Chapter 7
Jake
I’m not sure what kind of cosmic joke this is, but here I am, minding my own business at Patrick and Emmy’s wedding, and fate decides to throw Kelly Charleston back into my orbit.
I’ve been sucker-punched by a fucking ghost.
I take a beer from a waiter walking past and down it fast, before Antonio finds me as the ushers direct all the wedding guests to their seats.
“Here you go. Got you some of the good stuff.” He passes me a whiskey on the rocks and I drop into my seat, trying to focus on the ceremony which is about to start.
The sound of Pachelbel’s canon rises up, and first the bridesmaids, and then Emmy, her arm linked with her father—who Patrick told us has recently reconciled with her—walks down the aisle.
Soon she’s standing facing Patrick, and the ceremony starts, the celebrant’s voice loud, carrying through the reception room, but I barely hear him. My attention keeps drifting a few rows ahead, to the beautiful woman in the green dress. To Kelly.
I can’t believe she’s here. In Harbor’s Edge. After all these years. I didn’t know she was back in town, let alone going to be at this wedding. And somehow, she looks even more beautiful than she did the day she walked out of my life.
That dress hugs her in all the right ways, the soft green fabric brushing just above her knees as though it was made for her. It reminds me of the way she used to look at the end of summer—tanned, bright, alive.
But there’s something different, too. She’s not the same girl I used to know. Her face is thinner maybe, with gentle lines at the corners of her eyes, and her smile is still stunning, but now it’s layered, a little reserved: she’s learned to brace for things she didn’t expect.
She’s still so pretty all I want to do is stare at her, but now her expression holds stories I was never part of, things she’s lived without me.
Her dark hair falls over her shoulders, long and loose, and my fingers itch with the memory of sliding through it. How many times did I bury my hands in that hair, thinking I’d hold on to her forever?
I shift in my seat, forcing myself to look away, but it’s useless. My gaze keeps snapping back to her. What the hell is she doing here? I thought I’d never see her again after she left. I figured she was gone for good, off living some perfect life far away from this small town and all the mess I made.
Yet, here she is. Close enough to touch, but so far out of my reach, it almost makes me physically sick. Regret worms through my chest—the same feeling that always shows up when I think about her. Whenever I remember the day I ended things.
Once upon a time, I thought she’d be mine forever—that we’d have a life together built on something wild and real, the kind of love that keeps you grounded but sets you free.
She was The One, someone I was with because I wanted it, every damn day. I wanted her laugh, her touch, her body. Everything .
But then Jenny came to me with news that shattered every plan I’d made with Kelly, and doing the right thing was the only option, even as it ripped my heart clean in half.
To see Kelly now, right here, so close, the pull of her is just as strong as it was all those years ago. Only this time, it’s almost cruel—fate giving me a taste of what I lost, reminding me just how right she felt, and just how wrong it still feels to live without her.
What if I’d made a different decision? What if I hadn’t let her walk away?
And it’s not the first time I’ve asked myself that. Those questions, those regrets, they’ve haunted me for years, but she was gone, and I had a life here—Adele, my business, everything demanding my attention.
But seeing her now, so close, every inch of that old yearning comes rushing back, raw and relentless, as if no time has passed.
God, I still want her. I never stopped wanting her.
At the front of the room, Patrick and Emmy are saying their vows. It’s surreal seeing my old friend up there, marrying the love of his life, while I’m staring at the one who got away.
I steal another glance at Kelly, knowing I shouldn’t, but I’m fighting gravity. There’s a pull between us, the same magnetic force, as though she’s the only thing keeping me grounded.
But the way she’s sitting—her back straight, shoulders stiff—tells me everything I need to know. She doesn’t want to be here. Hell, she probably doesn’t even want to be in the same zip code as me. I get it. After what I did, I wouldn’t blame her if she never wanted to look at me again.
I made my choice. I thought I was doing the right thing, proposing to Jenny when she told me she was pregnant, even though she and I had broken up months before and Kelly and I were back together, happier than we’d ever been.
I thought a clean break with Kelly would be easier on us both. But it didn’t make losing Kelly hurt any less, and I’ve regretted it ever since. And now, sitting here, just a few feet away from her, I feel every ounce of that loss like it happened yesterday.
Letting her go was the biggest mistake I ever made.
I shift again, gripping the edge of my seat and taking another burning sip of whiskey, trying to focus on Patrick and Emmy standing at the altar, but all I can think about is being this close to Kelly again.
But it’s hard to ignore the fact that every nerve in my body is screaming at me to go to her, to say something— anything .
