17. Jace
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 follow her 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.
My mother stops short. “I can explain," she says.
“You’d better.”
“Why don’t you come on and get settled. Something to drink, Sadie?”
Sadie nods. “Sure.”
I can’t stop staring at my father.
Billy. My father's real name. Not Victor. The name he has been using in Sunbreak Harbor. The name that let him disappear from us for years.
I can’t move. I don’t know whether to hug him or hit him.
Part of me wants to pull him into my arms and never let go, the relief of seeing him alive after all this time overwhelming.
The other part wants to shove him against the wall and demand answers.
Why did he leave? Why did he let us think he was dead?
What the hell has he been doing all these years?
My mother keeps fussing, her southern charm in full force as she guides Sadie inside with promises of tea and stories about when I was little. Sadie glances back at me, her eyes asking if I’m okay without saying a word. I manage a small nod and follow them in, my father’s presence heavy behind me.
The house is cozy, feeling like a home. Sunlight streams through the windows.
There’s photos of me and my brothers on the walls.
My mother leads us to the dining room, still talking a mile a minute about the garden and the neighbors and how nice it is to have family visit.
Sadie plays along beautifully, asking polite questions and complimenting the house, but I can feel her watching me out of the corner of her eye.
She knows I’m barely holding it together.
We sit at the long wooden table. My mother brings in a pitcher of sweet tea and a plate of cookies. My father sits across from me, quiet, his hands folded on the table. I bet he’s waiting for something. I don’t know how to feel about that.
I can’t take it anymore. I turn to my mother, my voice coming out rougher than I intend. "Did you know? All these years. Did you know he was alive?"
Her face falls. The southern charm cracks for a moment, revealing the exhaustion and sadness underneath. She sets the pitcher down carefully, her hands trembling a little. "Jace, sugar, it’s not that simple."
"Simple?" I repeat, the word bitter on my tongue. "He’s been gone for years. We thought he was dead. We tore apart every lead we could find trying to find out what happened to him. And you knew?"
She sinks into a chair, her eyes filling with tears she blinks away quickly.
"I didn’t know at first. When he died I grieved like you boys did.
But then he reached out. Years later. Said it was safer if everyone thought he was dead.
I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell all of you.
But he made me promise. For your safety. For mine."
I look at my father then. Billy Hawthorne.
The name feels foreign and familiar at the same time.
"Start talking," I say, my voice raw and hard.
"Now. No more secrets. No more half truths. I want the whole story. Why you left. Why you stayed gone. What the hell you’ve been doing in Sunbreak Harbor with a fake name. "
He meets my eyes without flinching. There’s regret there, along with a flicker of pride when he looks at me.
"It started with an intel mission. Years ago. I was working a case that went sideways. The people I was investigating found out who I was. They threatened the family. You boys. Your mother. Said they’d come after all of you. There was no other way."
The words hang in the air between us. I don’t know what to do with them.
Part of me wants to believe him. The other part is still so angry I can barely see straight.
Sadie reaches under the table and finds my hand again, her fingers lacing through mine.
The simple touch steadies me more than I expect.
My mother wipes at her eyes with a napkin. "He’s been checking in on all of you from a distance. Making sure you were okay."
I look at my father again. The man who raised me. The man who left. "You could’ve told us. We could’ve handled it all together."
He shakes his head slowly. "It wasn’t that simple, son. The people after me were connected. Dangerous. If they thought I was still in contact with any of you it would have put targets on your backs. I stayed away to protect you. All of you."
“Who took Nash and Sin?”
My father shakes his head slowly. “We’ve been trying to figure that out. I’ve got a small team I’m working with and we’re trying to figure things out too.”
The dining room is quiet except for the distant sound of the ocean.
I don’t know how to feel. Relief that he’s alive.
Anger that he stayed gone. Confusion about what this means for everything we’ve been through.
Sadness for the years we lost. And through it all there’s Sadie, her hand in mine, her presence the only thing keeping me from losing it completely.
I take a deep breath and look at my father. "Then start from the beginning. Tell me everything. About the mission. About why you had to disappear. About what you’ve been doing since. I want the truth. All of it."
He nods, his shoulders relaxing a fraction as if he’s been waiting for this moment for years.
"It started with an intel mission gone wrong so many years ago. I was embedded with a group that was moving weapons and information across borders. The kind of people who don’t forgive mistakes.
They found out I was feeding information back to my handlers.
They threatened to come after my family, so I faked my death. "
My mother reaches across the table and touches his arm gently. The gesture is so familiar, so full of old love and pain, that it makes my chest ache. She’s known. All this time she’s carried this secret alone.
I lean back in my chair, Sadie's hand still in mine, and try to process it all. The man across from me is my father. He’s alive. He disappeared to protect us. And now he’s here, in my mother's house, ready to tell the story I’ve been chasing for years.
"Keep talking," I say quietly. "I’m listening."