Chapter 13 One Night, Two Hearts
One Night, Two Hearts
As Jaxon and Claire made their way to Tides Rising, Claire sat in quiet awe. The interior of the truck glowed with soft moonlight, the dash lights casting shadows across Jaxon’s face like something out of a dream she wasn’t ready to wake from.
She couldn’t stop staring.
How could someone like him—this grounded, steady, impossibly thoughtful man—be interested in a girl from Atlanta, only here for two weeks?
As if he felt her eyes on him, Jaxon glanced over.
Claire quickly turned her head, pretending to adjust the air vent.
“So,” she blurted, “what’s the story behind this truck? You cut Trevor off last time he tried to tell it.”
Jaxon chuckled. “Because Trevor likes to make his version sound better than mine.”
“And what’s the real version?”
He paused before answering, his voice softer now.
“Growing up, there was a man close to my dad. He owned a finance company in town and became a mentor to me. Took me under his wing. Taught me how to manage money, how to help people—not just sell to them. We were like family.”
Claire glanced at him, quietly taking in every word.
“He bought this truck for himself when he retired. Said it was his ‘victory lap.’ When he passed last year, his wife told me he left it to me in his will. Said it was his way of thanking me for always showing up—for him, for them.”
Claire’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Wow. That’s… beautiful.”
He just nodded, gripping the wheel a little tighter.
“It’s rare,” she added. “For someone to mean that much to someone else.”
“You don’t forget people like that,” Jaxon said simply.
As they pulled into the Tides Rising lot, Claire spotted the girls outside the SUV, all varying degrees of tipsy. Jaxon parked, and Claire jumped out, heading toward them.
From the cab, he watched her motion for him to join them. He stepped out, hands in his pockets, easy smile on his lips.
“Hello again, ladies,” he said, grinning. “I hear y’all had a hell of a night.”
Claire exhaled, clearly irritated. “Apparently, tonight isn’t over.”
“We lost the keys,” Sara mumbled, mascara slightly smudged.
“I’m so glad the house key wasn’t on that ring,” Macie slurred, voice echoing louder than necessary.
Jaxon glanced at the girls, then at the restaurant, then back at Claire. “Hang tight. I’ll be right back.”
A few minutes passed. Claire was still low-key lecturing the girls when Jaxon returned.
“Alright, here’s the deal,” he said, hands clapping together. “I talked to Mike. He’ll check for the keys when he closes down at two. If he finds them, he’ll let me know. In the meantime, I’m not leaving y’all out here for three hours.”
Claire opened her mouth to protest, but he cut her off with a smile.
“You didn’t ask. I’m offering. Let me take you back. If the keys show up, I’ll pick you up in the morning and bring you back. Now—” he opened the passenger door—“hop in.”
Claire blinked. “I’m sorry you have to do this, but thank you.”
Jaxon shrugged, grin still in place. “More time with you? Doesn’t sound like a bad deal.”
The ride back to Caswell was quiet, save for the occasional whisper, snort, or drunken giggle from the backseat.
As they passed the Welcome to Caswell Beach sign, Claire leaned over and gave him directions. When they pulled into the driveway, Jaxon parked and glanced at the house.
“Nice place.”
“Thank you,” Claire said with a smile. “My grandfather built it just before retiring. It’s been in our family ever since.”
She turned to the backseat. “Alright, girls. Out.”
There were no words. Just a symphony of grunts, thuds, and what might’ve been a burp from Sara as the girls spilled out and shuffled toward the porch.
Claire went to grab the door handle—but paused. With her other hand, she reached over and took Jaxon’s hand, still resting on the console.
He looked at her, eyes soft.
“Thank you, Jaxon. Really. You didn’t have to do all this. I’m sorry our night got hijacked by chaos, but… can I see you again tomorrow?”
His thumb brushed across the back of her hand.
“You kind of have to,” he whispered. “How else are you gonna get back to the SUV?”
Claire laughed and leaned in, pressing a kiss to his cheek before slipping out of the truck. As she reached the steps, his voice called out one more time—
“By the way… you can call me Jax.”
She turned, smiling like her heart had been caught midair. “Goodnight, Jax.”
An hour later, Claire lay in bed, the house finally quiet—save for the occasional drunken snore from the guest room.
The night replayed behind her eyes like a movie reel.
That dock.
That kiss on the cheek.
That story about the truck.
That moment… where he described the kind of love he wanted.
She repeated it over and over in her head like her favorite line in a song—each syllable more dangerous than the last.
A love like the tide and the sand.
Ever-changing. Always returning.
A love that stripped away what didn’t belong and left behind everything beautiful.
Claire pulled the blanket tighter around her, staring at the ceiling like it held some kind of answer.
“I can’t believe this man… this man I just met… is making me feel like I’m a teenager all over again.”
And the crazy part?
She didn’t want the feeling to end.