He squeezes my hand. "Tell me about her. About you two growing up."
I look out at the ocean, the memories surfacing easily. "Anniston is three years younger but she’s always been the bold one. When we were kids she would drag me on these grand adventures. Sneaking into the neighbor's pool at night. Building a fort in the woods behind our house that collapsed the first time it rained. She got us both grounded more times than I can count. But she’s also the one who held my hand when our parents fought. The one who made me laugh when I was too serious. She’s the reason I became a teacher, actually. She always said I was good at explaining things, at making people feel safe. I wanted to do that for kids who needed it."
Jace is quiet for a moment, his thumb tracing circles on the back of my hand. "She sounds powerful. I can see why you’re worried about her. Family has a way of pulling you in even when you think you have boundaries."
I nod, turning to look at him. The sun catches in his hair and highlights the strong line of his jaw. "What about you and your brothers? Besides the zip line disasters. What was it like?"
He laughs softly. "Loud. Competitive. Loyal as hell. Dad taught us to be tough, to protect what’s ours. Mom taught us to bekind, to laugh even when things were hard. After he disappeared it got harder. We all dealt with it differently. Sin threw himself into work. Colt traveled more. Banks got quieter. Mack started digging into every lead he could find. Nash and Crewe went right into the military. I tried to keep things light. Someone had to."
The conversation flows easily after that. We talk about small things. Favorite memories from childhood. The worst jobs we ever had. The books we loved as kids. The way the wind feels different here by the ocean compared to inland. I tell him about my first year teaching, the way one student had changed everything for me. He tells me about the first time he was deployed overseas. The stories are not all heavy. There’s laughter too. The time his brothers tried to teach him to cook and nearly burned down the kitchen. The time Anniston and I tried to dye our hair with Kool-Aid and ended up with pink streaks for weeks.
The hours pass quickly. Small towns give way to longer stretches of beach and dunes. The sun climbs higher, warming the leather seats of the Jeep. I keep my hand on his thigh and he keeps glancing over at me with that smile that makes my stomach flip. It feels easy. Natural. Like we’ve been doing this for years instead of days. The pretense from the beginning has melted away completely. This is us. Getting to know each other.
By the time we turn off the main road and head toward a smaller coastal town, the sun is past its peak. The houses here are smaller, quaint, with flower boxes and porches that face the water. Jace slows the Jeep as we approach a modest two-story home with white siding and a blue door. A small garden lines the front walk.
He parks in the driveway and turns off the engine. For a moment we sit there, the wind dying down around us. Jace looks at thehouse, his expression softening in a way I haven’t seen before. There’s love there. And maybe a little nervousness too.
"This is it," he says quietly. "My mother's place. She moved here a few years ago. Said she needed the ocean and the quiet."
I squeeze his hand. "It looks nice. Peaceful."
He turns to me, that charming grin returning. "Ready to meet the woman who raised seven hellions?"
I laugh and lean over to kiss his cheek. "As ready as I’ll ever be. Lead the way."
We climb out of the Jeep together. The air’s warmer here, the sun bright on the white siding of the house. Jace takes my hand as we walk up the short path to the front door. His palm is warm and steady against mine. I can feel the slight tension in his shoulders, how he’s bracing himself for whatever this visit might bring. Answers about his father. Or more questions. Or nothing at all.
But as we reach the porch and he raises his hand to knock, I realize I’m not nervous anymore. Not really. Whatever happens inside that house, whatever we learn about Victor or the past, we’re in this together now.
17
Jace
We stand on the porch of my mother's house, the afternoon sun warm on my back and the sound of the ocean rolling in beyond the backyard. My hand’s still wrapped around Sadie's, her fingers steady and warm against mine. I’m nervous as hell. I haven’t seen my mother in person in over a year, and the last time we spoke on the phone it was short and surface level. Now I’m showing up unannounced with a woman I’ve known for less than a week but who already feels as if she belongs here with me. The thought makes my chest tight in a way that has nothing to do with fear and everything to do with how much Sadie has come to mean to me in such a short time.
Last night was amazing. She had looked at me when she admitted she was falling, and something in my chest cracked wide open.
I squeeze her hand a little tighter as I raise my other hand to knock on the blue door. The sound echoes in the quiet afternoon air. Sadie glances up at me, her eyes soft and sure, and I feel some of the tension ease. I’m glad she’s here. More than glad.She grounds me in a way nothing else has since I saw my father at that restaurant yesterday.
The door opens and my mother steps out onto the porch. She looks older than the last time I saw her, her hair streaked with more gray, lines around her eyes deeper, but her smile is the same warm southern charm that could light up a room. She’s wearing a simple sundress and an apron dusted with flour, and I can’t remember the last time something so ordinary caught my attention this much.
"Jace Hawthorne," she says, her voice full of that familiar drawl. "Well, look what the tide brought in. I wasn’t expecting you, sugar, but I’m sure glad to see you."
Before I can say anything she pulls me into a hug. I let go of Sadie's hand long enough to wrap my arms around her, breathing in the familiar warmth of her embrace. When she pulls back she turns to Sadie, her eyes lighting up with genuine delight.
"And who is this beautiful girl?" she asks, already reaching for Sadie's hands. "Jace has never brought a woman home before. Not once in all these years. You must be something special."
Sadie smiles, that pretty smile that always gets to me, and shakes my mother's hand. "Sadie Wells. It’s nice to meet you, ma'am."
My mother waves a hand. "None of that ma'am business. Call me Ellen. Or Mom if you’re feeling brave. Come on in, both of you. I have sweet tea and cookies fresh out of the oven."
She ushers us toward the door, still chattering about how nice it is to have company and how she was thinking about calling me last week but got busy with the garden club. I’m about to followher inside when the door opens wider and another figure steps out.
My father.
Victor. Or Billy Hawthorne. He stands there in the doorway, older than I remember but unmistakable. Salt and pepper hair. The same strong jaw. The same eyes that used to look at me with pride when I hit a home run or fixed something around the house. He’s wearing a simple button down shirt and khakis, as if he belongs here. Like he’s been here all along.
I freeze. My heart slams against my ribs so hard I’m surprised Sadie can’t hear it. Shock crashes through me. He’s here. At my mother's house. Acting as if this is all fucking normal. I squeeze Sadie's hand harder, probably too hard, but she doesn’t pull away. She steps closer, her shoulder brushing mine in silent support.
