“Looks like it’s passing,” he said.
They waited a few more minutes in the car, watching the last of the storm clear. When the rain eased into a mist and the clouds began to part, they grabbed the umbrella and the last of the picnic supplies and dashed toward the nearest beach gazebo.
Under its slatted roof, they shook off droplets, laughing as they rearranged the blanket over the wooden bench. The kids resumed their chatter, pointing to the rainbow beginning to stretch faintly over the water. Sunlight broke through in slanted rays, casting the beach in golden hues. Raindrops glistened on sea grass and puddles sparkled with reflected light.
Claire stepped out from the shelter and raised her face to the sun. Not long ago, she would’ve flinched from a moment like this—waiting for something to go wrong, for a shadow to fall. But now, she simply breathed it in, letting the light touch her skin like a quiet reassurance.
She had let go of the fear that used to coil in her chest, always braced for the next disappointment. In its place was something softer—a trust in this life she was building, this love she was allowing. The sunlight didn't just warm her skin; it soaked into her, claiming space she hadn't realized was still waiting to be filled. The scent of rain on sand, the damp breeze, the quiet peace—it all felt like something sacred.
Jack stood beside her, shoulder brushing hers.
“I used to hate storms,” Claire murmured. “But sometimes, they wash things clean.”
He looked at her for a long moment. “Yeah. They really do.”
She glanced toward the horizon where a rainbow stretched faintly across the sky.
A symbol of promise.
Of beginnings.
Of something bright breaking through.
Claire smiled, her heart full, the moment settling into her like a quiet revelation. It felt like a turning point—one of those rare, weightless instants where the past loosened its grip just enough to let hope take hold.
Whatever came next, she would face it with the quiet strength she'd rebuilt piece by piece. That strength had been earned—and now, shared with the man who, somehow, had become part of that foundation.
They weren’t facing it alone anymore.
Not even close.
Chapter Seventeen
Jack
Whiletheywereinthe gazebo, the rain had returned—gentle, steady, and familiar. Jack tilted his face toward the sky, the cool drizzle brushing his skin like an old friend he hadn’t seen in years.
"Looks like it’ll pass quickly," he said, though his voice was low, more observation than warning. He brushed a few droplets from his brow as they stepped beneath the shelter, the wooden slats overhead offering dry reprieve. The kids' laughter rang out from the shore, cutting through the hush of the rain with easy joy.
Jack leaned on the gazebo railing, arms loosely folded, his gaze locked on Chloe and Gabe as they darted between puddles. Something about the sight made his chest ache in a way he hadn’t expected—like memory and longing had tangled somewhere behind his ribs.
"They’re going to catch colds," he called out, though his tone held more amusement than warning.
Claire chuckled beside him. "They’ll survive. And they’ll remember this more than any dry day." She glanced sideways at Jack, the corners of her eyes crinkling.
Jack allowed himself a small smile, watching the kids with a fresh awe of childhood wonder. Their laughter stirred something soft in him—something he hadn’t realized he’d missed.
Jack glanced at Claire. "You’re always so sure about things." The words came out quieter than he expected, almost a whisper. There was something steadying about her confidence—something he hadn’t realized he was drawn to until now. Jack had spent so long second-guessing every decision, stuck in limbo between the past and an uncertain future. Claire's surety wasn’t loud or forceful—it was calm, rooted. And standing beside her, he felt the edges of his own doubt begin to soften.
"Not always," she replied, her eyes still on the kids. "But when it comes to letting them be kids? Yeah. I’m sure about that."
The breeze carried a salty tang, brushing cool and damp against his skin. The rain smelled like earth and sea, cleansing and sharp. Chloe’s bare feet made satisfying splashes with every hop, while Gabe’s laughter mingled with the soft squish of sand beneath their feet. Their clothes were soaked but their spirits were untouched.
Claire shifted beside him, brushing a damp curl away from her face. "They look like they’re trying to catch the rain on purpose," she said with a soft laugh, her voice almost lost in the rhythmic pattern on the roof.
Her laughter was softer now, quieter than the children’s but no less free. Jack didn’t know how she did it—how she found joy in the middle of drizzle and dampness, how her optimism radiated without effort. Being near her felt like exhaling after holding his breath too long.
"They’re going to be drenched," he said, though he made no move to stop them.
