“Teach me?” she asked after a pause.
He looked up, surprised, then nodded slowly. “I’d like that.”
And though she didn’t say it aloud, Capri thought she might like it, too.
Jake reached beside him and held out a second vise, sliding it across the table until it rested in front of her. “Here,” he said, his voice low and steady. “This one’s yours.”
Capri hesitated, then scooted closer until their knees touched. She watched as he selected a hook and secured it in the clamp, then handed her a spool of thread. His fingers brushed hers—warm, calloused, sure—and a tingle zipped straight through her. She swallowed and steadied her breath.
“Start with a base layer,” he murmured, guiding her hand in slow, precise movements. “You want to wrap the thread evenly, keep it tight, but not too tight. Like this.”
He shifted behind her slightly, his arms coming around her sides, his hands over hers. His chin was near her shoulder, close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath and the subtle scratch of his beard against her hairline. She followed his guidance, wrapping the thread slowly, her focus narrowing to the feel of his touch—firm but gentle, completely present.
It wasn’t just about the fly. It was the way he taught her—patiently, quietly—as if there was nowhere else he’d rather be. And something about that undid her a little.
“You’re good at this,” she said softly, keeping her eyes on the vise to avoid the intensity of what she felt building inside.
“So are you,” he replied. Then, after a pause, “Did you tell the girls we’re going to set a date soon?”
The question floated into the warm hush of the room like a soft ripple on still water. She blinked, her hands stilling.
“No,” she said, the answer honest and immediate. “I meant to. But between Reva’s trip to Georgia, the baby shower plans, Fleet, and everything else...it felt like later might be better.”
Jake didn’t push. He just nodded, as if he understood more than she was saying.
“I didn’t want to make it about me,” Capri added, her voice quieter now. “Everyone’s going through so much. I guess I thought...I’d wait until the moment felt right.”
Jake leaned forward and kissed the spot just behind her ear. “When you’re ready,” he said simply.
And just like that, Capri felt a flicker of peace settle beneath her ribs—the kind that only came when someone knew how to hold both your hand and your heart without asking you to let go of either.
They sat together in silence for a moment, the fire painting shadows across the walls, the half-finished fly still caught in the vise between them.
Jake shifted slightly, his voice low. “I love you, you know.”
Capri turned her head, studying him. His eyes held hers, steady and unflinching.
He set the thread spool down, then gently took her hands and pulled her to her feet. “Come here.”
She stood, letting him draw her close. He kissed her, slow and deep, his hands resting lightly on her hips. When he pulled back, she answered his non-verbal question with a smile.
Jake didn’t need further encouragement. He took her hand, guiding her down the hallway.
“What about the flies?” she whispered.
His voice was a little rough. “They’ll be there in the morning.”
Inside the bedroom, he turned to face her, brushing his fingers through her long blonde hair, the strands slipping between his hands. His gaze searched hers, unspoken questions and promises hovering just beneath the surface.
Then her phone buzzed.
Capri’s eyes fluttered closed, a groan rising in her throat. “Not now,” she muttered, ignoring the intrusion.
Jake’s hands moved gently down her arms, his touch grounding. But the phone buzzed again. And again.
She huffed, pulling away with visible frustration and grabbing the phone from her pocket. “What?”
Charlie Grace’s voice came through the speaker, breathless and urgent. “Capri. Meet us at the hospital. It’s Camille. Looks like she might be losing the baby.”
