Chapter Thirty-Three
JULES
The driftwood logbeneath me creaked, its worn surface smooth and comfortable. Firelight danced across Eli’s profile, catching the golden undertones of his skin. Two weeks since Helen’s blessing, and the beach that had once felt like a battlefield now hummed with comfortable intimacy. He wrapped an arm around me, his body a welcome shield against the unseasonably cool night air. I snuggled closer.
“You okay there?” Eli’s voice was low, meant only for me. “Getting cold?”
I shook my head, smiling up at him. “I’m perfect right where I am.”
The beach stretched out before us, bathed in oranges and yellows from the bonfire. It was strange how a place that had once felt so foreign now felt like home. Then again, a lot had changed in the past few months.
On Eli’s other side, Chase shifted on his log to toss a good-sized piece of driftwood on the fire. A cascade ofsparks lifted and snapped into the night, and I smiled as they winked out one by one.
“Sure you want to sit next to me, Chase?” Eli’s voice rang out, loud enough for everyone to hear. “We wouldn’t want to tarnish your impeccable reputation.”
Amusement broke through Chase’s composed exterior. “You haven’t managed to wreck it yet. At least I’m not the one who thinks Casual Friday means board shorts and a surfing sweatshirt.” He gestured at Eli’s laid-back attire.
“Hey, I’m just keeping it real.”
“Don’t mind him, Chase,” I reassured, casting a sidelong glance at Eli. “He always dresses like he’s about to meet the ocean rather than a group of friends and family.”
“Well, if we’re being honest, I actually think he pulls it off,” Harper chimed in next to me, her laughter mingling with the crackle of the fire.
“Thank you, Harper. At least someone appreciates my fashion sense,” Eli said, puffing out his chest in mock pride.
“Fashion sense? More like nonsense.” I couldn’t help but laugh, shaking my head. The banter felt so easy, so right.
“At least I’m not overdressed for the occasion,” Eli added with a wave at Chase in his button-down shirt and slacks.
“Hey,” Chase replied. “I came straight from work. Didn’t realize there was a dress code for Coleridge bonfires. Should I have worn something more casual?”
“I’ll let it slide this time. Fortunately for you, we don’t bite—unless you’re a s’more,” Eli quipped as he roasted a marshmallow that was looking alarmingly incendiary. “Finn, tell him we only chew on marshmallows and chocolate here.”
Grinning, the boy placed his marshmallow-filled skewer into the flames. “Yep. Lots of it.”
Harper leaned in to look at Chase. “I imagine you’ll be coming to more bonfires now. Despite having been friends with Eli for ages, you haven’t joined us much until recently.”
He shrugged. “I guess I never wanted to intrude on family time. Plus, Eli is an ass.”
A murmur of agreement swept around the bonfire. Eli scowled at everyone.
A few moments later, Finn’s excited shout pierced the night as he triumphantly held up the perfectly toasted marshmallow, its golden-brown surface glistening in the firelight. “Look, Mom! I did it!”
Chase laughed, inspecting it from across the fire. “Now that’s what I call precision roasting. You could teach your uncle Eli a thing or two.”
Eli scoffed as he blew the flames out on his. “Hey now, some of us prefer our marshmallows with a bit of char. Adds character.”
“Is that what you’re calling those blackened lumps you’ve been eating?” Chase indicated Eli’s s’more, which I had to agree looked disgusting.
“You know,” Chase said, his tone shifting slightly, “I used to think having everything planned out was the key to success. But life has a way of throwing curveballs, doesn’t it?”
Eli leaned forward, interest piqued. “Oh? Is Mr. Perfectly Planned admitting to some spontaneity in his life?”
Chase’s lips lifted in a small smile. “Let’s just say my new business venture wasn’t exactly part of my five-year plan. But sometimes, the best opportunities come when you least expect them.”
I watched the dynamic between them—lifelong friends who spoke in a language of playful jabs and unspokenunderstanding. Eli’s world had always been about spontaneity, while Chase represented methodical precision. Yet here they were, comfortable in their differences.
I bumped his shoulder. “You’re definitely turning over a new leaf, Coleridge.”
