"They’re already drenched." Claire’s grin was unapologetic. "But look how happy they are."
Jack followed her gaze. Chloe spun in circles, arms spread wide, while Gabe scooped up wet sand and shouted something about building a fort. The rain didn’t faze them—it energized them.
Jack’s shoulders loosened as he let out a soft chuckle. "They’re resilient."
"Kids usually are. Sometimes I think they’re better at handling change than we are," Claire said, glancing at Jack with a knowing smile. "They don’t overthink everything—they just live."
Jack turned toward her slightly, studying the side of her face. Her calm in the middle of the storm reminded him of Amanda, but in a different way. Amanda had hated the rain, always scrambling to shut the windows and keep things dry, but she’d humor him when he wanted to stand at the edge of the porch and listen. He could still remember the soft creak of the wooden floorboards beneath their feet, the scent of fresh rain mixing with the faint sweetness of her shampoo, and her voice—teasing, familiar—as she leaned into him with mock annoyance that never quite reached her smile.
That memory flickered through him now—not painful, just tender—and it made him appreciate Claire’s presence all the more. Her steadiness was different, quieter, but no less powerful. Jack blinked, realizing how tightly he’d been holding that memory, how long it had stayed folded inside him like a letter never sent. There was something so grounded about Claire—like no matter how strong the winds blew, she’d hold fast. And that steadiness, once something he might have overlooked, had become something he craved without even realizing it.
For a moment, he let himself be fully still. The scent of wet sand and salt filled the air. The distant roar of the waves melded with the occasional shriek of the kids’ laughter.
Claire tucked her hands into the sleeves of her light sweater and rocked on her heels. "They’re having the time of their lives," she said with a quiet smile. "Makes me wonder if we’re the ones who forgot how to live in the moment." She tilted her head slightly and said, "Do you ever think about what you’ve lost... and realize maybe you're ready to find something again?"
“When I was younger,” Jack said, surprising himself, “I used to love storms. Amanda thought I was crazy. I’d open the windows just to hear the rain. She’d scold me and then do it with me anyway."
Claire didn’t interrupt. Her silence invited more.
“I stopped after she died,” he continued. “Everything just… got quieter. Like the world muffled itself."
Claire glanced at him, her expression soft, and her hand shifted slightly, brushing lightly against his arm in a gesture so small it might have been accidental—but it wasn't.
"You ever feel like maybe… parts of who we are get tucked away with the people we lose?"
Jack blinked, a flicker of something raw passing through him. A memory surfaced—Amanda’s hand in his as they danced in the kitchen, the way she used to hum while brushing Chloe’s hair. Pieces of himself that had quieted with her absence. He didn’t speak right away, but Claire’s words settled deep, like she’d uncovered something he hadn’t dared name. He nodded, throat tight.
“But storms still come,” she added. “Maybe it’s not about bracing for them anymore. Maybe it’s about finding shelter—people—to weather them with."
Jack looked back out at the beach, then glanced sideways at Claire.
"Thanks for that," he said quietly, his voice barely louder than the breeze.
"For what?" she asked, tilting her head.
"For reminding me what it’s like to feel normal again. Even if it’s only for a few minutes."
The clouds were breaking apart slowly, sunlight cutting through like a cautious promise. He watched the shimmer of light touch Chloe’s soaked hair, the way she looked toward Gabe and laughed like the rain had always been her favorite companion.
His hand brushed against Claire’s. He didn’t take hers right away. Just let the back of his knuckles rest near hers, hesitant but deliberate.
“Thank you,” he said finally.
Claire looked at him again. “For what?”
“For not pushing. For just… being here.”
She smiled, and he felt something unlock inside him—something small and quiet but unmistakably real.
A few minutes later, the storm had passed. The rain slowed to a gentle drizzle before disappearing entirely, leaving behind the fresh, earthy scent of wet sand and salt. Puddles shimmered like scattered mirrors, and the breeze carried a light coolness that tickled Jack’s skin. The distant sound of dripping water from tree leaves and the fading rhythm of waves replaced the storm’s earlier roar, signaling peace in its wake.
The clouds, once heavy and gray, had thinned to delicate streaks. In the distance, a rainbow curved across the horizon, faint at first, then stronger. Gabe pointed at it, yelling, and Chloe clapped her hands like it was a gift made just for them.
Jack stepped just beyond the shelter's edge and held out his hand. Before he did, his eyes flicked to Claire—watching the way she leaned slightly forward, her brows gently lifted, lips parted as if she’d been waiting for this moment too. Her expression held no pressure, only quiet understanding. It felt like both a risk and a release—an invitation, not just to Claire, but to the version of himself he was beginning to rediscover. In that simple motion, he gave himself permission to hope again.
Claire looked down at it, then up at him, and placed her hand in his without a word.
Her fingers were cool from the rain, but they warmed quickly in his grasp. As they walked across the wet sand toward the children, Jack felt something settle inside him. A sense of belonging. Not the kind he had with Amanda—that would always be sacred. But something new. Something earned.