“Patrick, you may kiss your bride,” the celebrant says, his voice festive. The crowd erupts into applause as Emmy and Patrick seal their vows with a kiss that’s straight out of a fairy tale.
I clap along with the rest of them because that’s what you do at weddings. You celebrate, even when your own heart’s twisted up inside. But my eyes drift again to where Kelly’s seated, also clapping politely.
The newlyweds make their way down the aisle, basking in their bubble of happiness, and I’m trying really hard to stay focused on what’s going on around me. But memories are relentless bastards, flooding back in high-definition detail—Kelly’s laughter, the way her dark eyes sparkled when she was fired up about something, the gentle curve of her spine, how it felt to be buried inside her.
“Congratulations!” I hear myself say as Emmy and Patrick pass by, their hands clasped together as if they’ll never let go.
I take another sip, the burn of the whiskey a welcome distraction from the hurt that’s lodged somewhere between my ribs. Everyone stands, the rustle of chairs and murmured conversations filling the air. I get to my feet, my gaze still on Kelly as she rises with the rest of the guests. Her back is to me, but all I can see is the way her hair shifts as she moves, the sway of her hips.
Inside the reception hall, I join the other Valiant Hearts boys at our table. Ethan has Blake tucked under his arm, one hand resting protectively on her swelling belly, while Liam and Mike are busy chatting with their dates. Antonio came stag, like me.
As the drinks keep flowing, I try to act normal, but I can’t keep it in any longer. I lean over to Liam, my voice low. “Did you know Kelly Charleston was back in town?”
Liam shrugs, barely looking up from his glass. “Yeah, I heard. Nora told Mom who told me. She moved in with Nora a couple of days ago.”
Mike raises an eyebrow, looking surprised. “We thought anything Kelly related was off-limits. Don’t ask, don’t tell, right?”
I glare at them both, frustration bubbling to the surface. “A heads-up would’ve been nice. I didn’t want to hear about new boyfriends. The fact she’s back in town is a big deal.”
Liam laughs. “Sorry, man. You okay?”
I force a shrug. They know it tore me apart to let her go. But I never told them how it gutted me, that I’m still not over her. I never told anyone. I kept that pain to myself, because what good would it have done?
“I’m fine.” Another sip. The whiskey doesn’t dull the ache. If anything, it makes everything sharper—I can see her sitting across the room, laughing with Nora, clear as day. And I can’t keep my eyes off her.
But there’s nothing to do other than grab another drink.
We eat dinner and listen to speeches, me spending the entire night distracted and trying to drown my sorrows in the bottom of a whiskey glass. By the time most of the guests have left, I’m pretty drunk. Drunker than I’ve been in a long time.
Nora is nowhere to be seen. Kelly stands, slipping her coat over her shoulders, before she walks out of the reception room. I shouldn’t follow her. But I do.
“Hey man, just getting some fresh air,” I say to Antonio, who gives me a nod and turns back to Liam, who’s telling a dirty joke we’ve all heard twenty times before, but which always makes us laugh.
She walks through a side door, heading outside, and I find myself moving after her, stepping through the same door. The cool night air slaps me in the face, but it’s not enough to sober me. I spot her up ahead, moving through the inn’s gardens, and I’m following her before my stupid brain catches up with my body.
The pathways are lined with tall ornamental grasses that sway gently in the breeze, and clusters of fall trees fill the garden with fiery shades of orange, red, and gold. Everything smells earthy, all damp leaves and sea air.
I trail her through the stone pathways toward the beach, the gardens stretching around us, lit only by scattered lanterns glowing along the path.
Where’s she going? What’s she doing?
She walks with purpose, her coat pulled closed against the cold. The hem of her green dress sways around her knees as she moves, and I can’t take my eyes off her. For a second, she glances over her shoulder, catching sight of me, and her step falters slightly, but she doesn’t stop. Instead, she pushes forward, deeper into the maze of foliage.
We pass under a wooden trellis tangled with ivy, and the gardens give way to the open stretch of beach just ahead, the ocean glimmering beyond. The moon is high, casting a pale silver light over the water.
She finally stops at the edge of the garden beside an oak tree, just before the sand begins, and I close the distance between us.
“Kelly,” I call out, and she freezes.
Slowly, she turns to face me. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest, her expression guarded. The moon catches in the dark of her hair, and the sight sends a pang through me.
I was an idiot to ever let her go without at least trying to make it work.
My thoughts are muddled, thick from drink, but that one thought crystalizes and stays.
I should never have let her go.
But now she’s back.