Page 10 of When We Are Complete

Standing there, phone in hand, staring at me.

I haven’t seen him in over ten years, but here he is—broader now, more filled out, but still every bit as handsome as the guy who broke my heart. His dark hair is a little longer than I remember, and his jaw is covered in just enough scruff to give him a slightly rough-around-the-edges look.

And his eyes—those deep, dark eyes—lock onto mine, and something shifts in the air between us. Time has added muscle to his frame, made his shoulders wider, but there’s still something undeniablyJakeabout him.

“Kelly. Is that really you?” He blinks, surprise transforming his rugged features into something softer, more vulnerable.

“Hey, Jake.” His name feels strange on my lips, a song I forgot I knew the words to. Suddenly I’m flustered, heat rising up my chest despite the cold. “Uh, I didn’t mean to intrude. Just getting something for Emmy.”

“Right.” His gaze lingers before he tears his eyes away, focusing on anything but me.

“Guess I should—” I start, but the words die in my throat, swallowed by the sudden tension between us. A decade of things unsaid hangs heavy as the coastal fog that rolls off Little Egg Harbor in the winter, thick and impossible to ignore.

“Good seeing you,” I finally say.

“Likewise.” His voice is rough.

I walk to the door, reach for the handle, willing this uncomfortable reunion to be over, only to face the awful reality that sometimes things close and they just won’t be reopened, no matter how much you wish it wasn’t true.

I try to turn the handle again, but it doesn’t budge. A cold lump forms in my stomach—I jiggle the handle, harder this time, but it won’t budge. “It’s locked.” Panic laces my voice.

Jake steps forward, uncomfortably close, his brow furrowed. Stupid, stuck door. His scent hits me first—wood shavings, caramel, salt air, something that feels too familiar for comfort. My breath catches in my throat as he reaches out to give the door a try, his arm brushing against mine. The contact is electric, a spark that shoots straight through me.

I meant to avoid him tonight. And now, here we are, inches apart, the same tension simmering between us as if no time has passed at all.

My stomach twists as I stand there. It’s impossible to look at him now without remembering—how one night when we’d broken things off, he’d tried to find comfort somewhere else, with someone else. We got back together, and I thought we’dfinally gotten it right, only to have my dreams of us shattered the moment I learned about Jenny, about the baby.

It’s a cruel irony, really. The right man, wrong timing—some sick joke the universe played, dangling him in front of me only to snatch him away. He was good in all the ways that mattered, but that goodness tore us apart: a man who did the right thing even when it broke my heart.

I can’t help but glance at his face—those strong, angular features. He still looks like the Jake I fell for all those years ago, but his features have sharpened and weathered. And it only makes him look even more handsome.

My pulse quickens, and I will myself to stay composed, to not let him see how his nearness affects me. But the memories flood back—of the way he’d hold me, kiss me, how he made me feel perfect, loved, and how he shattered all of that with just a few words. The hurt from that heartbreak stirs beneath the surface, mixing with the heat between us.

Jake curses softly under his breath, still focused on the door. I should step back, put some distance between us. But I can’t move. My body remembers something my mind is desperate to forget. And for one unbearable moment, I wonder if he feels it, too.

“It’s locked. I can’t get it open.”

No. Just no. I can’t be stuck up here with him.

I lean forward and bang my fist against the door. “Hey! Can someone hear us? We’re stuck out here.” I knock again, harder this time. But the band downstairs has started up, and it drowns out everything.

Jake pulls out his phone. The first call goes straight to voicemail, and the second rings and rings before cutting off. He glances at me and types out a quick text and then another. “I’ve texted a couple of the guys.” A resigned shrug. “We’ll just have to wait till someone checks their cell.”

He slips the phone into his pocket, brow furrowed.

I try banging on the door again, my heart racing with frustration, but it’s no use. It remains stubbornly shut, and the realization sinks in that no one below will hear us. For a second, I stand there, quiet dread settling in.

We’re stuck. Just the two of us.

“Great.” Laughter bubbles out, hollow in my throat as I take a step back. “Trapped. With you. How’s that for irony? The one person I was determined to avoid tonight.”

“Kelly—” His tone carries a note I can’t quite place.

“Save it. It’s freezing and my brain’s not up for puzzles, especially not theuskind.” My breath clouds white in the air between us. “Let’s just focus on getting back inside.” I wrap my arms around myself and scan the terrace for another way out.

Jake runs a hand through his hair, a gesture so frustratingly familiar it flips something in my chest. When we first started dating, another lifetime ago, he’d do it every time, right before he’d lean down and kiss me. “Any bright ideas?”

“Working on it,” I say, turning away.

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