The truck went quiet. The road kept moving, but her pulse did not. She felt it in her stomach—tight and cold and raw. She hadn’t said that to anyone in years. Not like this. Not where it meant something.
Her chest clenched.
Too soon. Too much. Too real.
She dared a glance at him.
Jaxon didn’t flinch. He didn’t blink.
He just reached across the console, found her hand, and pulled it into his.
He kissed her knuckles like they were glass.
“I love you too.”
And just like that—
She exhaled.
Because for the first time in her life, love didn’t feel like a fall.
It felt like coming home.
38
The Turn
Theinteriorofthetruck is quiet—too quiet. Claire watches Jaxon in profile, his jaw relaxed, his hand steady on the wheel. He’s calm, like he always is. Steady. Predictable. And part of her loves that. The way nothing rattles him, the way he lets silence hang like it’s supposed to be there. But now? It’s unbearable.
She stares at him for a long moment, her heart full but her mind starting to drift. Every thought of staying on the island plays like a reel in her head—images of mornings in his bed, sunsets on the dock, laughter over burgers. She wonders if he’s thinking it too. If he’s building a world in his head where she’s part of it.
But deep down, she already knows the answer.
He won’t ask.
He’s too selfless for that. Too protective of her freedom to ever ask her to give it up for him.
And that truth stings more than she expected.
With each mile they drive, the island gets closer—and so does reality. Claire grips her thigh, fingers pressing into denim, her smile fading. She’s not thinking about the last two weeks. She’s thinking about the ticking clock. The way time moves faster when you’re dreading the end.
After all, in just fourteen days, Jaxon has treated her better than the man she gave years to.
She finally breaks the silence. “Can we ride around town a little before we go back to your house?”
Jaxon glances at the sky, then back at the road. “We could… but there’s a storm rolling in. I’ve got a better idea than dodging rain.”
She arches a brow. “Oh yeah? What’s your idea?”
He smirks. “You’ll see. It’s something I do every time it storms.”
That makes her laugh a little, easing the tension in her chest. She has no idea what it could be. Knowing him, it’s either something sweet and sentimental—or absolutely unhinged.
When they pull up to Jaxon’s house, Claire’s nerves creep in like fog under a door. She wasn’t thinking about it until now, but she’s not sure what the place will look like. She left the beach house in a hurry, and the girls have been here since.
The truck idles, and Jaxon reaches for the door handle.
Claire places a hand on his arm. “Jaxon… if your house is a mess, I’ll make sure they clean it before they leave.”
