And for the first time in years, she let herself believe in second chances.
In redemption.
In love that finds you even when you’re not looking—and refuses to let go when you try to leav
74
The Next Chapter
Theeveningairbuzzedwith conversation and comfort, the way only a house full of old friends and deep roots can feel. The smell of Cajun shrimp and grits lingered through the open windows, teasing the breeze, while laughter spilled out from every corner of the yard. Somehow, the guys had convinced Sara to cook their favorite dish again—something she pretended to groan about but secretly loved.
For once, Jaxon wasn’t at the grill. For once, he was part of it all. He sat back in his chair with Carter and Trevor, their legs stretched out, beers in hand, watching the chaos of their kids running wild through the yard. His eyes followed Jaqueline like a tide trailing its moon, not overbearing—but tethered. She and her best friend were thick as thieves, always one giggle away from disaster.
“Who knew they’d be that close?” Jaxon asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Trevor smirked. “Apple. Tree.”
Jaxon laughed, deep and genuine, the kind that fills your chest and makes you grateful for things you didn’t even know you had.
The women emerged from the house carrying plates, teasing the boys about being spoiled. Sara didn’t serve the guys anymore—said they had two feet and working hands. She flashed Jaxon a look that made his beer taste sweeter, made the whole damn day feel warmer.
“Still looks as good as the first time she made it,” Trevor said, digging in.
“Can’t believe she did back then,” Jaxon added, glancing at Jaqueline.
“She likes cooking,” Jaqueline piped up, her voice proud, like she was revealing a family secret.
Talk turned to the business. Sara gave a quick rundown—the new island location was slower than expected, but she wasn’t worried. Atlanta was booming,and they still made their monthly trips back to check in. It was working. All of it. Somehow, they’d found a rhythm.
And yet, there was nothing ordinary about any of it.
Not this porch.
Not this food.
Not this life.
The kids asked to be excused. The grown-ups leaned back, full plates turned into full hearts. And as they laughed, Jaxon thought—this is the version of life I used to beg for in the dark. This is the one I thought I’d never have.
The sun had dipped and the house had settled into that post-dinner quiet, broken only by the clatter of dishes in the sink. Jaxon stood elbow-deep in soap suds, glancing at Sara as she wiped down the counter.
“Want to dry while I wash?” he asked.
“Just toss them in the dishwasher.”
“It’s only a few,” he shrugged. “No point letting them sit for days.”
“Fine,” she said, grabbing a towel. “But you’re still washing.”
He bumped her shoulder with his, playfully.
She smacked his ass with the dish towel, grinning.
Flirtation turned into chaos in the blink of an eye. He flicked water at her. She gasped like he’d crossed a sacred line. When he laughed—hard, eyes closed, head back—she grabbed a cup and filled it to the brim. The moment his eyes opened, she dumped it straight over his head.
Laughter roared.
Then Jaqueline appeared like a chaos magnet, joining in with shrieks of joy. Water war broke out in full force—spoons used as splash weapons, cups launched like grenades, the floor slick beneath their feet. They slipped, slid, screamed.
