Chapter 38 The Turn
The Turn
The interior of the truck is quiet—too quiet.
Claire watches Jaxon in profile, his jaw relaxed, his hand steady on the wheel.
He’s calm, like he always is. Steady. Predictable.
And part of her loves that. The way nothing rattles him, the way he lets silence hang like it’s supposed to be there. But now? It’s unbearable.
She stares at him for a long moment, her heart full but her mind starting to drift.
Every thought of staying on the island plays like a reel in her head—images of mornings in his bed, sunsets on the dock, laughter over burgers.
She wonders if he’s thinking it too. If he’s building a world in his head where she’s part of it.
But deep down, she already knows the answer.
He won’t ask.
He’s too selfless for that. Too protective of her freedom to ever ask her to give it up for him.
And that truth stings more than she expected.
With each mile they drive, the island gets closer—and so does reality. Claire grips her thigh, fingers pressing into denim, her smile fading. She’s not thinking about the last two weeks. She’s thinking about the ticking clock. The way time moves faster when you’re dreading the end.
After all, in just fourteen days, Jaxon has treated her better than the man she gave years to.
She finally breaks the silence. “Can we ride around town a little before we go back to your house?”
Jaxon glances at the sky, then back at the road. “We could… but there’s a storm rolling in. I’ve got a better idea than dodging rain.”
She arches a brow. “Oh yeah? What’s your idea?”
He smirks. “You’ll see. It’s something I do every time it storms.”
That makes her laugh a little, easing the tension in her chest. She has no idea what it could be. Knowing him, it’s either something sweet and sentimental—or absolutely unhinged.
When they pull up to Jaxon’s house, Claire’s nerves creep in like fog under a door. She wasn’t thinking about it until now, but she’s not sure what the place will look like. She left the beach house in a hurry, and the girls have been here since.
The truck idles, and Jaxon reaches for the door handle.
Claire places a hand on his arm. “Jaxon… if your house is a mess, I’ll make sure they clean it before they leave.”
He chuckles. “It’s fine. I doubt they trashed the place.”
Still, her stomach knots. She can’t explain why she suddenly cares so much.
Jaxon grabs the luggage and they walk to the porch. Claire hesitates before he opens the door, bracing herself for chaos.
But when the door swings open, the house is spotless.
“Sara?” Claire calls out.
“Hey Claire. Hey Jax,” Sara says casually from the living room, flipping through a magazine like she lives there.
Claire blinks. “Did y’all clean?”
“Uh, yeah? Why?”
“I just… figured it would be a little messy.”
Sara smiles, saccharine sweet. “Nope. It’s the least we could do for him letting us stay.”
“Thanks,” Jaxon says, genuinely surprised. “And you did laundry?”
“We restocked the fridge, too,” Sara adds. “If this’ll be an everyday thing, who wants to get married?” she jokes.
“We could all fit in this house,” Taylor chimes from the kitchen.
Claire forces a laugh, but her jaw tightens.
“Okay, y’all stop,” she snaps.
Jaxon disappears upstairs to change while the girls gather on the couch. Claire hovers in the doorway, arms crossed.
“Do y’all have your bags packed?”
Macie raises an eyebrow. “Damn, Claire. You just walked in and you’re already kicking us out?”
Claire’s tone sharpens. “This isn’t your house, and I imagine Jaxon might want to settle in.”
Sara looks up slowly. “You haven’t forgotten this isn’t your house either, right?”
Claire opens her mouth, but nothing comes out.
“Every time someone talks to him,” Sara says, rising to her feet, “you get weird. Like you’re trying to mark territory.”
“That’s not—”
“If you want to be technical, we’ve spent more time here than you. So who should be the one leaving, exactly?”
Silence.
Sara heads upstairs to get her bag. The others exchange a look but don’t say a word. Claire stays standing, heart pounding, the weight of that moment pressing heavy on her chest.
Upstairs, Sara knocks gently.
“Yeah?” Jaxon calls from inside.
“Can you hand me my bag? I didn’t want to barge in.”
A few seconds later, he opens the door with her bag in hand.
She takes it—but he carries it downstairs himself.
“Thanks,” she says, watching him.
“No problem. Are y’all heading out?”
“Yeah. We’ve been here long enough.”
“You don’t have to rush. You’re always welcome.”
“It’s okay. We haven’t been back to the house in days.” She pauses. “Thank you for everything.”
He hugs her. She lingers for just a second too long.
“You coming tomorrow?” he asks.
“We’ll be here. I’m cooking.”
Claire hands over the house key, barely looking at her. As the girls step out onto the porch, Sara turns with a smile.
“See you tomorrow.”
The door shuts.
Claire watches it like it just said something she couldn’t.
“She only did that to get under my skin,” she mutters, but even she doesn’t sound convinced.