Chapter 9
Four Years Ago
Rachel walked across the grass in the cemetery, staying in the background. The crowd gathered at the gravesite was large, a testament to the man being laid to rest today. George had been beloved in Baytown, known for his gruff exterior and soft heart.
It was easy for her gaze to land on Jack. He stood tall and dignified in his dress uniform. But then, her gaze would have found him no matter what he was wearing. The magnetism between them was still strong.
They were burying George, a man whom Jack considered to be like a beloved grandfather.
Rachel had loved spending time at the Hudson house during high school, and George had always been there.
Delightful, funny, eccentric. He'd tell stories about his younger days, offer unsolicited advice about everything from cars to romance, and always loved the desserts Rachel would bring once she realized what a sweet tooth he had.
And now he was gone. Passed away quietly in his sleep last week.
Her gaze raked over Jack as he stood at the front of the gathering, his face solemn.
Even from a distance, Rachel could see the grief etched in the set of his shoulders and the tight line of his jaw.
He'd flown from California for the funeral, and she knew he must be exhausted from the jet lag, time changes, and grief.
Rachel had planned to stay in the back, pay her respects quietly, and slip away before Jack noticed her. But as though he felt the same magnetism she had, he turned, and his eyes found hers across the crowd.
For a moment, neither of them moved. Then Jack started walking toward her, weaving through the other mourners with purpose.
Rachel's heart hammered in her chest, and her feet stayed rooted to the grass as Jack approached. When he reached her, he didn't say anything at first. Just looked at her with his intense gaze that still made her breath catch. Then he lifted his hand.
Rachel never thought to deny the gesture. Her hand slipped into his as easily as breathing, and the familiar warmth of his palm against hers made her chest ache. It was so achingly familiar. Like coming home.
She pushed those thoughts away as he led her over to where Carrie and Colt greeted mourners. Carrie smiled warmly when she saw Rachel, and she pulled her into a tight hug.
“Rachel, honey. Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.” Rachel hugged her back, breathing in Carrie's familiar perfume. “George was special. I wanted to be here.”
Colt nodded her way, his expression gentle despite the grief in his eyes. He pulled her in for a brief hug, the kind that said she was part of their family, even if time and distance had complicated things between her and Jack.
Colt and Carrie's younger children hovered nearby. Carson and Beth were now in elementary school. George had also been their stand-in grandfather.
Rachel hugged them both, offering quiet condolences about George no longer being with them. Beth shifted over to Rachel and held her hand. Carson looked up at her with tearful eyes, and she offered him a little smile.
The normalcy of it struck her. Standing here with Jack's family, being folded into their grief, she felt like she belonged.
She had once been part of this family. Had spent countless dinners at their table and countless weekends in their home.
Had imagined a future when she'd officially join them through marriage.
But life had other plans.
After the burial, Rachel and Jack slipped away from the wake at his parents’ house. Neither of them suggested it out loud, but when their eyes met across the crowded living room, they both understood. They needed to talk. Alone.
He drove them to their beach.
The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the water as they sat beside each other on the sand. For a long time, neither spoke. Just sat in silence, watching the waves roll in and out, the familiar rhythm soothing the raw edges of the day.
“I'm sorry about George,” Rachel said finally.
Jack's voice was rough. “He was a good man. One of the best I've known.”
“He loved you. Talked about you all the time.”
He nodded, jaw tight. “I should have made sure he knew how important he was to me. How much I cared for him.”
“He knew you loved him. That's what mattered.”
They lapsed into silence again. The air between them felt heavy with all the things they weren't saying and all the years that had passed since they'd been alone together like this.
“It gets chilly out here,” Rachel said, wrapping her arms around herself as the breeze picked up. “Do you want to come back to my apartment? I can make us something to eat and drink.”
Jack looked at her, surprise and hope warring in his expression. “Yeah. I'd like that.”
Her apartment was small but cozy, the top floor of an older house that had been converted into rentals.
She led Jack upstairs and unlocked the door, suddenly self-conscious about the space.
It was nothing fancy. A tiny kitchen, a living area with a worn couch and bookshelf, and a small bedroom and bathroom through the door next to the living room.
“It's not much,” she said, setting her keys on the counter.
“It's you.” Jack's voice was soft. “It feels like you.”
She busied herself in the kitchen, pulling out bread and cheese for sandwiches and pouring glasses of sweet tea. Jack sat at the small table, and she felt the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.
When she finally sat down across from him, handing him a plate, their fingers brushed. That simple contact sent electricity up her arm, and from the way Jack's breath caught, he felt it too.
They ate in silence at first, but gradually, their conversation began to flow. Rachel told him about her first years of teaching in Williamsburg, about the challenges and rewards of working with teenagers. She caught him up on Shiloh and Joseph and their new children.
