Claire set down the rolling pin, meeting his gaze gently. "Of course they will, sweetheart. And I bet you'll make friends with the girl next door soon."
Gabe's expression relaxed slightly, though traces of apprehension remained. "Okay, but I'll be watching to make sure they're nice," he replied with exaggerated seriousness, eliciting another warm laugh from Claire.
The familiar motions soothed her nerves, connecting her to simpler, happier times, and reinforcing her determination to build new memories here in Seaview Harbor—not just for herself, but for the boy who’d followed her into the unknown with nothing but trust and love.
Lily, her sister who had moved to Seaview a few months earlier to be closer to Claire and help out with Gabe, had dropped by yesterday with muffins and a stack of coloring books for Gabe—her quiet way of checking in without making a fuss. Claire hadn’t had the chance to tell her about the new neighbor yet, but she already knew her sister would have plenty of thoughts once she did.
Through the open window, she heard the distant hum of waves breaking gently on the shore, the sound a soothing backdrop to her bustling thoughts. She couldn't help but wonder about Jack Montgomery—his reserved politeness, his careful distance, and the shadows she'd seen flicker behind his eyes. What secrets lay behind that guarded facade?
Once the pie emerged golden and fragrant from the oven, Claire placed it carefully in a basket, pausing briefly to reflect as she added a handwritten note. She smiled softly, pen poised thoughtfully as she considered her words. She wondered if the gesture might ease some of Jack's guardedness, or if it might seem intrusive. Shaking off her doubts, she penned a simple yet heartfelt message, welcoming Jack and Chloe and offering her friendship should they ever need it.
She stepped out into the late afternoon sun, pausing when Gabe jogged up beside her, his gaze curious as he eyed the basket. "So, are the new neighbors nice?" he asked, a playful grin tugging at his lips. Claire chuckled softly, nudging him gently.
"They seem nice enough, though a little shy. Maybe you can help me break the ice?"
Gabe shrugged with a mock-serious expression. "I'll think about it, Mom. Don’t want to seem too eager, you know?" he added.
Breathing deeply, Claire felt the warmth seep into her skin. Her heartbeat quickened with unexpected nervousness as she walked the short path connecting their homes.
Standing at Jack’s front door, Claire took a steadying breath, suddenly aware of the rapid rhythm of her heartbeat. A nervous flutter tightened her chest, mingling excitement with a touch of anxiety. She briefly wondered if this simple gesture might appear too forward or intrusive. Shaking off her doubts, she knocked lightly. Moments later, the door opened, revealing Jack's cautious expression, surprise flickering briefly in his eyes before they settled back into guarded politeness, intensifying Claire’s curiosity about the complexities hiding behind his reserved exterior.
“Claire,” he acknowledged, voice reserved. “Is everything okay?”
“Better than okay,” she replied warmly, holding up the basket. “I brought you and Chloe a welcome gift. Apple pie—it’s kind of my specialty.”
Jack hesitated, shifting slightly on his feet, his weight shifting from heel to toe as if unsure whether to stay rooted or retreat. His fingers tightened briefly around the basket's handle. Claire noticed the fleeting shadow cross his face, a brief flicker of uncertainty or perhaps discomfort, as if he was internally debating the risk of accepting the invitation and stepping beyond his carefully guarded solitude, before accepting the basket with a murmured thanks.
“You really didn’t need to go through the trouble.”
Claire smiled gently, noting how his shoulders remained tense, his eyes wary. “It was no trouble at all. Actually, there's a community bonfire tomorrow evening on the beach. You and Chloe should come. It’s casual, relaxed—perfect for meeting people without too much pressure.”
Jack's brows knitted together slightly, his jaw tightening subtly. Claire noticed the way his eyes briefly flicked away, almost as if searching for an escape route. His fingers drummed gently on the edge of the basket, betraying his internal conflict.
“Thanks,” he said carefully, voice low and controlled. “We're still settling in. It's just... maybe another time would be better.” His hesitation lingered in the air, hinting at deeper stories he was not yet ready to share.
Claire nodded understandingly, though her mind flickered to memories of her own cautious withdrawal after her divorce, the lingering ache of betrayal that had once made her second-guess every kind word and retreat from every outstretched hand. She empathized deeply with Jack's hesitation—not just recognizing it, but feeling it echo within her. Even now, part of her hesitated with every new connection, afraid of inviting disappointment or hurt.
Still, something about Jack stirred a different kind of awareness—not just curiosity, but a quiet yearning that tugged at the edges of Claire’s guarded heart, urging her to wonder what healing might have looked like if shared—or what it still could become. What experiences had left him so cautious, so unwilling to open even the smallest crack in his defenses? Perhaps the same kind that had once left her equally guarded.
She smiled warmly despite her growing questions. “Of course. The invitation stands whenever you’re ready.”
Turning to head back home, Claire's thoughts drifted back to her own first weeks in Seaview Harbor—the uncertainty she felt, the loneliness she'd struggled to mask with cheerful smiles for Gabe’s sake, and the cautious hope she'd gradually allowed herself to embrace. Her past had taught her how daunting it could be to let someone new into a wounded heart, yet also how rewarding the risk could be.
As she crossed the yard toward her house, she stole a glance back at Jack’s closed door, already quietly determined to offer him the same kindness and patience she’d once needed herself. But a spark of something more flickered beneath that resolve—a gentle challenge forming in her mind. Maybe tomorrow, she'd find another way to nudge his world open just a little wider.
Something told her this was only the beginning.
Chapter Three
Jack
Jackhadfacedpressurebefore—high-stakes surgeries, impossible decisions—but nothing had prepared him for the relentless enthusiasm of an eight-year-old determined to attend a bonfire.
Social events had never been his thing, even before Amanda passed. He had always preferred structure, predictability, and environments where emotions didn’t cloud judgment. In a hospital, he knew his role, his purpose.
Out here, among strangers and idle conversation, he felt unmoored. Vulnerable. And vulnerability reminded him too much of that last night in the hospital—when control slipped through his fingers, when even his medical training couldn’t save Amanda.
That sense of helplessness had carved something permanent into him, something that now recoiled at the messiness of human connection. It was safer to keep things clinical, distant.
