Claire,
There are things I should have said aloud, but sometimes it's easier to hide behind silence than admit what scares you.
You make me want more. Not just more time, or more days like the ones we've shared—but more of the peace that only honesty brings.
I'm scared because you matter. Because Chloe matters. And because the last time I let myself love someone, it ended in heartbreak I never thought I could survive. But here I am. And you're part of the reason.
You make things brighter. Easier, even when life is anything but. And I realize now that love doesn't betray the past. It adds to it. You don't erase Amanda—you remind me why I loved her so much. And why I can love again.
If you're willing to keep walking forward, I'd like to walk with you. No more hesitation.
Yours, Jack
The next afternoon, Jack stood on Claire’s porch, letter in hand. His fingers tightened slightly around the envelope, the paper edges soft from being handled too much. The scent of rain hung in the air, remnants of a morning shower dampening the wooden steps beneath his feet. He exhaled slowly, the breath catching in his throat, and brushed his knuckles against the doorframe before knocking with measured calm. When the door opened, Claire stood there, surprised and a little breathless from the stairs.
"Jack," she said, her voice soft.
He held the letter out to her, his hand steady despite the whirlwind behind his eyes. "I needed to give you this," he said, his voice quiet but sure. "I wasn't sure I could say everything the way it should be said—without stumbling over it or leaving something important out."
Claire took the letter carefully, eyes searching his face.
"You don’t have to read it now," he added. "But I wanted you to have it."
She looked down at the envelope, then back up at him. The silence between them buzzed with unspoken words.
Jack gave a small smile, his throat tightening as he forced the words out. "I'm not running anymore, Claire. Not from you. Not from this."
The corner of her lips tugged into the faintest smile, a flicker of warmth breaking through the tension that had hovered between them. "Come in," she murmured, stepping back just enough to invite him inside, her eyes lingering on his with something tender and new. The warmth of her tone wrapped around him, a balm against the uncertainty he carried.
As he crossed the threshold, Jack felt the shift in his chest—hope, edged with vulnerability. The room welcomed him with the soft scent of cinnamon and something floral—something distinctly Claire. He drew in a breath, the air feeling warmer than when he’d stood outside.
And that meant everything.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Claire
Clairesatonthecouch, her fingers curled around the envelope like it might vanish. The weight of it felt disproportionate, as if it carried not just paper, but the breathless anticipation of everything she feared and hoped to learn. A thin ribbon of late afternoon light stretched across the floor, pooling at her feet, but all she could feel was the thrum of her pulse and the cold press of expectation in her chest.
Her palms were damp against the paper, her chest tight with expectation. She hadn’t realized how much she'd been holding her breath until now—until the truth was right there, waiting to be unfolded. What if it changed everything? What if it changed nothing?
Her thumb brushed across the flap as she stared at it, her breath shallow. After days of silence and wondering, now that the moment had arrived, her fingers trembled slightly. She remembered the last time she'd stood at that doorstep, unsure if Jack would even show up again. This envelope, soft at the corners from being carried, seemed to contain more than words—it held the answer to questions she hadn’t dared voice aloud.
Her fingers traced the edges as she stared at it, her stomach fluttering with that same charged tension she used to feel before stepping onstage to deliver a speech in high school—nerves laced with hope, fear, and everything in between. The faint scent of Jack’s cologne lingered on the paper, pulling her deeper into the moment, reminding her that whatever was inside came from a place of raw, unfiltered truth.
The muted light of late afternoon streamed through the living room windows, casting a golden hue across the hardwood floor. Jack sat across from her, elbows resting on his knees, his eyes not leaving her face even for a second. The silence was thick, but not uncomfortable—more like a shared breath they were both holding.
"You can read it later if you'd rather," Jack said gently, his voice carrying that familiar warmth that made her heart ache.
Claire met his gaze, then slowly tore open the envelope. The handwritten letter unfolded in her hands, each line carefully scribed. She read in silence, the sound of the children playing faintly outside. Her eyes moved deliberately, absorbing each word, each carefully chosen confession Jack had poured into ink. When she finished, she lowered the letter onto the coffee table, keeping her fingers lightly pressed to it as if it might drift away otherwise.
"Thank you for giving me this," she said, voice soft.
Jack exhaled slowly, the tight set of his shoulders easing as his chest rose and fell with deliberate calm, like the last wave retreating from a long tide of doubt. His shoulders lowered, his jaw unclenched, and a long breath slipped from his chest like steam from a cooling mug. The rigid lines of tension softened, replaced by something quieter—relief, maybe, or the cautious beginnings of peace. He let out a shaky breath, his shoulders finally dropping as if he'd been holding tension there for days.
He glanced at Claire, the corners of his mouth tugging into the smallest, most vulnerable smile. "I was terrified you wouldn't want to hear from me," he admitted quietly. The tension melted from his frame, like steam escaping a tightly sealed kettle, as if he’d set down an invisible weight.
He reached for his coffee mug, fingers wrapping around it like it was an anchor, and looked back at Claire with a gaze that spoke more than words could. "I didn’t know how else to say everything. Every time I tried to talk about it, I kept editing myself. I didn't want to do that with you."
