Claire blinked quickly, overcome.
"Promise me we’ll keep building this, even if I’m away."
She nodded. "Always."
The kids had fallen asleep in a pile of pillows and picture books on the porch. Though they each had their own homes next door, this evening had naturally unfolded into shared space and comfort. The moonlight shimmered on the sea in the distance, casting silver ripples across the gently lapping tide. A salty breeze danced through the dunes, carrying with it the distant sound of waves breaking against the shore and the faint scent of driftwood.
Jack reached for Claire’s hand, their fingers intertwining in quiet reassurance. The gesture wasn’t just about comfort—it was a silent promise, a steady anchor in the shifting tides of change. In that moment, the weight of his upcoming absence gave way to something gentler: the strength of what they were building, together. Her skin was warm against his, grounding him in a way words never could. He leaned in slightly and murmured, "When I get back, let’s make time to walk the beach more—just us."
Claire gave a soft chuckle, her eyes still on the water. "You’ll have to catch me first. I’m quicker than I look."
Jack grinned, eyes locked with hers for a heartbeat longer than usual. "Challenge accepted."
Claire’s smile softened, and for a second, neither of them looked away.
Then, as if the moment had been waiting patiently all along, Jack leaned in and pulled her close.
Their lips met—unhurried, tender, a quiet affirmation of everything that had been growing between them.
It wasn’t rushed or fiery. It was grounding. Like finding home.
When they finally pulled apart, Claire's eyes shimmered.
"Worth the wait," she whispered.
"This isn’t a goodbye," he said. "It’s a pause. Just a few pages turned."
"And the story keeps going," she whispered.
Before he left, Jack knelt to hug Chloe goodbye. She clung to him, then whispered in his ear, "I wish we could be a real family. All four of us. When you come home."
Jack’s throat tightened, his breath catching as the weight of Chloe’s words settled deep in his chest. The words echoed with surprising clarity, catching him off guard. For a split second, he saw Amanda’s face—how she used to talk about building a forever kind of love for Chloe. He kissed Chloe’s forehead and whispered, "We’re working on it, sweetheart. One day at a time. And that day is getting closer."
As Jack’s car service drove away to take him to the airport, he watched the soft glow of porch lights fading into the distance. A lump tightened in his throat as he pictured Claire standing on the steps with the kids, the hand-drawn map still clutched to her chest.
He imagined her fingers tracing the edges of the parchment, just as she had the night before, pausing over the golden ink he’d used to mark their most cherished places. The lighthouse. The beach. The center they were building from love and loss.
Jack exhaled slowly as the coastal road curved beside the sea. The scent of salt air lingered on his shirt. The pages of their story weren’t finished—not by a long shot.
The paper held places they’d been. The future waited to be drawn—one that he was ready to fight for, come home to, and build… one page, one promise at a time.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Claire
Theseagullscriedoverheadas Claire adjusted the blanket beneath her, a quiet ache stirring beneath her ribs. The same beach where laughter had echoed now felt suspended in stillness, every sound sharper, every breeze more fragile. She tucked her toes deeper into the warm sand and let the hush of the waves soothe the tension curling in her chest.
A light breeze tugged at the ends of her cardigan, and the briny scent of saltwater drifted in from the tide. She tucked her toes into the warm sand and glanced at the small notebook resting beside her—a place where Jack’s map had sparked her own thoughts about the future.
It had been four weeks since Jack left for Charleston.
The days felt longer without him, not in a lonely way, but in the sense of missing the steady rhythm they’d begun to build together—morning coffee on the porch before the kids woke up, shared glances during school drop-offs, the quiet routine of folding laundry side by side while music played in the background.
Chloe was handling it well, despite her bedtime frowns and repeated questions about when her dad would be home. Claire reassured her gently each night, weaving Jack’s return into stories about the things they would do together when he came back.
She flipped open the notebook and reread the list, her fingers brushing each word as if they were touchstones of the life she envisioned, grounding her in hope. Her fingers brushed over each item as vivid images sparked to life. The family picnic spot—she imagined a shaded patch beneath the willows near the Seaview bluff, with a gingham blanket, lemonade jars, and laughter bouncing off the bay.
The outdoor garden for the wellness wing brought to mind rows of lavender and rosemary, calming scents drifting through the air while patients and visitors wandered peacefully.
