Didn’t mind the sound of her voice over the dull roar of the engines, or the way she made the flight feel like something more than just a commute.
He’d been expecting a quiet flight.
But instead?
He got Claire.
2
Not Enough
Jaxonhadn’texpectedtheflight to go that fast. Hadn’t expected to actually enjoy the conversation. But Claire made it easy—made him easy. The usual walls he kept sky-high around strangers somehow cracked without him noticing, letting her in one sentence at a time.
She was twenty-eight. Grew up just outside Atlanta in a suburb called Duluth after her family moved there when she was a teen. Taught middle schoolers, lived only a short drive from campus, and sounded like someone who actually liked her life, even if it wasn’t picture-perfect. There was something solid in the way she spoke about her world—like she’d earned it, brick by brick.
She was headed to her family’s beach house just outside of Wilmington. A pre-school-year escape with her sister and two close friends, a chance to enjoy a quiet pocket of summer before “storm season” rolled in and reality blew the windows back open. Two full weeks of sand, sun, and no alarms. Claire lit up when she talked about it, and Jaxon found himself watching her mouth move more than he was listening to the words.
He told her he didn’t spend much time in Wilmington outside the airport, but knew a few hidden gems worth visiting. She smiled, said they wouldn’t be staying in town long before heading out to the coast. The conversation rolled on, easy and natural, neither of them trying too hard. Just—talking. The kind of talking that makes you forget you're hurtling through the air in a metal tube.
By the time the plane touched down, they were the only ones still chatting. The flight attendant had to politely ask them—twice—to deboard. It made Jaxon laugh. Claire, too. Something about it felt light. Different. Good.
But then came the ending.
Standing at the edge of the loading bridge, the airport smell of fuel and coffee thick in the air, Jaxon turned toward her. His eyes lingered—just for a second—before the mask slipped back on.
“It was great talking to you,” he said, tone suddenly cooler. Businesslike. Detached. Like she’d dreamed the entire flight and just woken up.
He handed her a card. A damn business card. “If you need anything, I’ll help if I can.”
And then he walked away.
Just like that.
No second glance. No hesitation. Just leather shoes on tile, disappearing into the crowd.
Claire stood there, blinking, like someone had thrown cold water on her face.
That’s it? she thought. That’s how this ends?
The girls had slipped past her already, chattering about rental cars and beach playlists, but Claire stayed frozen for a beat longer, staring down at the small rectangle in her hand. His name. His number. Like a fucking networking event.
She swallowed hard, forcing the lump in her throat down with it, then shoved the card into her bag and followed the others toward the rental counter.
The SUV ride from Wilmington to Caswell was a blur.
Claire didn’t say a word.
The conversation with Jaxon played in her head on repeat—each smile, each laugh, every story and glance and shared breath. But it always ended the same. With that businesslike goodbye. As if she were some professional contact instead of the woman he’d just shared two hours of real fucking connection with.
He could’ve said anything else.
See you around. Stay safe. I’d like to see you again.
But he didn’t.
Instead, he left her with a card.
A transaction.
