Chapter 4
The late afternoon sun slanted across the backyard of Jack’s parents’ house, casting everything in warm golden light. Rachel and Shiloh had been in Baytown for over a year, and the small town didn’t just feel like home… it was home.
Rachel sat on a picnic blanket spread across the grass, her back against Jack's chest, his arms wrapped loosely around her waist. The smell of burgers on the grill mixed with the salt air drifting in from the bay. Carrie sat at the picnic table next to Shiloh, with her baby, Carson, in her arms.
Rachel felt Jack's chin rest on her shoulder, his breath warm against her ear. “You comfortable?”
“Mmm.” She let herself relax more fully against him, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat through her back. “This is perfect.”
And it was.
Colt stood at the grill, his attention focused on flipping burgers with the kind of serious concentration he brought to everything he did.
Joseph stood beside him, the two men talking quietly, occasionally laughing at something one of them said.
They'd developed an easy friendship over the past months, bound by their shared work in law enforcement and their shared love for the women sitting at the picnic table.
Shiloh and Carrie sat side by side, their heads bent close as they talked.
Every so often, one of them would laugh, and Rachel would feel her heart swell at the sound.
Shiloh looked happier than Rachel had ever seen her…
relaxed, content, no longer carrying the weight of fear that had hunched her shoulders for so long.
And then there was George. The older man sat in a lawn chair positioned in the shade of the big oak tree, a glass of iced tea sweating in his weathered hand. He was probably in his seventies, with kind eyes and a gentle smile that reminded Rachel of her grandfather.
Jack had adopted George as his honorary grandfather when he and his mom shared a duplex with the older man. When their lives had been threatened by fire, Colt had moved them all into his house. George lived in the apartment over the attached garage, happy as could be with his newfound family.
“Come on.” Jack stood and offered his hand. “I want to show you something.”
Rachel let him pull her to her feet, curious. He led her across the yard to where a net was stretched across a rectangular frame near the fence.
“I've been meaning to teach you this,” Jack said, grabbing a baseball from a bucket nearby. He tossed it lightly in his hand, grinning. “Every girl who dates a baseball player needs to know how to throw a decent pitch.”
Rachel laughed. “Jack, I can barely catch a ball without flinching, and only when I have a really big mitt. What makes you think I can throw one?”
“Because I'm an excellent teacher.” He positioned himself behind her, his chest against her back, and guided her arm through the motion. “See? It's all in the follow-through. You want to step forward with your opposite foot, bring your arm back, and then release right here.”
His breath was warm against her ear, and Rachel found herself more focused on his proximity than on the mechanics of throwing. But she nodded, trying to concentrate.
“Okay. I think I have it.”
Jack stepped back, giving her space. “Show me what you've got, Ayers.”
Rachel wound up the way he'd shown her, stepped forward, and released the ball. It sailed wildly to the left, missing the net by at least six feet and bouncing off the fence with a hollow thunk.
Jack pressed his lips together, clearly trying not to laugh.
“Don't,” Rachel warned, but she was already smiling. “Don't you dare laugh.”
“I'm not laughing,” Jack said, his shoulders shaking. “That was... that was a good first try.”
“You're a terrible liar.” Rachel grabbed another ball and tried again. This time, it went high, arcing completely over the net and landing somewhere in the bushes behind it.
Now Jack did laugh, a full belly laugh that made Rachel want to tackle him. “Okay, smarty-pants… you do it!”
He stepped forward and let the ball fly straight into the center of the net. Grinning, she looked over her shoulder. “Looks like you have the skill, just not the ability to teach.”
“Oh, so that's how it's going to be?” he said, laughing.
Jack retrieved the balls and came back to her side. “Okay, okay. Let me show you again. The problem is you're releasing too early. Watch.”
He demonstrated perfect form, the ball hitting the center of the net again with a satisfying thwack.
Rachel tried again. This time, the ball went straight into the ground about three feet in front of her, bouncing weakly before rolling to a stop.
“Oh my God,” Rachel groaned, covering her face with her hands. “I'm hopeless.”
“You're not hopeless,” Jack said, wrapping his arms around her from behind again. “You just need practice. And maybe some natural athletic ability. Which, no offense, you don't have.”
