Chapter 7 Barefoot Beginnings
Barefoot Beginnings
The girls pulled off the main road and into a dim, gravel lot that looked more like the opening scene of a horror film than a casual hangout. There were no lights—just moonshine and shadows, the occasional flicker of firelight somewhere beyond the dunes.
From the backseat, Taylor leaned up like she was about to file a complaint. “Where the hell are we? This looks like how every true crime podcast starts.”
“Relax,” Sara said, sliding out of the SUV like she’d just won a backstage pass to something scandalous. “It’s fine. If we get murdered, at least we’ll go out looking hot.”
Jaxon and the guys had already hopped out of the truck and were waiting by the trailhead, casual as ever.
After a minute, Jaxon stepped up to the SUV, knocked gently on Claire’s window.
She rolled it down to the sight of that same crooked smile—the one that got him out of airport awkwardness and apparently into all kinds of trouble.
“Y’all come on,” he said. “It’s just over the dunes. You can already hear ‘em laughing, right? Fire’s going. You’ll love it.”
Claire hesitated, just for a breath. Then rolled the window back up and opened the door.
Taylor blinked. “What just happened?”
Macie smirked. “She’s gone, y’all. That smile broke whatever defenses she had left.”
As the girls met the guys at the base of the trail, Macie leaned in to Claire. “Okay, I gotta ask—what made you get out of that SUV? This is giving murdery woods energy.”
Claire shrugged, almost shy. “I don’t know. It should’ve felt sketchy. But near Jaxon? I just felt... safe. Like I didn’t need to overthink it.”
Macie raised a brow. “That’s either really sweet or how every Dateline episode starts.”
Claire laughed, rolling her eyes as the group made their way over the dune. And then—everything changed.
“Check this out,” Jaxon said softly.
They crested the ridge, and suddenly the world opened.
A wide, sloping beach stretched out below, the tide licking the sand in rhythm with the wind.
Firelight flickered ahead, painting golden strokes across faces and waves alike.
Beyond the flames, the water shimmered with moonlight so sharp, it looked like it had been carved out of glass.
Claire’s breath hitched. “This is… beautiful.”
Jaxon looked at her, not the view. “If you think this is beautiful… wait until I show you my favorite spot.”
She met his eyes and smiled. “I can’t wait.”
They joined the circle of people already gathered—some locals, a few tourists, all with drinks in hand and stories spilling louder than the ocean. Carter and Trevor dropped the cooler next to the fire like it was sacred cargo, cracking open beers like they were kicking off a ritual.
“Come on, take a seat,” Carter said, grinning at Sara, who somehow already had a drink in hand and was raising it to her lips like she’d been born there.
Claire ended up beside Jaxon—of course—and as the fire popped and laughter rolled down the beach, they sat shoulder to shoulder, knee to knee, like they had all the time in the world.
The drinks kept coming. So did the jokes. At one point, Trevor tried to dance to music that wasn’t even playing, and Carter joined him without hesitation. It was terrible. It was glorious. It made everyone laugh harder than they had all week.
But amidst the chaos, the stolen glances between Claire and Jaxon kept deepening—longer, heavier, filled with unspoken curiosity neither of them knew how to voice.
After nearly an hour, Jaxon leaned in, his lips grazing her ear just enough to send a shiver down her spine.
“Wanna go for a walk?”
She smiled, nodding.
They stood quietly, breaking from the group without a word. As they walked along the shoreline, the laughter behind them faded, replaced by the hush of the ocean and the heavy beat of something unspoken.
Claire glanced back. “They’re all staring at us.”
Jaxon smirked. “Let ’em.”
“You think they knew this was going to happen?”
“Oh, definitely. You and I were giving ‘slow-burn main character energy’ from the jump.”
She laughed, eyes flicking to his. “You’re not wrong.”
They kept walking, barefoot now, shoes in hand, each step sinking slightly into the damp sand. Jaxon’s voice dropped, softer now, real.
“I want to know,” he said.
Claire turned her head. “Know what?”
“Everything about you.”
She didn’t answer at first. Just smiled, lips parting with surprise. No one ever said that. Not like that. Not with that much weight.
Jaxon didn’t wait for her to reply.
“I mean it. We talked on that flight, and I left like a damn idiot thinking it was just some passing moment. Then I walk into my spot—like always—and there you are. You don’t think that’s… I don’t know, something?”
Claire shrugged, but it was full of light. “You said you don’t live far from Wilmington. I didn’t realize our beach house was this close. It’s odd. But yeah… here we are.”
They kept walking, conversation spilling easy now—jobs, family, music, favorite foods, dumb stories from high school.
Claire told him about the time she tried to cut her own bangs and ended up looking like a lawnmower got hold of her forehead.
Jaxon shared about getting his truck stuck on the beach his first summer and having to call his sister for help—which she still brought up at every family dinner.
They laughed. A lot. And by the time Jaxon looked up and saw the sign for the 69th Street beach access, his brows shot up.
“Damn. We walked almost a mile.”
“Time flies when you’re charming,” she teased.
“I think you mean when you’re charming,” he countered.
They turned around, walking back slower now. Neither one in a hurry to break the spell.
But as the fire came back into view, Jaxon’s mood shifted slightly. The memory of the airport crept in, bitter and stubborn.
I can’t let tonight end the way Wednesday did.
They rounded the dunes to the sound of Taylor’s voice calling out. “We were about to send a search party! Y’all good?”
Claire laughed. “We got caught up talking. Didn’t realize how far we walked.”
“Some of the people here are heading out. Maybe we should too,” Carter offered, already pulling keys from his pocket.
Jaxon turned to Claire as the group began gathering their things. His voice was quieter now, more serious.
“I don’t want to end things like we did at the airport.”
Claire looked up, her expression open. “I agree.”
A beat. Then—
“Can I call you tomorrow?” she asked.
Jaxon blinked. She asked.
“Well,” he said, that grin tugging at his mouth, “you’ve got my number. Call anytime.”
She started toward the SUV, and he watched her go—each step sinking a little deeper than the last.
This time?
He wasn’t letting her be the one who got away.