“Good to see you out and about. A lot of folks here were curious about you,” Dale said, his tone light. “Small town, you know how it is.”
Jack nodded, though he wasn’t sure he did. His world had never included friendly strangers or neighbors who cared to know his name. Back in Charleston, his life had revolved around grueling hospital shifts and endless board meetings. Charity events filled the remaining gaps—structured, prestigious, and always impersonal, where handshakes were formalities, not genuine connections.
He remembered walking through those halls, nodding at colleagues, exchanging pleasantries, but never really feeling seen. It had been efficient. Predictable. Lonely. And yet, here, in Seaview, people took the time to stop, to ask, to genuinely care. It was foreign. It was unsettling. And for reasons he couldn’t quite define, it was beginning to feel... necessary. His life had been hospital shifts, board meetings, and endless responsibility. And yet, here he was, chatting with a man who ran a bakery like they had known each other for years.
“Hey, Jack!”
That voice. He didn’t even have to turn to know it was Claire.
He glanced over his shoulder to find her walking toward him, her hair swept up in a loose ponytail, a light sundress swaying with each step. She fit here so effortlessly, like she belonged in every piece of this town. And somehow, in a way he couldn’t quite explain, she made him feel like he belonged too.
“You survived the crowds,” Claire teased, stopping beside him. “And you’re even talking to people. I’m impressed.”
Jack smirked. “Figured I’d try this whole ‘community’ thing.”
Claire grinned. “See? Not so bad, is it?”
Jack looked around once more, the warmth of the town settling around him. Maybe it wasn’t bad at all. A memory surfaced—one of many evenings spent in his office long after the sun had set, the city skyline stretching out before him as he sat behind his desk, drained and detached. There had been no background hum of laughter, no music spilling from a town square, no one calling his name with familiarity. Just silence.
The difference was stark, and for the first time, he wondered if he had mistaken solitude for success all these years. Maybe what he had been missing wasn’t just time away from work—but a life outside of it. But as that thought settled, so did something else—guilt.
Should it be this easy? Should he allow himself to savor this moment when Amanda had been denied so many? He pictured her smile, the quiet strength she carried through every hard day, and the aching finality of her absence.
The sweetness of the present pressed against the ache of what was lost, and for a heartbeat, he didn’t know which emotion would win. The past had been a constant anchor, keeping him tethered to grief, to responsibility, to a version of himself that existed only in survival mode. And yet, standing here, he felt the weight shift, just slightly. Did that make him disloyal, or was it simply the first step toward something new?
Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden chime from Jack’s phone. He pulled it out, frowning as he saw the name flashing across the screen.
Dr. Levinson.
The sharp buzz of his phone cut through the warmth of the afternoon, an unwelcome intrusion against the cheerful hum of the town square. Jack’s fingers curled around the device, the vibration pressing insistently against his palm. The weight of it felt heavier than it should have, as if it carried more than just a call—an entire life he had tried, for just a moment, to step away from.
Jack’s stomach dropped, his grip tightening around the phone. A sudden wave of tension rippled through his shoulders, the warmth of the afternoon fading as reality came crashing back. His fingers hovered over the screen, his pulse quickening, the weight of old obligations threatening to pull him away from the moment.
His chest tightened. He knew what this meant before he even answered. Work. The life he had momentarily set aside was calling him back.
He hesitated, his gaze flicking to Chloe, then to Claire. For the first time in years, he wasn’t sure if he wanted to answer.
The phone vibrated again in his palm—urgent, familiar, safe. But the sensation clashed with the warmth still lingering in his chest from the moment before, a jarring reminder that his old world was never far behind. But everything in him pulled toward the laughter on the breeze, the sunlight on Claire’s cheek, Chloe’s delighted squeals.
Was he really ready to go back to who he was before—or was it time to choose something else?
Chapter Twelve
Claire
ClairewatchedJack’sfaceas he stared at his phone. His grip tightened around it, knuckles blanching, like he might crush it under the weight of whatever message blinked on the screen. A muscle ticked in his jaw, and Claire sensed the tension coiling through him, a silent battle raging behind his stillness. Even without hearing the conversation, she could sense the weight pressing down on him, pulling him away from the warmth of the present and back into the cold grip of obligation.
“You don’t have to answer it,” she said softly, stepping closer.
Jack exhaled sharply, his jaw tight. “It’s work.”
“I figured.” Claire crossed her arms, tilting her head as she studied him. “But that doesn’t mean you have to answer it right now.”
Claire watched as Jack hesitated, his thumb hovering over the screen. His grip tightened, knuckles whitening, shoulders locked. The weight of expectation loomed like a storm cloud, dragging him back toward a version of himself he was no longer sure he wanted to be. A thousand decisions seemed to gather behind his eyes—the ones he'd made, the ones he regretted, and the one he needed to make now.
In the distance, Chloe’s laughter rang out—light and carefree. The sound tugged at something deep in Claire, a reminder of everything Jack stood to gain if he could just let go. She watched him stare at the screen, and though she couldn't hear his thoughts, his hesitation felt heavier than indecision. As if the real choice wasn’t about work at all, but about staying here, beside her, in a moment that asked nothing more than presence.
Claire studied him, sensing the weight of his indecision. Was he wondering if he could truly be the father Chloe needed while still holding onto the life he had tried to leave behind? His jaw clenched, his fingers tightening around the phone, and she could almost hear the silent debate waging inside him.