Rachel elbowed him gently in the ribs. “I can swim now. That counts.”
“That absolutely counts,” Jack agreed, kissing her temple. “But maybe we stick to swimming and leave the baseball to me.”
“Deal.” Rachel turned in his arms and looked up at him. “Although watching you try to teach me was pretty entertaining.”
“For who?” Jack grinned.
“For everyone watching us.”
Jack's head whipped around, and sure enough, Colt, Joseph, Carrie, and Shiloh were all looking, barely concealing their amusement. George was in his lawn chair nearby, his shoulders shaking with silent laughter.
“Having fun, son?” Colt called out.
“She's a natural!” Jack called back, his voice heavy with sarcasm.
“I can see that,” Joseph said, grinning. “That last one really showed promise.”
Rachel buried her face in Jack's shoulder, laughing. “I'm never living this down, am I?”
“Probably not,” Jack admitted. “But hey, at least you tried. That's all that matters.”
“You're just saying that because you love me.”
“That's definitely part of it,” Jack agreed, pulling her closer. “But I also mean it. You're brave enough to try new things, even when you know it won’t go great at first. That's pretty amazing, Rach.”
Rachel looked up at him, her heart squeezing at the sincerity in his voice. Jack always made her feel like she was capable of anything.
“One more try?” she asked.
Jack's smile widened. “One more try.”
He handed her the ball and stepped back. Rachel took a breath, wound up, and threw with all her might.
The ball sailed past the net, over the fence, and disappeared into the neighbor's yard.
There was a moment of stunned silence. Then everyone burst into laughter.
Rachel dropped her face into her hands, her own laughter mixing with embarrassment. “I'm done. I'm officially retiring from baseball.”
Jack swept her up in his arms, spinning her around despite her protests, kissing her soundly. “That's okay. I love you anyway.”
And surrounded by the laughter of their family, with the setting sun painting everything gold, Rachel decided that being terrible at baseball was a small price to pay for moments like this.
“Rachel,” George called out, gesturing for her to come over. “Come sit with an old man for a minute.”
Jack's arms loosened reluctantly, and Rachel pressed a quick kiss to his cheek before standing and walking over to George. She settled on the grass near his chair, tucking her legs beneath her.
“How are you doing, sweetheart?” George asked, his voice warm with genuine concern. “Really doing, I mean. Not the polite answer you sometimes give.”
Rachel considered the question, touched by his perceptiveness. “I'm good. Better than I've been in a long time, actually. It feels like I can finally breathe.”
George nodded slowly. “That's good. That's real good. You've been through more than most folks experience in a lifetime, and you're still just a girl.”
“I don't feel like just a girl anymore,” Rachel said quietly.
“No, I suppose you don't.” George took a sip of his tea. “But that's not always a bad thing. Sometimes growing up fast means you appreciate what you have more than folks who had it easy.”
Rachel looked back at the gathering. Colt and Joseph laughed at the grill, Carrie and Shiloh chatted like old friends, and Jack watched her from the blanket with such open affection it made her chest ache.
“I was just thinking,” Rachel said, “about how this feels like family.”
“That's because it is family,” George said simply. “Not all families are blood, Rachel. Some of the best families are the kind you choose.”
Tears pricked Rachel’s eyes. She remembered her parents, and Sunday dinners around a small table, her mother's laughter, and her father's gentle teasing.
She thought about her grandmother teaching her to braid hair and her grandfather reading to her before bed.
Those memories were precious, kept safe in her heart like treasures she could pull out and examine whenever she needed to remember she'd been loved.
But they were also tinged with loss. With the ache of knowing those people were gone and she'd never get them back.
“I miss them,” Rachel whispered. “My parents. My grandparents. Sometimes I'm scared I'll forget what they looked like, what they sounded like.”
George reached down and patted her shoulder with his weathered hand. “You won't forget, sweetheart. Those memories are a part of who you are. But you know what else?”
Rachel looked up at him.
“They'd be happy for you,” George continued.
“Happy that you found people who love you and protect you.
Happy that you're building a new family here.
