But then her voice cut through the quiet—small, unsure, brave.
“Jaxon, did you mean what you said on the porch?”
His hand froze. “What do you mean?”
“I know you weren’t talking about the storm.”
He turned toward her.
“I meant every word, Sara.”
Their eyes met, and neither looked away. The tension was so thick it could’ve broken bones. It was more than attraction. It was longing. History. Guilt. Love. Need.
Jaxon leaned in.
So did she.
But at the very last second—just before their lips met—Sara pulled back. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”
She bolted from the couch like it burned her, leaving him stunned in her wake.
He sat there, heart thudding against his ribs like a war drum. Did I misread that? Every touch. Every look. Every unspoken thing. She put my hand on her side. She curled into me. She stayed. And still... she ran.
Upstairs, Sara sat in her bedroom in stunned silence. I told him no. After all that—after everything we’ve shared—I ran. And without a word.
She hated herself for it.
He has a child with my sister. My dead sister. How do you kiss the man you love when he's tied to someone you lost?
But still... she'd touched his hand. Laid on his chest. Given him every green light her heart had.
And he almost kissed her like she was breakable.
She was still thinking, still hoping, when she heard footsteps on the stairs. Her breath hitched. He’s coming. If he walks through that door, I’ll stop him. I’ll kiss him first. I’ll tell him it’s not about Claire. I’ll tell him it’s always been him.
She saw his shadow pause outside her door.
But it never moved.
The shadow disappeared.
And the soft click of his door shut her hope down.
Sara’s heart cracked.He’s done. He thinks I don’t want this. He thinks I don’t want him.
The sound of water running from his shower made it worse. Not because he didn’t come in—but because she knew why he didn’t. I broke something I can’t fix.
“I wish I could rewind time to five minutes ago,” she whispered.
Jaxon stood under the water, motionless. It wasn’t even warm anymore.
He’d replayed those few minutes in his mind over and over. The movie. The quiet. The way she looked at him. The kiss. The no.
He got out, dried off, brushed his teeth, and dropped into bed. The ceiling stared back.
She’s been here two weeks. Two weeks of getting to know me better than most people ever have. I let her in. And she slammed the door shut the second I asked for more.
Two rooms. Two people. One heartbeat.
