Chapter 14
Kelly
I slide into the passenger seat of Jake’s truck, my pulse quickening the moment his familiar scent—caramel and something woodsy—wraps around me. It’s ridiculous how that smell still does things to me, dragging me back to those high school nights when everything felt easy between us, long before everything turned upside down.
I grip my bag, trying to stop myself from thinking about everything, and try not to notice how close we are in the cab, how easy it would be for our arms to brush. One wrong move, and I’d be right back where I was all those years ago.
And that is not happening again. The wedding night was an aberration, a moment of temporary insanity. Right?
The truck rumbles to life, and Jake glances my way. “So... How’s it feel being back in Harbor’s Edge?”
“Like I never left,” I say, keeping my gaze fixed out the window.
He drums his fingers against the steering wheel. “Place hasn’t changed much since you left. Still lots of places to make bad decisions.”
I tighten my grip on my bag, trying to shut out the way he looks at me as though we still share the same unspoken secrets. “I see you’re still contributing to the latter.”
Risking a glance at him, he grins. And it’s just as devastating as I remember. “Someone’s gotta keep the tradition alive.”
The conversation stalls, and silence falls between us. I fiddle with the zipper on my bag.
“Settling in okay?” he asks after a beat.
“Yep. Pretty well.”
We hit a curve in the road, the coastline stretching out beside us. My gaze snags on the lighthouse in the distance. We spent so many nights here, daring each other to climb the rocks or sitting wrapped up under a blanket. The good memories press in. It was where Jake and I had some of our best moments—the late-night talks, heated make-out sessions, all those times we broke up and got back together: believing it was inevitable we’d always find each other again.
But it’s the memory of that final night that steals my breath. The way he’d stood there, looking broken, telling me it was over, the beacon overhead flashing across the water.
I force my gaze away, stuffing down the hollowness in my chest.
Jake clears his throat, giving me a sideways glance, as if sensing my retreat. “You and Nora are living together, right? Nora still stirring up trouble wherever she goes?”
“You know it. I think she considers it a public service.”
He laughs, the sound so familiar. “Some things never change.”
No, they don’t. Like the way Jake smells. Or the way his voice can curl around me and make me forget, for a split second, why I shouldn’t be making friendly small talk with him.
We pull into the grassy field behind the lighthouse, and Jake parks the truck before cutting the engine. The quiet crash of the waves against the shore reaches us, and for a moment, neither of us moves.
“Well, this is the spot,” he says finally, gesturing out toward the open space beyond the lighthouse which is going to be the new festival site.
“It’s going to be great. Very atmospheric.” I open the door and climb out before I can let his presence get any deeper under my skin.
Jake meets me at the front of the truck, hands tucked casually into his pockets, watching me with that same irritating, calm expression.
“Let’s get to work, then.” I square my shoulders and march toward the site.
“Here’s where we’re thinking of setting up the main stage,” Jake calls from behind me, businesslike, as if he’s remembered there’s an invisible line he shouldn’t cross. Good . There is. I keep it drawn firm in my mind.
“Sounds good,” I reply without looking directly at him. I point to a spot near the lighthouse. “Food trucks over there, maybe? And a covered dining area for dining in case of inclement weather.”
“Works for me.” His footsteps crunch on the ground as he walks beside me.
“Great.” I scan the area, seeing the festival come to life in my mind. “We’ll need power hook-ups for the food trucks, lights and outdoor heaters.”
“Already on it,” Jake assures me. “Anything you need, we can make it happen.”
I glance at him, the ocean breeze teasing strands of hair across my face. I tuck them behind my ear. “Thanks.” The word comes out a little softer.
“Alright then,” he says. “Let’s map this out.”
“Let’s,” I agree as we get back to his truck, pulling out my notebook, which is already filled with plans and lists. It’s tangible proof that I’ve got this, that I can handle anything—including working with Jake. Because this is about the town, about the festival. Not us. Never us. Not again.
I flip to the page filled with my initial sketches for the festival layout. “Okay, so here’s the vision…” I spend five minutes speaking in specifics about my plan for sustainable installations, eco-friendly displays, reusable materials, and minimizing our environmental impact.
