He rubbed the back of his neck, Claire's silhouette still vivid in his memory—strong, composed, protective.
She'd handled her ex with grace and grit. And Jack? He’d stood beside her but hadn't known how to step in without crossing invisible lines. He was still trying to figure out where he fit in her world.
His world had been all hospital corridors and sterile control—no messy exes, no shared custody, no playground politics. Just a scalpel, a schedule, and a daughter who depended on him.
But now he’d found himself in a different kind of life—one where bedtime stories and pancake breakfasts felt more urgent than operating rooms.
Still, the weight of past failures pressed on him. What if he wasn’t built for this kind of life? What if he hurt Claire or Chloe by getting too close?
He glanced at his phone. Claire’s name glowed softly in his message thread, her presence tangible even in pixels. His thumb hovered over the keyboard. He started to type: “Hey, can we talk?”—and then deleted it. Started again. Deleted again. The words felt too small, too risky. What if she didn’t want to hear from him? What if she’d already decided where he fit in her life—and it wasn’t close? Pride and fear warred quietly in his chest, and for now, hesitation won.
Before he could type a third time, he heard a small voice call from down the hallway. "Daddy?"
Jack rose instantly. Chloe sat up in bed, rubbing her eyes.
"What is it, peanut? Bad dream?"
She shook her head. "No. I was just thinking... Do you think we could have a forever family one day? Like... all of us? Like with Claire and Gabe?"
Jack’s breath caught, his pulse thudding like a drumbeat. His heart squeezed tight in his chest, the weight of Chloe’s words landing with startling clarity. She’d voiced the very thing he hadn’t dared to say out loud. A flicker of hope rose—and with it, the sharp edge of fear that he might never deserve something so whole.
He walked over and sat on the edge of her bed, smoothing the blanket over her knees.
"That sounds pretty wonderful," he said quietly.
Chloe didn’t wait for more. She settled back onto her pillow with a sleepy yawn. "It’d be nice."
He stayed beside her for a moment longer, watching her eyelids flutter shut. The quiet settled back into the room.
Jack swallowed hard.
She’d said it so simply.
But the ground beneath his carefully managed world had just shifted.
And maybe... that wasn’t such a bad thing.
Chapter Twenty
Claire
Clairegrippedthemugof chamomile tea, the gentle steam curling upward with the honeyed scent mingling with vanilla and lavender. It was her favorite blend—a calming mix that reminded her of rainy afternoons at her grandmother’s kitchen table, the clink of a spoon against ceramic, the hum of a distant radio.
The warmth seeped into her hands as she breathed deeply, letting it settle the uneasy flutter in her chest. Morning light streamed through the window above the sink, casting shifting patterns on the tiled counter. Outside, gulls wheeled over the water, but Claire’s thoughts remained fixed on something closer. Something heavier.
Jack had been distant—not just today, but in a series of moments that quietly accumulated, one after another. An unread message here, a canceled plan there. She remembered one morning last week, reaching for his hand during a walk down by the marina. They had just dropped the kids off and were strolling beside the quiet lapping water.
Claire had been talking about how Gabe had managed to spill both his cereal and orange juice at breakfast, somehow blaming the cat. It had made her laugh, and she’d instinctively reached for Jack’s hand mid-story. Her fingers brushed his, but instead of curling around hers, Jack had slipped his hand into his jacket pocket.
His smile had been faint, and he'd offered only a distracted nod, eyes fixed somewhere over the harbor. That slight withdrawal—not overt, but undeniable—had stayed with her, echoing louder than any words. It stirred a familiar ache in her chest, the kind that whispered of being unwanted, of standing on the edge of someone’s life without a clear way in.
She feared not just the silence, but what it might mean—that maybe Jack was already pulling away before they had the chance to fully begin. Not rude or dismissive—just... quiet. Pulled inward in a way that stirred something too familiar in her chest. That slight pause before returning a text. The softening of his voice, the way his eyes skimmed past her instead of settling. She'd seen that sort of retreat before. From Derek. From others.
She took a slow sip, letting the tea soothe her throat and calm the tight knot in her chest. As she set the mug down—harder than intended—it clinked against the counter, a small, sharp sound that mirrored the frustration rising inside her. No. Jack wasn’t Derek. He had a good heart, even if it had been bruised by life. Still, the silence between them lately had weight. And she wouldn’t let it grow unchecked.
Gabe thudded down the hall, already dressed, his sneakers squeaking lightly on the tile. "I packed my lunch! Can we leave early so I can show Chloe my new shark stickers before the bell?"
"Of course," she said with a smile, ruffling his hair. "Grab your backpack. I'll be right there."
