Chapter 5
Eleven Years Ago
The sand was still warm beneath the blanket even as the sun began its descent toward the horizon.
Jack sat with his back against a piece of driftwood, Rachel tucked against his side, her head resting on his shoulder.
His arm wrapped around her, holding her close, and he breathed in the scent of her shampoo mixed with salt air.
This was their spot. The private beach north of Baytown, where they'd spent countless afternoons over their adolescent years.
Where they'd shared deep, longing kisses.
Where she'd told him more about her youth and wonderful family, and then the fear that had shaped her preteen years.
Where he'd promised her she was safe in his arms and that he'd never let anyone hurt her again.
And now, where he had to say goodbye.
Rachel shifted against him, and he felt her fingers curl into his shirt.
She'd been quiet for the past ten minutes, ever since he'd mentioned leaving for the Naval Academy in a week.
The silence wasn't uncomfortable, but it was heavy with everything neither of them wanted to say.
She was often quiet, unlike some girls who seemed to giggle too much and had little to say when they talked.
“Remember freshman year?” Rachel's soft voice was almost lost amid the sound of the gentle waves. “When you taught me how to swim?”
Jack smiled despite the ache in his chest. “You were terrified.”
“I was.” She tilted her head to look up at him. “But you were so patient. You never made me feel weak or stupid for being scared.”
“You weren't weak.” He brushed a strand of dark hair away from her face. “You were brave. There's a difference.”
Rachel's lips curved into a small smile. “You always say that.”
“Because it's true.” Jack let his fingers trail down her cheek. “You went from being afraid of the water to swimming in the bay with me. That's courage, Rach.”
“I could do it because you were with me.” Her voice dropped to a whisper. “I don't know how to do this without you.”
The words hit him square in the chest. Jack tightened his arm around her, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “You're not doing it without me. I'll just be in Annapolis instead of down the street.”
“That's over three hours away.”
“I know.” God, did he know. He'd been counting the distance, calculating how often he could come home… not much, and how many weekends they could steal together… not many. “But it's not forever. In four years, I'll have my commission, and you’ll graduate. We'll figure it out after that.”
Rachel sat up, turning to face him fully. Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. “What if you meet someone else?”
“Hey.” Jack reached for her hands, gripping them firmly. “Look at me.”
She met his gaze, and he saw the fear there.
“There is no one else,” he said, his voice steady and sure. “There will never be anyone else. You're it for me, Rachel. You have been since the day I met you.”
“We were barely in high school then.”
“So?” Jack squeezed her hands. “I knew then. I know now. Nothing's going to change that.”
A tear slipped down her cheek, and he released one of her hands to wipe it away with his thumb.
“I'm scared,” she admitted. “Of losing you. Of losing this… what we have.”
“You won't.” Jack pulled her closer until their foreheads touched. “I promise you, Rach. Distance won't change how I feel about you.”
Rachel's eyes glistened with unshed tears as she remained silent.
Jack cupped her face in his hands. “You're not something I'm waiting to get past. You're what I'm waiting for. There's a difference.”
They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, their gazes on the setting sun.
Jack shifted so that she was tucked underneath his arm, her body reclined next to his.
“I'm terrified right now.” His admission came easier than he'd expected.
“Of leaving you. Of not being here if you need me.
Of missing out on your life while I'm gone.”
Rachel's eyes widened. “You are?”
“Yeah.” Jack let out a breath. “But I also know this is the right choice. The Academy. The Navy. It's what I want. You want to be a teacher. And together, it will give us a future. We’ll have a good one.”
“Tell me about it.” Rachel's hands moved to rest against his chest. “Our future. Tell me what you see.”
Jack closed his eyes for a moment, letting himself imagine it.
Then he opened them and held her gaze. “I see you finishing at Eastern Shore Community College and then transferring somewhere for your teaching degree.
I see me coming home every chance I get, and you visiting Annapolis when you can.
I see us making it through four years of long distance because we're stronger than the miles between us.”
“And after?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“After, I’ll get commissioned. Maybe I'll be stationed at Norfolk, which would be closer to our families and each other. Or maybe I'm somewhere else for a while, but you can come to me, and we’ll carve out a life together. Eventually, we’ll come back here.
