Page 55 of When We Are Complete

Kelly shifts beside me, her head tilting slightly as she studies me. “You and Jenny. Why did you two split up?”

I pause, unsure of how much to tell her. “Honestly? There was very little love between us—at least the kind that keeps you going through the rough patches. It was more about obligation. As you know, we got married because of Adele. We tried to make it work for her, went through the motions.” I glance over at her, hesitating. “But even from the start, Jenny knew my heart wasn’t all in. She knew it belonged somewhere else.”

A quiet stillness settles between us. Kelly’s gaze meets mine. “I get that,” she says finally, her voice soft. “You know, I tried to move on after you. After us. But it never felt right. Something was always missing.” She pauses, taking a breath. “It was as if no one else could fit. No one could fill the space you left behind.”

A pang of guilt and longing grips me. I reach over, my hand covering hers, squeezing gently. “I didn’t know. I mean, I figured you’d find someone who’d treat you how you deserved.” I shake my head. “You deserve the world Kelly. The entire world. I never wanted to hold you back, and I never wanted to be the reason you held back. I just wanted you to be happy.”

She gives a quiet, sad smile, eyes flickering down to our hands. “You left a mark on me. A permanent one. I didn’t realize how deep until I saw you at the wedding.”

I clear my throat, rubbing the back of my neck with my free hand. “If only I had a time machine.” I try to make a joke of it, but the truth stings. “I should’ve been more honest with you, with myself, back then.”

Kelly’s fingers squeeze mine. “Maybe we both should’ve. But I think we did the best we could with what we knew. We were kids.”

I feel the weight of all those years between us, the missed chances, the mistakes. I lift her hand to my lips, brushing a kiss across her knuckles, her skin soft against my mouth.

She leans into me, her head resting on my shoulder, and there’s that same sense of belonging we had all those years ago. Her fingers trace patterns on my chest, and I focus on that. We don’t need any more words, not right now. We’ve got something better—we’ve got this, her in my arms right where she belongs.

This second chance is a gift I’m not going to question.

And as sleep starts to pull at my consciousness, dragging me down into dreams I’m sure will be filled by her taste, her skin against mine, the wet heat of her, I make one silent promise: I’ll be there for her, I’ll always show up for her, as long as she needs me.

Chapter 31

Kelly

I parkin the shadow of the lighthouse, where I spot Jake’s truck alongside several others. The second I step out of my car, goosebumps break out over my arms. It’s barely afternoon and already the air’s got that bite.

There was a thin layer of frost and snow on the ground this morning, and more snow and bitterly cold weather are just around the corner. I pull my jacket tighter and grab my bag holding a notebook and a selection of pens, slide my cell into my pocket, and push on—because the mayor’s vision for Founder’s Day waits for no one, especially not me.

There’s a scent in the air that’s pure winter—pine and earth and a chill that says summer’s a memory now. But that knowledge only flames the determination inside. This is it, the home stretch, my chance to pull offthe biggest and bestfestival that Harbor’s Edge has ever seen. A chance to really make Mom proud.

I weave through the field, dodging stacks of timber and half-assembled structures. Jake’s crew is spread out, focused and efficient, moving between the wooden arches, eco-friendly designs, and wooden frames for the larger installations. The thrum of drills and the steady thud of hammers fill the crisp air, mixing with the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore.

One of the guys is up on a ladder, securing part of the main stage, while another is measuring out a space for a composting station. The solar-powered lights are being tested nearby, and as I look at the glowing bulbs, it hits me again how this is so much bigger than just a festival. It’s a statement. Everything we’re doing here—from the sustainable food stalls to the zero-waste policies—will show people what’s possible.

I pull out my cell and snap some photos, before catching sight of another team member fitting wooden seating together, the benches forming a perfect circle around the centerpiece bonfire pit.

The trees, bare branches swaying in the cold wind, frame the site perfectly. I take a deep breath, inhaling the cool air, and let myself bask in the moment. It’s hard to believe we’re so close to pulling this off—our marketing campaign is already in full swing, and interest in the event has been strong. This is exactly what Harbor’s Edge needed. Despite the looming threat of winter storms, everything is coming together.

My boots squelch against the damp ground as I walk around, taking more progress photos to show the mayor. And sure, there’s a part of me that knows I’m tempting fate by feeling so pleased with our progress. That same old fear tries to claw its way up my throat, worried about storms and disasters waiting to strike. But it’s easy to push those worries and anxieties aside when everything is going so well.

The wind kicks up and I’m so engrossed watching the team work that I don’t even notice Jake approaching until his shadow falls beside me. Glancing up, the sight of him stops me short.

He stands there, the wind tousling his dark hair. His hoodie is pulled snug across his broad shoulders, the fabric straining ever so slightly over the broad of his chest—muscles honed by hours of honest work.

His hands hang loose at his sides, but there’s an ease in his stance that makes my pulse quicken. There’s something about him that’s always felt solid, confident. He’s the kind of guy you could lean on, even if you never intended to.

Something jolts inside me. My heart’s forgotten how to beat for a second, before jumpstarting into an all-out race. It’s ridiculous, really—how after all these years, after everything, Jake Tanner can still stir something in me with just a glance. His eyes, dark and intense, lock onto mine, and for a moment, the whole world slows down. The hum of drills, the hammering, the wind—they all fade into the background, leaving just us.

“Hey,” he says, his voice low.

“Hey,” I manage, trying to keep my voice steady, though the buzz of energy between us is anything but calm. I tuck a wayward strand of hair behind my ear. “Looks like everything’s coming together. I’m just here to take some photos to include in my status report to the mayor and the rest of the committee.”

He scans the festival grounds. “The mayor should be happy with our progress. Any news on the storms that have been predicted?”

“Everyone’s waiting and watching and hoping for the best. There’s going to be snow and lots of it, but no one’s sure how bad the storms will be. At least, that’s what I heard on the grapevine at work. Patrick’s probably got more information than me.” I glance at my watch. “I better get back soon.”

“Walk you to your car?” he offers, and I nod because walking anywhere with Jake sounds a heck of a lot better than walking there alone.

---