"That sounds like exactly what they need."
He nodded slowly. "And exactly what I need." For years, Jack had defined himself by routines, by responsibility, by grief held too tightly to share. But here—sitting across from Claire, his daughter giggling just outside the door—he felt something shift. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed laughter at the dinner table, or conversations that didn’t carry the weight of loss. This life, unexpected as it was, had begun to feel like his again.
He told her everything—how he’d spoken about Amanda, how he’d proposed not just to offer his medical expertise, but to fund an expansion that would serve as a lasting tribute. He explained the vision: a dedicated wing that would offer maternal health services, mental health counseling, and early childhood care. "I want to name it after her," he said quietly. "The Amanda Grace Wellness Wing. A place that honors who she was and gives Chloe something tangible to connect with—a legacy she can feel proud of, even if her memories of Amanda are faint."
Claire reached across the table, covering his hand with hers. "Jack, that’s beautiful. Chloe will love that. She’s already asking more about Amanda, and this... this gives her something lasting. Something good."
Jack’s throat tightened, but he nodded. "I don’t want Amanda to just be a picture or a bedtime story. I want Chloe to grow up knowing where she came from and seeing that her mom’s compassion lives on."
Claire’s voice was gentle. "You’re doing that. More than you know."
They talked well into the evening, sketching out possibilities—offering funding for expanded services while also volunteering at the community center alongside Claire.
Maybe Jack would even coach Gabe’s little league team. The idea made them both smile. Their plans twined together like vines, each rooted in love and mutual respect.
As night settled, Jack stood at Claire’s porch and glanced toward the stars just beginning to prick the sky. Chloe’s laughter echoed faintly from the swing next door. He turned to Claire, taking her hand.
"I want this. All of it."
She squeezed his hand gently. "Then let’s build it. Together."
Jack leaned down, brushing a kiss to her forehead, heart thrumming with quiet certainty. Tomorrow held no guarantees. But for the first time in a long time, the future didn’t feel like a weight. It felt like a door—just waiting to be opened.
And it would start with a simple call from the clinic.
As Jack stepped off the porch and reached for his phone, it buzzed in his hand—a call from the clinic lighting up the screen. His breath caught, heart ticking up a notch. What if this changed everything? What if it didn’t?
He stared at the glowing name for a beat longer than necessary before swiping to answer.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Claire
"Herememberedmyfavoritecolor," Gabe whispered, watching from the safety of Claire's side as Derek handed him a neon green water bottle. Claire felt the knot in her chest loosen just slightly, the words warming her chest even as doubt still clung to the edges of her heart. It was a small gesture, but it meant more than she'd expected—more than she'd let herself hope for.
They sat at a round table in the community center, sunlight pouring through tall windows, the scent of fresh coffee drifting from a nearby refreshment station and the gentle clinking of mugs and soft murmur of nearby conversations grounding them in the hum of daily life as families and volunteers moved through the open space.
Derek looked different than the last time—less put together, maybe, but more grounded. He’d arrived on time, wore a soft sweatshirt instead of a blazer, and carried none of the smug confidence that used to hang off him like cologne.
Claire gave Gabe’s shoulder a squeeze. "Go ahead and talk to him, honey. I’ll be right here."
The boy hesitated for a second longer, then slid from his chair and walked over to the other table where Derek waited, visibly nervous.
Claire watched. Her eyes scanned every nuance of the exchange—the way Gabe’s voice trembled slightly at first, the hopeful glint in Derek’s eyes, and the moment Gabe managed a small smile in return. A few words floated across the room—Derek asking about Gabe’s favorite book, and Gabe mentioning the school science fair. Their voices were quiet, hesitant, but something real passed between them. She noticed the way Derek leaned forward when Gabe spoke, how he let his son finish full sentences without interruption. Progress, slow and tentative, but genuine.
Jack slipped into the chair beside her, coffee in hand, offering it to her without a word. Their fingers brushed.
"You’ve been watching for five minutes straight," he teased gently.
"I’m entitled to five more."
He smiled. "I think it’s going okay."
She took a sip. The warmth calmed her. "Better than I imagined. Derek’s trying. And Gabe... he seems open."
"That’s what matters."
Lily was helping with the dessert table at the community event, her calm presence a steadying force amid the bustle. At one point, Claire caught Lily shooting a pointed glare in Derek’s direction—subtle enough that no one else seemed to notice, but sharp enough to make Claire bite back a laugh. It was protective, maybe even a little petty, and exactly the kind of sisterly support she hadn’t realized she needed today.
