Chapter 74 The Next Chapter
The Next Chapter
The evening air buzzed with conversation and comfort, the way only a house full of old friends and deep roots can feel.
The smell of Cajun shrimp and grits lingered through the open windows, teasing the breeze, while laughter spilled out from every corner of the yard.
Somehow, the guys had convinced Sara to cook their favorite dish again—something she pretended to groan about but secretly loved.
For once, Jaxon wasn’t at the grill. For once, he was part of it all.
He sat back in his chair with Carter and Trevor, their legs stretched out, beers in hand, watching the chaos of their kids running wild through the yard.
His eyes followed Jaqueline like a tide trailing its moon, not overbearing—but tethered.
She and her best friend were thick as thieves, always one giggle away from disaster.
“Who knew they’d be that close?” Jaxon asked, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Trevor smirked. “Apple. Tree.”
Jaxon laughed, deep and genuine, the kind that fills your chest and makes you grateful for things you didn’t even know you had.
The women emerged from the house carrying plates, teasing the boys about being spoiled. Sara didn’t serve the guys anymore—said they had two feet and working hands. She flashed Jaxon a look that made his beer taste sweeter, made the whole damn day feel warmer.
“Still looks as good as the first time she made it,” Trevor said, digging in.
“Can’t believe she did back then,” Jaxon added, glancing at Jaqueline.
“She likes cooking,” Jaqueline piped up, her voice proud, like she was revealing a family secret.
Talk turned to the business. Sara gave a quick rundown—the new island location was slower than expected, but she wasn’t worried. Atlanta was booming, and they still made their monthly trips back to check in. It was working. All of it. Somehow, they’d found a rhythm.
And yet, there was nothing ordinary about any of it.
Not this porch.
Not this food.
Not this life.
The kids asked to be excused. The grown-ups leaned back, full plates turned into full hearts. And as they laughed, Jaxon thought—this is the version of life I used to beg for in the dark. This is the one I thought I’d never have.
The sun had dipped and the house had settled into that post-dinner quiet, broken only by the clatter of dishes in the sink. Jaxon stood elbow-deep in soap suds, glancing at Sara as she wiped down the counter.
“Want to dry while I wash?” he asked.
“Just toss them in the dishwasher.”
“It’s only a few,” he shrugged. “No point letting them sit for days.”
“Fine,” she said, grabbing a towel. “But you’re still washing.”
He bumped her shoulder with his, playfully.
She smacked his ass with the dish towel, grinning.
Flirtation turned into chaos in the blink of an eye. He flicked water at her. She gasped like he’d crossed a sacred line. When he laughed—hard, eyes closed, head back—she grabbed a cup and filled it to the brim. The moment his eyes opened, she dumped it straight over his head.
Laughter roared.
Then Jaqueline appeared like a chaos magnet, joining in with shrieks of joy. Water war broke out in full force—spoons used as splash weapons, cups launched like grenades, the floor slick beneath their feet. They slipped, slid, screamed.
And for a second—a precious, blinking second—it was just them. No past. No pain. Just a family, soaked to the bone in something that felt like joy.
When it ended, breathless and dripping, Sara and Jaqueline went to shower while Jaxon stayed behind to clean the wreckage. He knelt on the soaked tile, wiping puddles with a towel, and smiled.
It was stupid. It was simple. It was everything.
This is what I wanted, he thought. Not the big wins. Not the applause. Just this.
The quiet after chaos.
The feeling of belonging.
Upstairs, the house was still humming.
Jaxon reached the top step with a towel wrapped around his waist and a soaked T-shirt sticking to his back. Jaqueline stood in the hallway, waiting like she always did, her eyes heavy with sleep and her smile wide.
“What are you wearing, Daddy?”
“I didn’t want to drip everywhere,” he said. “You don’t like my dress? I thought purple really made my eyes pop.”
She giggled—those late-night, loopy, I-love-my-life kind of giggles—and crawled into bed without protest.
Sara appeared, fresh and soft and glowing from the water fight.
She slipped in beside them. Jaxon picked up the book—her book, the same one every night.
His voice found its rhythm, low and slow.
Sara didn’t need to read it anymore—she’d memorized every line just from hearing him.
But still, she leaned in, eyes on the page like the ending might be different.
He glanced over, and there she was—watching him, not the book.
Jaqueline fell asleep somewhere around page four. They both kissed her forehead and pulled the blanket up under her chin before quietly backing out of the room.
Outside the door, Sara whispered, “We redid her room. We gave her a whole library corner. And she still asks for that book.”
Jaxon smiled, eyes misting. “I know every word by heart.”
“So do I,” she said. “But I wouldn’t change it.”
“I’ll read that story until the pages fall apart,” he whispered. “Because it gave me an ending I didn’t think I’d get.”
Sara looked up at him, heart in her throat. “It’s not the ending, Jax.”
He nodded, his hand sliding into hers.
“No,” he said softly. “It’s just the next chapter.”