Chapter 53
Jake
I blink awake to the faint buzz of my phone muffled beneath the layers of blankets. Kelly’s perfect body is tucked close against mine, her head resting on my chest. I reach out, fumbling for the phone as dawn light seeps through the lighthouse windows. It’s still overcast outside, but the storm’s fury has finally died down. There’s a quiet, a vulnerable kind of calm.
“Hello?” My voice is rough, barely awake.
“Hey. It’s Patrick. We’re heading out to assess the damage around town and see who needs help. Could use all the hands we can get. You in?”
“Yeah, of course,” I reply, glancing down at Kelly. She stirs, her eyes fluttering open, finding mine. Her hand slips over my heart, her fingers splayed across my chest.
“We’ll meet at the high school.”
“I’ll be there soon.” I hang up, dropping the phone beside us.
Kelly’s eyes meet mine, soft and full of something I can only describe as hope. I brush a strand of hair from her beautiful face, my fingers lingering on the smooth of her cheek, before pressing my lips to her soft mouth.
“Can you believe we got this second chance?” I say, pulling back a little. She holds my gaze, and this fragile, beautiful thing between us seems to pulse. “Or is it third or fourth at this point?”
She smiles, and it hits right down to my bones. “It doesn’t matter how many tries it took. We’ve finally made it. For real this time.”
“Then I’m not wasting a second of it,” I promise, pulling her close, her breasts pressing against my chest, letting her warmth seep into me for just a moment longer. “Not a single second of it.”
“It’s hard to believe one night could change so much.”
I press a kiss to her forehead. “All we needed was the worst winter storm in more than a decade for us to get our shit together.”
We linger there in the quiet for a few more minutes, my hand tracing the curve of her spine. The world outside might be damaged, but there's something steady in me, something stronger than anything I’ve ever felt.
I brush a gentle kiss against her forehead before we get dressed and gather up the blankets, packing up what we have, and head out. We pause in the shadow of the lighthouse, fine snow still falling, and both take in the wreckage of the festival grounds, the installations half-buried and scattered in the white, some frames snapped in two like matchsticks.
The ornate archway, once the crown of the site, lies strewn across the snow, broken into shards and half-buried beneath drifts. The sight of it all, this scene of ruin, could have sent Kelly reeling not so long ago. But as we stand there, she just stares at it with a calm acceptance.
I turn to her, ready to hold space or comfort her, give her what she needs. “How are you doing?”
She doesn’t pull her gaze from the wreckage but squeezes my hand—twice—her fingers so soft in mine. “I’m okay.” Dark strands of her hair curl around her face, and there’s a kind of peace in her expression. “I know it’s going to be okay. Really.”
Her eyes meet mine, clear and unburdened in a way I haven’t seen before, and I find myself lost in the quiet strength there. And for the first time, I realize that she doesn’t need saving—she never needed it—she just needed to find her way, with me right here beside her.
We climb into the truck—we’ll come back later and pick up her car—the heater coming to life as we pull out onto the snow-covered road, driving through the streets of Harbor’s Edge in silence, each of us taking in the scenes of destruction all around.
Tree branches lie scattered, their limbs blocking roads. A couple of power lines have gone down, and lamp posts and fences lay flat, buried under piles of snow. The storm has left its mark on everything. As I drive, her hand stays firmly in mine, and I’m holding the weight of something beautiful and breakable and fierce all at once, someone that’s weathered the storm and come out whole.
Kelly watches out the window, her gaze thoughtful. “I think I want to help out with the recovery. Volunteer with the Valiant Hearts. It’s something real I can put my energy into, something that means something.”
I glance over at her. “We could use someone like you.”
She looks over at me, her eyes bright and resolute. And for a moment, everything around us—the broken branches, the icy streets, the battered buildings—fades away. It’s just us, driving forward, ready to face whatever comes next, side by side.
I pull up outside Kelly and Nora’s place, watching her silhouette disappear through the doorway as she runs in to get changed. I wait in the truck, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, this thing inside me that’s part excitement, part disbelief. And then, when she steps back outside, I lose my breath all over again.
Her face is fresh, free of all the weight she’s been carrying lately, and her hair catches the morning light and keeps it. She looks up at me, eyes bright, and for a second, I’m transported back to another time, another place.
It’s our first date, when Kelly was fifteen years old and the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. I was sixteen, and meeting her on the boardwalk after school. She had her hair down, flicking around her shoulders in the summer breeze, and she laughed at the bad jokes I made as though she didn’t have a single care in the world.
Back then, I was a mess of nerves, trying to play it cool. We wandered down to the jetty, ice cream cones in hand, the sun making everything golden. She’d looked out over the water, and just sitting beside this girl with so much energy and drive, it was like seeing the world through her eyes—how big everything looked, how much possibility was out there. When I finally took her hand, soft, small and strong, it felt so right.
There, on the jetty, sea spray misting around us, I’d fallen for her. I’d fallen hard, with a girl who looked at me like I wasn’t some kid trying to show the world just how solid and dependable I could be. She was strong-willed, had this light that shone out of her, and I felt lucky just to be there with her.
Now, she’s walking back to the truck through the snow, still that same girl, and yet more . This thing between us, it’s old and new, a full circle of the best kind.
When she climbs into the truck, I reach for her hand again with that same rush I had that day on the jetty, that same nervous thrill.
She squeezes back, once, twice, and the years slip away.
As we drive through the snow toward the high school, where the other Valiant Hearts are gathering, there’s a strange sense of time folding in on itself. The years between us, the choices we made, the storms we weathered—they all blend together, each moment part of something bigger I’m only beginning to understand.
Holding her hand, there’s the weight of time and love, of loss and forgiveness, all woven into this moment.
Life is less about starting over and more about recognizing when you’ve come full circle. Here we are, in the same place but not the same people, finding each other again after the storm.