I tell him that we want to be able to reuse many of the installations for subsequent events, and that I want some of the seating to become a permanent fixture at the site, so people can continue to enjoy this space after the festival. When I stop, I glance at Jake, expecting some acknowledgment of how brilliant it all is.
Instead, he leans against the truck, arms crossed, his brow slightly furrowed. “This is all great stuff, really great, but it’s going to take twice the time and blow the budget.”
Of course, he has to ruin the vibe. I resist the urge to roll my eyes. “This isn’t just any festival—it needs to be perfect. You heard the mayor.”
Jake scratches the scruff on his square jaw. His cheeks have gone a little pink in the wind, and he’s flipped his jacket collar up. “Perfect’s overrated, and I doubt the mayor expects things to actually be perfect. We need to be practical.” He pauses, looking right at me. “But if you’re the one pushing for it, I can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Practical means the same festival that’s been happening for decades,” I fire back, a smile lifting the corners of my lips despite myself. I forgot how much I loved the back and forth we used to have, the way we could disagree one minute, then be kissing and making out the next. “Compromising means settling. The mayor said this needs to be the best festival we’ve ever held, and as far as I’m concerned, she’s the boss.”
“Compromising means we have a good festival ready on time that still blows the previous festivals out of the water,” Jake replies, his voice calm, as though I’m some kind of over-caffeinated hurricane. “It’ll still be great, even if we compromise a little.”
That word—compromise—rubs me the wrong way. My voice goes a little sharp, even though part of me is enjoying the clash between us. “I don’t want great. I want unforgettable.”
Jake gives me a look and holds my gaze, unexpected heat coiling in my core as the seconds stretch. The cold wind blows that caramel scent that clings to him right at me, and for a moment, I forget to breathe. That night at the wedding comes back to me in full force, his hands, gripping and greedy, his mouth.
Right now, he’s too close, and I can almost taste the tension between us, the way it hums in the space that’s too small but somehow a canyon.
Damn him. This is supposed to be business. Not whatever this is. This stupid pull that’s always existed between us. My heart lurches in my chest, caught between the urge to punch him and the impulse to... well, kiss him, to spend another night doing something stupid together.
He presses his lips together. He’s trying not to smile. He knows what I’m thinking. I can tell by the gleam in his eye. Smug bastard. “You know, you’re a lot more fun when you’re not trying to save the environment in one afternoon,” he says, before giving me a crooked grin that sends my pulse skittering.
Before I can respond—because obviously there’s a good comeback on the tip of my tongue—Jake glances at his watch. “Shit. Sorry, I’ve got to go. I need to pick Adele up from school.”
And just like that, the bubble bursts. Hearing his daughter’s name is a douse of ice water. Adele—the reason Jake walked away all those years ago, the reason everything fell apart between us.
I snap my notebook shut, forcing my expression back into neutral territory. “Right. Of course.”
The ride back to town is quieter than before, the playful tension between us replaced by the awkward weight of old memories. I stare out the window, willing my heart to stop racing.
As Jake pulls up to the office, he glances at me with a small, almost apologetic look as I turn to face him. “I’m sorry about earlier. About focusing on the budget and practical issues. I know how much heart and soul you’re going to pour into this, and if anyone can pull off the mayor’s grand idea, it’s you.”
I gather my things. “Thanks.”
He forces a swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “I really am sorry for the way things ended with us. All of it. I wish I could go back in time and change things, but I can’t. What I can do is promise I’ll do whatever I can to bring your vision to life.”
I nod, even though my heart is twisting in ways I don’t want to admit. He watches me as I open the door and climb out, quiet tension stretching until he finally speaks.
“For what it’s worth, I’m not just here to help with the festival. I’m here for you. I messed things up once, but I’ll prove to you that this time, I’m not going anywhere. Not unless you tell me to.”
The words knock the air out of my lungs. I manage a faint smile, a weak attempt at brushing it off, but he just holds my gaze steady.
“See you soon.”
And then he’s gone, leaving me standing there with a thousand emotions I can’t seem to untangle.