At 6:57, he sat on the edge of the couch, flipping through Netflix but not watching a damn thing.
That’s around the time that he heard the crunching.
He jumped up at the sound of tires rolling over gravel. Peeking through the blinds, he saw the girls’ rental easing upthe drive, turning around.
And there—standing outside, holding a bag from Tides Rising, was Claire.
Running shorts. Loose tee. Hair up.
Holy shit.
She looked like home.
He opened the door just as she started up the porch steps, her smile easy, her energy soft.
“Thank God,” he exhaled.
She raised a brow. “Are you that hungry?”
He grinned. “I am. But I was mostly worried you’d show up like you did for our first dinner—dressed to kill—and here I am, looking like I just finished mowing the lawn.”
She laughed. “Nope. Tonight you get the real me. No fancy dress. Just what I wear most nights when I’m at home.”
He stared for a beat too long before replying. “You look beautiful. Whether you’re in heels or could jog home.”
She held up the takeout. “Mike told me your favorite from the grill.”
“You’re already two steps ahead of me,” he said. “That’s my go-to when I get home late from town.”
Claire followed him inside, her heart thudding just loud enough for her to hear it.
This is it.
This is the version of him no one else sees.
And for the first time since meeting him…
She wasn’t nervous.
She was ready.
18
Risk Taking
Withwhat’sleftofdinner tucked inside crinkled to-go wrappers on the coffee table, the only thing still simmering was the tension in the room. The movie played on, soft light flickering across the walls, but Claire wasn’t watching anymore.
She leaned into Jax’s chest, sinking into the warm weight of his arms as he stretched back against the couch. One of his hands found her arm, his fingertips trailing slowly up and down her skin in an easy, lazy rhythm—like he wasn’t even thinking about it. Like touching her had become second nature.
A feeling washed over her. One she couldn’t name at first.
But then she knew.
Safety.
Not the kind that came from locked doors or quiet nights. It was the kind that came from being held—from knowing the person beside you didn’t just want you here, but felt better because you were.
I feel so safe… like home.
