Heat flooded Jack’s face, embarrassment momentarily overtaking him. Claire laughed, her eyes dancing with amusement. “She’s adorable. How old is she?”
“Eight,” Jack replied softly, glancing away briefly before meeting her gaze again. “She’s handling the move better than I am, honestly.”
Claire’s expression softened with genuine sympathy. “Children are resilient. They can teach us a lot if we let them.”
Jack nodded, feeling a tug at the vulnerability in Claire’s words. He didn’t want to let anyone else in, but her kindness threatened the defenses he’d carefully constructed.
“Well, welcome to Seaview Harbor, Jack. You’ll find the community friendly, even if you’re not looking for company.” Her eyes sparkled knowingly.
Jack felt heat creep into his cheeks and stepped back hastily. “Thanks,” he murmured, quickly retreating toward the gate.
Returning inside, Jack handed the ball back to Chloe, who beamed up at him gratefully. He watched her run back outside, carefree and joyful.
Sinking onto a nearby chair, Jack exhaled slowly, replaying his interaction with Claire. Her vibrant warmth had left him unsettled and strangely intrigued, an unexpected complication in his carefully planned solitude.
Jack cast a lingering glance toward Claire’s garden, unease prickling beneath his skin. He hadn’t expected to notice anyone—not here, not now—but something about Claire’s easy smile and sunlit laughter stayed with him longer than he liked.
It wasn’t serious. Just a flicker of awareness.
A small shift in the steady numbness he’d worn like armor for years.
Jack exhaled slowly, pushing the feeling aside.
He needed to focus on Chloe, on rebuilding their life—not on unexpected distractions, no matter how warm or welcoming they appeared.
Still, as he watched Chloe chase her beach ball across the sandy yard, he couldn’t quite shake the quiet ripple Claire had left behind.
A ripple he wasn’t sure he was ready to feel.
Chapter Two
Claire
ClaireDanielswasinvigoratedby the fresh start Seaview Harbor had promised. She allowed herself a moment of hope as she watched Jack retreat after their initial encounter. The salty air stirred around her, warm with promise and possibility. She’d moved here seeking peace and a sense of community several years ago after her tumultuous past, hoping Seaview could be the safe haven she'd envisioned for herself and Gabe.
Just being here, standing on her porch in this quiet coastal town, still felt like the first real breath she'd taken—even after two years, the calm hadn’t lost its magic.
But as Jack’s tall figure disappeared beyond the fence, Claire felt a different stir—a quiet curiosity sparked by his gruff demeanor and haunted eyes. There was something about the way he held himself, so guarded and solitary, that reminded her of herself not long ago. He seemed both familiar and mysterious, awakening questions she wasn’t yet ready to voice, and perhaps, wasn’t ready to face.
Determined to expand her social circle—and perhaps soothe the quiet ache of transition—Claire decided to make a pie, hoping it would serve as a welcoming gesture.
Her seven-year-old son Gabe peered curiously around the corner, his eyes lighting up mischievously. "Another pie, Mom? Are you trying to make the neighbors like us already?" he teased, making her laugh and shake her head affectionately.
As she gathered ingredients from her pantry, she found herself replaying the earlier meeting. She remembered the brief flash of vulnerability in his eyes when he'd glanced at Chloe, the tenderness momentarily breaking through his guarded demeanor.
The image lingered in her mind as she paused mid-motion, one hand still in the flour canister. The kitchen was filled with the warm scent of cinnamon and apples, wrapping around her like a memory. Claire leaned against the counter for a moment, her gaze distant. There was a grief in his eyes—raw and tucked carefully away—that she recognized all too well.
As she wiped her hands on a towel, she wondered what kind of past had etched those deep lines into his handsome face, what loss had carved that stillness into his voice. The thought stirred something deeper than curiosity—a quiet sense of resolve. She wanted to know more, not out of nosiness, but because something told her Jack Montgomery hadn’t let anyone in for a long time. And maybe, just maybe, he didn’t have to stay closed off forever.
Flour dusted her fingers as she rolled out the pie crust, the comforting scent of cinnamon and apples filling the kitchen and wrapping her in memories of baking pies with her grandmother. She recalled standing on tiptoes beside her grandmother's wooden table, the sweet aroma surrounding them as they laughed and shared stories. Those memories felt like anchors, grounding her as she worked to create something comforting in a world that had felt uncertain for far too long.
This pie wasn’t just a gesture—it was a symbol. A bridge between old memories and new beginnings. Claire had promised herself, and Gabe, that Seaview would be more than just an escape—it would be a place to rebuild, to root, to heal. And with each press of the rolling pin, she felt herself claiming that promise, one flaky layer at a time.
Gabe sauntered into the kitchen, leaning casually against the counter and eyeing the pie crust. "Can I help, or are you worried I'll eat all the apples again?" he asked with mock innocence. Claire chuckled softly, shaking her head at his playful grin.
"Only if you promise to save some for the neighbors," she teased.
Gabe tilted his head thoughtfully. "Mom, do you think they'll like us?" His voice softened, revealing his uncertainty about the new neighbors.
