But that realization caught her off guard.
And vulnerability—real vulnerability—wasn’t something she was used to sitting in.
So she sat up, pulling away gently. “I’m gonna grab a bottle of water,” she said. “You want anything?”
He shook his head, eyes soft.
Claire rounded the corner into the kitchen and opened the fridge. The cold air hit her legs, grounding her. She twisted the cap off the bottle, then drifted to the sink—where her reflection stared back from the window.
That’s when she saw it.
The moonlight outside, dancing off the surface of the water. Casting soft, liquid diamonds across the world like it had secrets it was only willing to share after midnight.
She stood there for a moment, transfixed.
Each night, the moon rises. And each morning, it falls. It keeps coming… even when it knows it can’t stay.
Something about that felt too familiar.
How can something so beautiful still cause this kind of ache?
She looked down at the sink, voice quiet but certain.
“You know you’re going to leave, Claire.”
Then, louder—to herself. “So take the risk. You’ve got a few days left on the island. Go in there and kiss him.”
She looked back up.
Her reflection smiled back at her—bright, sure, wild.
Just like the moon.
When she returned to the couch, she didn’t hesitate. She curled into his side again, rested her head against his chest like she was claiming a place that had already been hers. He reached for her arm again, the touch even slower this time. More certain.
A long beat of silence passed between them.
Then, quietly, she said, “Can I ask you something weird?”
He chuckled. “You can ask me anything.”
“Do all the windows in your bedroom not bother you in the morning?”
Jax let out a laugh. “So y’all did take the grand tour.”
“You told us to,” she said, grinning. “I just wondered if it wakes you up. All that light.”
He shifted slightly, looking down at her. “The sunrise is beautiful. But what makes the brightness worth it… is the moonlight.”
Claire’s breath hitched slightly at the way he said it—soft, slow, like a memory he hadn’t shared with anyone else.
“When you’re standing in front of those windows at night,” he continued, “it’s like standing on the dock. Everything outside is dark. And then there’s the moon—bouncing off the water, lighting up the room just enough to make everything feel… alive. The reflections move. They ripple across the walls. Across the bed.”
His voice dropped lower. “It’s quiet. Peaceful. It feels like the world holds its breath just long enough for you to realize… you're not alone.”
Claire sat still for a second.
Then quietly, but firmly—“Can I see it?”