Love doesn't run out, Rachel. Having new people to love doesn't mean you're betraying the ones you’ve lost. It just means your heart's big enough to hold them all.”
A sob caught in Rachel's throat, and she pressed her hand to her mouth. George didn't say anything else, just kept his hand on her shoulder while a silent tear slid down her cheek.
After a moment, Rachel felt movement beside her. Jack had come over, settling on the grass and pulling her into his arms without a word. She buried her face in his shoulder, grateful for what she'd found.
“Food's ready!” Colt called from the grill.
Rachel pulled back, wiping her eyes, and Jack handed her a napkin from his pocket with a gentle smile. George winked at her, and Rachel managed a watery laugh.
“Come on.” Jack stood, offering his hand. “Let's eat.”
They gathered around the picnic table, a chaotic mixing of adults and children trying to find seats. Colt said grace, thanking God for food and family and safety. Then the organized chaos of serving began, with burgers and hot dogs being passed around, potato salad and coleslaw making the rounds.
Rachel ended up squeezed between Jack and Shiloh, her plate piled high with more food than she could possibly eat.
Across from her, George cut his hot dog into small pieces, his movements patient and practiced.
Joseph was telling a story about a mishap on the water that had Colt laughing so hard he had to set down his burger.
Then Carrie ate while Colt held Carson. After a few minutes, Shiloh had eaten and taken Carson from Colt’s arms.
Seeing Shiloh holding a baby and the look of love on Joseph’s face, Rachel knew it wouldn’t be long before she and Jack would have babies of their own to love.
It was loud and messy and perfect. Rachel looked around the table and felt something settle deep in her chest.
This chosen family had given her something she'd thought was lost forever. Not a replacement for what she'd had before, but something new and just as precious. A place where she was safe. Where she was loved. Where she could be herself without fear.
“You okay?” Jack asked quietly, his hand finding hers under the table.
Rachel squeezed his fingers and smiled. “Yeah. I really am.”
After dinner, as the sun began to set and the air cooled, they moved to the firepit Colt had built in the corner of the yard. She roasted marshmallows under George's careful supervision while the adults settled into lawn chairs arranged in a loose circle.
Rachel sat with Jack on a two-person bench, her head on his shoulder, watching the flames dance.
Shiloh and Joseph sat close together, Joseph's arm around Shiloh's shoulders.
Carrie leaned against Colt, both of them looking content and tired in the way parents of a young child always did at the end of a long day.
“This is nice,” Carrie said softly. “We should do this more often.”
“Agreed,” Shiloh said.
George chuckled from his chair. “It's good for all of us. We sometimes forget, in the midst of work and worry, that these moments matter. The quiet evenings. The shared meals. The people we love gathered around us.”
Rachel watched George carefully slide off another marshmallow, making sure not to get burned, before handing it to her to make another s’more.
She thought about her grandfather, who used to do the same thing at family campfires when she was small.
How he'd tell stories about when he was young, his voice warm and comforting in the darkness.
How safe she'd felt sitting by his side, believing nothing bad could ever touch her as long as he was there.
George wasn't her grandfather and couldn't replace the man she'd lost. But sitting here, watching him, Rachel felt a connection form. A bridge between past and present. Between who she'd been and who she was becoming.
“Thank you,” Rachel said suddenly, her voice cutting through the quiet conversation. Everyone looked at her. “Um… all of you. For... this.”
Carrie's eyes filled with tears. “Oh, sweetheart. We love having you over.”
Colt held her gaze, nodding. Shiloh and Joseph smiled, while Jack squeezed her.
George raised his glass of tea in a small salute. “To family. The one we're born with, and the one we choose.”
They all raised their glasses and echoed his toast. “To family.”
Jack pulled Rachel closer, pressing a kiss to her temple. “Love you,” he whispered, quiet enough that only she could hear.
“Love you too,” Rachel whispered back.
As the fire burned down and the children began to yawn, as parents gathered their things and prepared for the drive home, Rachel held on to this moment the way she'd committed her family’s memories.
Because George was right… love didn't run out.
Her heart was big enough to hold everyone she'd lost and everyone she'd found.
She couldn’t imagine a life without Jack in it, and was glad that she’d never have to find out.