Chapter 71 Echoes of Her
Echoes of Her
He was hoping she’d step forward.
Just one more step. One more breath. One more inch closer, and it would’ve happened. But instead, he watches her leave—her silhouette slipping out of the fog like a temptation denied. The bathroom door clicks shut behind her, and Jaxon’s jaw ticks.
He exhales hard through his nose, turns off the water, and steps out of the shower. As steam clings to the mirror, he leans in close, gripping the edges of the vanity.
A slow, devilish grin curls across his lips. “That was a close one,” he mutters, like a man trying to convince himself he’s relieved she walked away.
He’s not.
He brushes his teeth in silence, but his thoughts are anything but quiet.
They riot. Rage. Rewind the last ten minutes on a loop that gets darker with each pass.
The way she stood there. The way her voice trembled.
The way she almost said everything he’s been dying to hear.
The truth of it sits on the tip of his tongue, unspoken and heavy.
By the time he climbs into bed, the storm outside is gone, but the one inside him is just getting started.
He lies on his back, staring at the ceiling fan as it spins slow and lazy—nothing like his thoughts. They’re spinning too, but they’re sharp. Fast. Dangerous.
What if I ask her to stay?
What if she says no?
What if she says yes, but only because she feels guilty? Or obligated? Or worse—what if she stays, but one day wakes up and realizes she made a mistake?
He turns to the side, sighing into the pillow.
"I can’t go through that again," he thinks. "I can’t lose my daughter. I can’t set fire to what we’ve built just to chase a maybe."
But then he thinks of her. Of Sara.
The way she laughed when Jaqueline smeared chocolate on her nose. The way her fingers felt curled into his on the porch swing. The way she looked at him—not like a man broken by his past, but like a man she could believe in.
Like home.
And damn it, that’s what she is.
Home.
“The truth is... I’m crazy about her,” he admits to the ceiling. “I’ve been lying to myself because if I don’t say it out loud, it’s not real. But it is. It’s so fucking real it hurts.”
He exhales hard.
"She challenges me. She doesn’t just nod and smile. She calls me out. She sees through the charm, the sarcasm, the armor. She sees me. And instead of running… she leans in."
His eyes shut tight.
"I could love this woman for the rest of my life and never get bored. Never want for anything else."
A pause.
"A hell of a thing to feel about someone you’ve never even kissed."
The irony of it all—how deeply he feels for her without ever tasting her lips—only makes him ache more. The restraint has been killing him. The hesitation. The distance she puts between them every time they get close. But he gets it. Claire is a ghost neither of them knows how to stop mourning.
But she’s not the woman who’s been chasing Jaqueline through the backyard.
Sara is.
And that has to mean something.
"I have to ask her to stay," he whispers to the dark. "But not like it’s a favor. Not like it’s something I need from her."
His brows pull together.
"No... I need to show her it’s a choice. Her choice. Not guilt. Not obligation. I don’t want her to stay because of Jaqueline. I want her to stay because of me. Because she wants this. Wants us."
He rolls to his side, eyes heavy but mind wide awake.
“I have to figure out how to tell her that… without losing everything in the process.”
Jaxon and Jaqueline are sitting on the dock, watching the water lap quietly at the posts. He’s explaining how the tide pulls at the sand, reshapes it over time. How it’s both destruction and creation all at once. His voice is calm, but his thoughts are anything but.
Footsteps echo along the dock. Steady. Measured.
He doesn’t look up—until they stop halfway down.
And when he does… he forgets how to breathe.
Claire.
She’s just standing there, like she never left. Eyes steady. Smile soft. She looks over his shoulder, back toward the house.
When he glances at the back deck, Sara is coming out. She is walking toward them, slow and hesitant. The breeze catches her hair. The sun halos around her.
He turns back. Claire’s gaze has shifted.
To Jaqueline.
Then to Sara.
Then to him.
No words. Just eyes that say everything.
Claire’s smile is bittersweet—like she sees what this is. What it could be. What it already is.
And in a blink… she’s gone.
Jaxon’s eyes fly open. He bolts upright in bed, sweat slick across his head, heart thundering in his chest.
He stumbles into the bathroom and splashes cold water on his face, then grips the sink, panting.
When he finally looks up, his reflection is calm. Steady. Decided.
“I know what I have to do.”
This time, he won’t hesitate.
This time, he’ll fight.