To the Bay. To Baytown.” He traced her jawline with his fingers. “Our past and our future.”
“You really think we can do this?”
“I know we can.” Jack leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “We've been through harder things than distance.”
Rachel was quiet for a long moment, her fingers curling into his shirt again. When she spoke, her voice was steadier. “I made you something.”
“Yeah?”
She pulled away just enough to reach into the beach bag beside them. When she turned back, she held a small scrapbook, the cover decorated with a photo of the bay at sunset.
“I wanted you to have something to take with you,” she said, placing it in his hands. “So you don't forget.”
“Rach, I could never forget.” But Jack opened the scrapbook anyway, his throat tightening at what he saw.
The first page showed a photo from freshman year. He and Rachel were at one of his baseball games, her cheering from the stands with Cindy. She'd written beneath it in her careful handwriting. The day you pitched a no-hitter, and I finally understood what you loved about the game.
He turned the page. More photos. At homecoming with Rachel in a simple blue dress that had made his heart stop.
A candid shot of them studying in the library, her laughing at something he'd said.
Pictures from kayak trips on the bay, from beach campfires with friends, from prom last spring, where they'd danced until the music stopped.
Each page held a memory, and Rachel had added little notes beside them. Comments about what they'd been doing, inside jokes, and moments he'd almost forgotten but she'd preserved.
“This is the day you talked about your parents,” Jack said, pausing on a selfie of them sitting on this very beach.
Rachel's voice was thick with emotion. “You just held me and told me it didn't change how you felt. And you told me that you loved me.”
“It was true then.” Jack looked up at her. “It’s true now.”
He continued through the pages, each one a testament to the life they'd started together. Not just as boyfriend and girlfriend, but as best friends. As each other's safe place.
The last page held a photo from their graduation just a few weeks ago.
They stood together in their caps and gowns, Rachel's smile brilliant despite the fact that she'd started her freshman year feeling behind.
She worked twice as hard as everyone else to catch up from her year of mourning.
She'd done it through quiet determination.
Advanced classes, summer courses, a full load.
She'd graduated with their class, and Jack had never been more proud of anyone in his life.
Beneath the photo, she'd written one final note. We made it this far together. We'll make it the rest of the way too.
“Rachel.” Jack's voice came out rough. He set the scrapbook aside carefully and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight against his chest. “Thank you. This is perfect.”
She wrapped her arms around him, her face pressed against his shoulder. “I wanted you to remember. All of it. The good parts.”
“I remember all of it.” He stroked her hair, breathing her in. “Every single moment. Every laugh, every conversation, every time you trusted me enough to let me in.”
They sat like that for a long time, wrapped around each other as the sun painted the sky in shades of orange and pink. Jack felt the weight of the moment settling over them. This was it. Their last real time alone before everything changed.
“Tell me a story,” Rachel said softly. “About us.”
“What kind of story?”
“I don't know.” She nestled closer. “Something happy. Something that reminds me why we can do this.”
Jack thought for a moment, then smiled. “Remember when you first started coming to my games?”
Rachel's voice held a hint of amusement. “You kept looking up into the stands to see if I was watching.”
“I was too busy trying to find you.” Jack shook his head at the memory. “Coach almost pulled me.”
“But then you found me.”
“Yeah.” He could still see it perfectly. Rachel sat with Cindy, wearing his extra jersey, which was three sizes too big for her. When their eyes had met, she smiled and waved, and something in his chest had settled. “And then I pitched the best game of my life.”
“Because I was there?”
“Because you were there,” he confirmed. “Because knowing you were watching, that you cared, made me want to be better. To work harder. To prove I was worth your time.”
Rachel tilted her head up to look at him. “You never had to prove that. You were always worth my time.”
“Took me a while to believe that.” Jack traced patterns on her arm. “You were this incredible girl who'd survived things I couldn't even imagine. And I was just some kid who was good at throwing a ball.”
“You were never just some kid.” Rachel's voice was fierce. “You saved me, Jack. You showed me what it felt like to be chosen.”
Jack swallowed hard. “You saved me too.”
“I did?”