Page 36 of Fixing Up My Love Life

CHAPTER 14

Jack

Idon’t usually get nervous in front of a crowd. I’ve pitched million-dollar investments and negotiated contracts with people twice my age. But standing on the side of the stage at the Twin Waves Summer Splash Festival, heart pounding like I just sprinted the boardwalk, I know this is different.

This time, it’s not about money. It’s about Hazel. And making things right.

The festival is a tradition that kicks off every July with all the charm, heat, and fun of summer on the North Carolina coast. The salty air is thick with the scent of fried shrimp and funnel cake, and the boardwalk hums with laughter, drawling conversations, and the occasional wail of a toddler denied a second snow cone.

I pace behind the stage, near Hazel and Amber chatting, but they haven’t spotted me yet. Hazel and her girls are helping Amber at her booth, where locals have set up shop selling hand-painted sea glass and fresh lemonade.

Amber’s offering peach cobbler in mini mason jars and homemade sweet tea, using her grandmother’s recipe that’s been passed down for generations.

Ellen is wearing a new mermaid dress and helping herself to free samples. Hazel watches her girls with a wistful sort of pride, her hair pulled into a messy bun and sunglasses pushed up on her head.

The heat presses down like a wet towel, but no one seems to mind—not when there’s live music and watermelon slices chilling in buckets of ice. The announcer, voice rich with coastal North Carolina twang, booms over the speaker system: “Y’all stick around, because we got a real special treat coming up in just a few!”

Hazel fans herself with a flyer. “Any idea what that means?”

“Probably the kids’ dance group again,” Amber says, adjusting her apron. “Or maybe the mayor’s cousin singing some off-key karaoke again.”

Hazel chuckles. “Poor man tried to sing George Strait last year and nearly gotbooed off the stage.”

The music cuts, and the announcer steps up to the microphone.

“Folks, we got someone who wants to say a few words. You may know him as the man who’s been causing a stir renovating some of the finest homes in town. Y’all give it up for Twin Waves native Mr. Jackson Sanders.”

My stomach tightens. Public speaking? No problem. Confessing a decade-old heartbreak and risking everything in front of the woman I never stopped loving? That’s another matter.

But I step onto the stage anyway.

The sun’s in my eyes and the crowd’s a blur—but my gaze settles on her.

“Hey, everyone,” I say, keeping my voice steady. “I’ll keep this short because I know there’s a pie-eating contest starting in twenty. But I wanted to share a little news.”

A few chuckles ripple through the crowd.

“I’ve spent the last few months working on something close to my heart. It’s still early, but I’m excited to finally share it.”

I nod toward the mayor, who steps forward and holds up a large, glossy sketch of the master plan.

“I’m building a place called Buccaneer Bay. Just past the dunes. Think pirate cabins, glamping villas,lazy rivers, fire pits, treasure hunts, and a mini golf course. A spot where families can come to slow down, reconnect, and make memories.”

A few folks whistle. A mom claps with her toddler on her hip.

I swallow, nerves kicking in harder than before. This part’s personal.

“I know what you’re thinking. What’s a guy like me, who’s never stayed in one place for too long, doing planting roots in Twin Waves? Truth is, I’ve been running a long time. From hard memories. From good ones. From the chance to build something that lasts.”

I glance at Hazel again, my voice softening.

“Hazel once told me she wanted a place where her girls could grow up slowly. With sunshine and second chances. That stuck with me, so I built one.”

The crowd quiets.

“That busted sink in the Hensley House? That was nothing compared to the leaks in my own heart I’ve been ignoring for years.”

More laughter, softer this time.

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