Chapter 17 Just Us
Just Us
Most mornings, Claire lingered in the bath while she planned her day—less about the schedule and more about the rhythm. But today? There was no to-do list. No errands. No obligations.
There was only one plan.
And it involved Jax. Alone.
She wanted to see what it felt like. Not just to be near him—but to be near him without the noise. No friends. No teasing. No distractions. Just Jax, in his world, with no one watching.
Is he still the class clown when no one’s laughing?
Is he softer? Gentler?
Is he the same man I see when everyone else isn’t around?
As Claire dried her hair, her reflection caught her grinning. “Movie night,” she whispered to herself. “Just us.”
She sent him a text:
Claire: Movie night at your house? I’ll bring dinner.
The reply came quick.
Jax: Sounds perfect to me. Who’s coming?
She smiled.
Claire: Just me. I’ll be there around 7.
Downstairs, the girls were on the couch, half-watching TV and half-eavesdropping. When Claire mentioned her plans, they immediately perked up.
“Just you?” Macie smirked.
Sara grinned. “Maybe she’ll actually kiss him this time.”
Claire rolled her eyes. “I would’ve, if we didn’t have to come rescue your drunk asses.”
Taylor laughed from the kitchen. “Sounds like you’re going for the re-do.”
“Exactly,” Claire said, already thinking about what food to grab. But just as the thought passed, another crept in behind it.
We haven’t even kissed.
She paused.
What kind of man is that patient?
On the island, Jax sat at the edge of his dock, beer in hand, legs dangling just above the surface. The sky was painted in late-day gold, and the air was still except for the occasional hush of water kissing the shore.
His mind wasn’t quiet, though.
He kept thinking about her.
How they’d barely had any time truly alone. How every moment had been shared—surrounded by friends, chaos, laughter.
He didn’t mind. He loved her people. But tonight was different.
He wanted to see what she was like when it was just the two of them. No interruptions. No phone calls. No one needing a ride.
The first time she came to my house, he thought, I never even got to tell her why this place means so much to me.
He stood up and headed inside, unable to wait another second.
By 6:30, he’d showered and thrown on khaki shorts, a fitted T-shirt, and a clean pair of sneakers.
Comfortable—but intentional.
He looked at himself in the mirror and shook his head, chuckling under his breath. “You’re acting like you’ve never had a girl over before.”
But this one felt different.
At 6:57, he sat on the edge of the couch, flipping through Netflix but not watching a damn thing.
That’s around the time that he heard the crunching.
He jumped up at the sound of tires rolling over gravel. Peeking through the blinds, he saw the girls’ rental easing up the drive, turning around.
And there—standing outside, holding a bag from Tides Rising, was Claire.
Running shorts. Loose tee. Hair up.
Holy shit.
She looked like home.
He opened the door just as she started up the porch steps, her smile easy, her energy soft.
“Thank God,” he exhaled.
She raised a brow. “Are you that hungry?”
He grinned. “I am. But I was mostly worried you’d show up like you did for our first dinner—dressed to kill—and here I am, looking like I just finished mowing the lawn.”
She laughed. “Nope. Tonight you get the real me. No fancy dress. Just what I wear most nights when I’m at home.”
He stared for a beat too long before replying. “You look beautiful. Whether you’re in heels or could jog home.”
She held up the takeout. “Mike told me your favorite from the grill.”
“You’re already two steps ahead of me,” he said. “That’s my go-to when I get home late from town.”
Claire followed him inside, her heart thudding just loud enough for her to hear it.
This is it.
This is the version of him no one else sees.
And for the first time since meeting him…
She wasn’t nervous.
She was ready.