“Are you back here? For good?” he asked.
She nodded. “As soon as a position at Baytown High School opened up. It felt like time to come home.”
Jack didn’t seem surprised.
“I missed Baytown. Missed being close to Shiloh and Joseph and their kids.” She shrugged. “This is home.”
Jack nodded slowly. “I get that. I've been all over the world, but nothing feels like home the way this place does.”
As they talked, Rachel felt the familiar ease settling between them.
This was what she'd missed most. Not just the physical attraction, though that still simmered under the surface.
But the comfort of being with someone who knew her.
Who understood where she came from and what she'd survived. Who’d looked at her with such love in his eyes.
When the food was gone and the tea glasses empty, they moved to the couch. Jack sat at one end, Rachel at the other, a careful distance between them.
But as they continued talking, that distance slowly closed. He shifted closer. Her hand somehow ended up near his on the cushion between them. Their fingers brushed, then tangled, and suddenly, they were kissing.
It wasn't gentle or tentative. It was desperate and hungry and full of the years they'd spent apart. Rachel's hands fisted in Jack's uniform jacket, pulling him closer, and his arms came around her, holding her like he'd never let go.
They fell back onto the couch, mouths fused, hands exploring familiar territory. Jack's weight pressed her into the cushions, and Rachel wrapped her legs around his waist, needing him closer, needing to erase the distance and time and hurt.
“Rachel,” Jack breathed against her neck. “God, I've missed you.”
“Don't talk.” She pulled his mouth back to hers. “Just kiss me.”
Clothes came off in a fumbling rush. Jack's uniform jacket, Rachel's cardigan, his shirt, her blouse. They stumbled toward the bedroom, kissing and touching, leaving a trail of discarded fabric across the apartment.
When they finally tumbled onto her bed, skin against skin, she felt tears prick her eyes. This felt right… like coming home after a long trip. Whatever complications waited outside this room, whatever reasons they'd had for staying apart, none of it mattered at this moment.
Jack made love to her with a tenderness that broke her heart. Every touch was reverent, every kiss a promise. He whispered her name like a prayer, and Rachel clung to him, memorizing the feel of his body against hers, the sound of his breathing, and the way he looked at her like she was everything.
Afterward, they lay tangled together in the sheets, Rachel's head on Jack's chest, his fingers trailing patterns on her bare shoulder. The room was dark now, lit only by the streetlight filtering through the curtains.
And that was when reality came crashing back.
Rachel lifted her head to look at Jack, and in his eyes, she saw the same knowledge that was settling like lead in her stomach.
Jack's expression crumpled. Sadness filled his eyes, confirming what she already knew. “I fly back tomorrow.”
“I know.” Rachel sat up. “You need to be with your family before you go.”
It was the truth, and they both understood it. Carrie would need all her kids close as they processed George's death. Jack's flight left early in the morning, which meant this was all the time they had.
This was all they'd ever have. Stolen moments between deployments and duty. Brief encounters that left them both aching for more. It was everything, yet it wasn’t enough. Not really.
“I'll always care for you,” Rachel said as they dressed, both moving slowly, reluctant to break the spell.
Pain moved over Jack’s face as he paused, his shirt half-buttoned. “I wasn’t using you, Rach.”
“I know,” she rushed to say. “What we just shared was just a reaction to the grief today. Or maybe even a walk down memory lane for old times’ sake.” A heavy sigh left her lungs as she blinked back the tears that threatened to fall. “But no more, Jack. It just hurts too much to watch you leave.”
Now it was his turn to sigh heavily as he nodded, his gaze pinned on her. “I don't know when I'll get out of the Navy,” Jack admitted, his voice rough. “I don't know when I can give you what you deserve. A real relationship. A future. Home.”
Rachel nodded. She'd known that was his first duty. And she understood. Respected it, even. But understanding didn't make it hurt less.
“I know,” she said softly. “And I'm not asking you to choose. I would never ask that. But Jack, I’m living my life my way and for me. I’m not waiting for you to come home or putting my heart on hold for someday that might never come.”
They stood at her door, fully dressed now, the intimacy of moments ago already feeling like a dream. Jack reached out and cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing away tears she hadn't realized were falling.
“I love you,” he said. “That's never going to change.”
“I love you too.” Rachel's voice broke. “But love isn't always enough, is it?”
Jack slowly shook his head, then bent to kiss her tenderly. A goodbye kiss that tasted of salt and sorrow. “Goodbye, Rachel.”
“Goodbye, Jack.”
She watched him walk down the stairs, then drive away, his taillights disappearing into the night.
And as she closed the door and leaned against it, Rachel knew with absolute certainty that she needed to build a life that didn't revolve around the unpredictable Jack Hudson.
Even if her heart would always belong to the boy who'd saved her all those years ago on the first day of school.