And for a second—a precious, blinking second—it was just them. No past. No pain. Just a family, soaked to the bone in something that felt like joy.
When it ended, breathless and dripping, Sara and Jaqueline went to shower while Jaxon stayed behind to clean the wreckage. He knelt on the soaked tile, wiping puddles with a towel, and smiled.
It was stupid. It was simple. It was everything.
This is what I wanted, he thought. Not the big wins. Not the applause. Just this.
The quiet after chaos.
The feeling of belonging.
Upstairs, the house was still humming.
Jaxon reached the top step with a towel wrapped around his waist and a soaked T-shirt sticking to his back. Jaqueline stood in the hallway, waiting like she always did, her eyes heavy with sleep and her smile wide.
“What are you wearing, Daddy?”
“I didn’t want to drip everywhere,” he said. “You don’t like my dress? I thought purple really made my eyes pop.”
She giggled—those late-night, loopy, I-love-my-life kind of giggles—and crawled into bed without protest.
Sara appeared, fresh and soft and glowing from the water fight. She slipped in beside them. Jaxon picked up the book—her book, the same one every night. His voice found its rhythm, low and slow. Sara didn’t need to read it anymore—she’d memorized every line just from hearing him. But still, she leaned in, eyes on the page like the ending might be different.
He glanced over, and there she was—watching him, not the book.
Jaqueline fell asleep somewhere around page four. They both kissed her forehead and pulled the blanket up under her chin before quietly backing out of the room.
Outside the door, Sara whispered, “We redid her room. We gave her a whole library corner. And she still asks for that book.”
Jaxon smiled, eyes misting. “I know every word by heart.”
“So do I,” she said. “But I wouldn’t change it.”
“I’ll read that story until the pages fall apart,” he whispered. “Because it gave me an ending I didn’t think I’d get.”
Sara looked up at him, heart in her throat. “It’s not the ending, Jax.”
He nodded, his hand sliding into hers.
“No,” he said softly. “It’s just the next chapter.”
75
Last Wake-Up Call
AfterJaxongetsoutof the shower, he and Sara crawl beneath the sheets, the air between them already warm from routine and something far deeper—something that still hums with wonder.
Sara does the same thing she’s done every night since the day she came back—since the day she chose them. She rolls onto her side, eyes drifting toward the windows. The Carolina moon spills across the water, casting soft flickers that dance along the walls like ghosts in motion. It never gets old. That view. That stillness. That reminder.
Every night, she stares out at it and remembers the day she could’ve left for good. The day she almost did.
She doesn’t wonder anymore if she made the right decision.
Because every night—without fail—Jaxon reaches for her. Wraps an arm around her waist. Pulls her close enough to feel the rhythm of his heart sync with hers. He doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t have to. His presence does the talking. The way his hand rests just beneath her ribs like he’s trying to hold the most fragile part of her together. The way he breathes her in like she’s the peace he didn’t know how to ask for.
And just like that, she sleeps.
By morning, the tide has shifted. The sun seeps in through the cracks in the curtains, bathing the room in a glow that never quite looks the same but alwaysfeels like home. Sara doesn’t need an alarm anymore. Not when the sound of gulls and soft waves is enough to rouse her gently.
