," she pointed out, though even as she said it, she knew the answer. It was the casual "love ya" tossed off to friends, the affectionate shorthand, not the profound declaration she had just made. Alex knew she understood the difference, so he didn't try to explain further.
"Do you think you can get there, Alex?" she'd asked, her voice barely a whisper. "In the near future? Is there even a possibility?"
He couldn't answer. How could anyone promise something like that? He saw tears shining in her eyes and instinctively reached for her.
But Phoebe recoiled, pulling away. "Don't. Don't touch me." Alex froze again, unsure what to do. She quickly slipped out of bed, dressed in silence, the energy between them now brittle and cold. "I need some time, Alex," she'd said, her voice thick with unshed tears. "To think." And then she'd left.
He'd spoken to her on the phone a few times over the past two weeks, initiating the calls, but her replies had been curt, distant. He wasn't sure where they stood, or what would happen next.
And as they continued the drive toward the familiar Hayes farm, Alex gazed out the window at the wide, open Texas landscape stretching away under the vast sky. He allowed himself a fleeting, fragile hope: maybe once he was back in Los Angeles after the holidays, maybe things with Phoebe would somehow smooth over, maybe everything would be alright. It was a comforting thought, though deep down, a voice he couldn't quite silence whispered that he didn't really believe it himself.
"Ba ba!"
Sofia's happy babble pulled Alex abruptly from the painful memory. She patted his cheek with her tiny hand, demanding attention. Alex smiled down at her, the knot of anxiety in his chest loosening just a fraction. He forgot Phoebe, forgot Hollywood, forgot everything for a moment, simply losing himself in playing with his baby sister, her innocent presence a temporary balm.