A future with Claire wasn’t something he had ever imagined before, but now, the thought didn’t scare him. He thought back to the first time she had made an impact—the day Chloe lost her ball in Claire’s yard. He had been reluctant to engage, guarded and withdrawn, but Claire had been patient, warm, and effortlessly inviting.
Slowly, she had slipped past his defenses, not demanding anything, just existing in his world with a quiet persistence. Looking at her now, he realized how much she had changed things, how much lighter life felt with her in it.
He wondered how Chloe would feel about it—would she smile and ask questions, or would a shadow pass through her eyes, reminding him of all they'd been through? Would she see it as a betrayal, or would she welcome the change? Just the other day, she had casually mentioned how much fun it was spending time with Claire and Gabe, how it felt like having a second family.
The words had stuck with him, lingering in his mind longer than he expected. Maybe, without even realizing it, Chloe had already started making space for Claire in their lives. Maybe she wasn’t the only one. He had spent so long keeping things steady for her, shielding her from any more loss, but maybe he had underestimated her resilience.
The doubt lingered, but it was quieter now, overshadowed by something stronger. It felt… possible. Like sunlight breaking through morning fog, tentative yet undeniable. And in that fragile clarity, Jack could almost see it—a new chapter, unwritten but waiting, if only he was brave enough to step into it.
And maybe, just maybe, he was ready to embrace it.
Chapter Fourteen
Claire
Clairecrackedopenthekitchen window, letting the salty morning air flood the room as sunlight spilled across the counters. The warmth of the early sun kissed her skin, contrasting with the cool morning breeze that carried the distant chatter of early beachgoers and the rhythmic crash of waves against the shore. The scent of brewing coffee mingled with the distant sound of waves brushing the shore. She stood barefoot on the cool tile, humming softly to herself while flipping pancakes, her heart unusually light.
Hope. That was what this morning felt like.
Jack’s honesty yesterday had left her breathless—her hands had trembled slightly as he spoke, her breath catching in her throat at the raw truth in his voice. Not just by what he said—but how he said it. There had been no hesitation, no carefully measured words meant to protect himself. He had spoken openly, unguarded, and in that moment, she had seen something rare—trust. It had both reassured her and unsettled her, because trust like that came with risk.
Yet, instead of fear, she felt something else entirely: hope.
Vulnerable.
Raw.
Present.
For the first time, she’d seen a man learning to let go of grief without guilt, stepping gingerly into something new. Into something that might, just maybe, include her.
She smiled as she set a plate down for Gabe, who plopped into his chair with bed hair and a sleepy grin.
“Morning, Mom.” He yawned. “Smells awesome.”
“You say that every morning.”
“That’s because you make awesome breakfast every morning.”
Claire laughed, ruffling his curls as he dug into his pancakes. A warmth spread through her chest. Their mornings here had taken on a comforting rhythm—no longer rushed or tense like they had been back in their old life. Here, she had the space to breathe, to enjoy simple moments like these. The laughter at the breakfast table, the smell of fresh coffee, the salty breeze drifting in through the window—it all reminded her that she had built something steady, something real. And she wasn’t going to let anything shake that. Their new life in Seaview was slowly, steadily becoming the kind of life she had only dared to imagine after the divorce.
Her phone buzzed against the counter. She didn’t recognize the number, but something about it made her stomach tighten. A familiar unease crept up her spine, the same feeling she got every time Derek resurfaced. For a split second, she considered ignoring it. But she knew better—avoiding him never made him go away. She swiped to answer.
“Hello?”
A pause. Then a voice she hadn’t heard in months.
“Claire.”
Derek.
She swallowed hard. “What do you want?”
“I thought I’d check in. See how Gabe’s doing. See how you’re doing.”
Claire’s stomach tightened. Since when had Derek ever made a real effort to check on Gabe? His interest now felt suspicious, almost calculated. She pressed her lips together, bracing for whatever excuse or demand might come next.
Claire’s free hand curled into a fist. The last time Derek had checked in, it had ended with passive-aggressive jabs and veiled accusations. But today, her voice stayed even.
