Page 22 of Hooked on Love

“The house sold last week. The life insurance paid out.” She reaches out and touches the edge of the manila envelope, not picking it up. “Everything’s been…sorted. Legally. Officially.” A long exhale. “She’s gone like she was never here. She’s only…in pictures and my memory now.”

The words land soft and devastating.

I don’t try to fix it. I don’t reach for something useful to say. I sit with her in the moment.

After a while she says, “Sorry. You just got home from a long day and I’m…” She waves a hand weakly.

“Don’t apologize.”

She looks at me then, for the first time since I walked in. Her eyes are red-rimmed, her mascara long since cried off. She looks exhausted and raw and so unguarded it makes my chest crack open.

“Tell me about her,” I say.

She blinks. “What?”

“Your mom. Tell me something about her.”

Her smile is slow and soft as she brings her knees tighter to her chest. “She made terrible coffee. Like, genuinely undrinkable, but she made it every single morning without fail and she was so proud of it.” A half laugh, half sob escapes her. “I used to pour it down the sink when she wasn’t looking.”

I smile.

“She had this laugh,” Peyton continues, quieter now. “You could hear it from three rooms away. And she laughed at everything. Bad jokes, sad movies, the weather channel.” She pauses. “I still hear it sometimes.”

We sit with that for a moment.

Then I say, “I was married once.”

She wipes her damp cheeks, glancing at me beside her.

“Her name was Meghan. We were high school sweethearts.” I keep my eyes on the coffee table, finding it hard to meet her gaze. “We got married young. Thought we had it all figured out.” I pause. “But she wanted a different life than the one I was offering.”

“What happened?”

“She left me after a few years. I couldn’t blame her for leaving,” I admit, clearing my throat. “Until she said I’d never amount to anything working on a boat. That I’d be broke and alone forever and she didn’t want any part of it.” I let out a long, slow breath. “She wasn’t cruel about it, but hell if she didn’t mean it. Which was somehow worse.”

Peyton is quiet beside me.

“I told myself she was wrong,” I continue. “I worked every season, saved, built the business, bought Knot Working. Then last week the engine blew and I’m back on a couch with nothing to show but a repair bill.”

Her voice is soft. “Jake.”

“I’m not saying it for sympathy,” I cut in. “I’m saying it because…” I finally look at her. “Because you deserve to understand why I stopped last night.”

The air between us changes.

She holds my gaze. Steady. Waiting.

“You’re starting over,” I say. “You came here to rebuild something. You don’t need me complicating that. You deserve someone stable, someone who can give you that white picket fence over a bunk below deck.”

“That’s why you stopped?” Her voice is quiet. “Because you decided what I deserve?”

The words land exactly where she means them to.

My jaw tightens. “I’m not looking for a man with a plan, Jake,” she says, her voice unwavering. “And I’m not asking you for anything except—” She stops, her shoulders sagging. “That first night when I came home, I was so relieved when you did, too. That’s all I want. Someone who shows up, who cares, who…makes me feel like I’m not alone in this world.” Her watery gaze holds mine. “You’ve been showing up, Jake.”

The crack in my chest splits wide open.

“I don’t have a lot of money,” I say, low, like a warning.