“I'm sorry about George,” Rachel said finally.
Jack's voice was rough. “He was a good man. One of the best I've known.”
“He loved you. Talked about you all the time.”
He nodded, jaw tight. “I should have made sure he knew how important he was to me. How much I cared for him.”
“He knew you loved him. That's what mattered.”
They lapsed into silence again. The air between them felt heavy with all the things they weren't saying and all the years that had passed since they'd been alone together like this.
“It gets chilly out here,” Rachel said, wrapping her arms around herself as the breeze picked up. “Do you want to come back to my apartment? I can make us something to eat and drink.”
Jack looked at her, surprise and hope warring in his expression. “Yeah. I'd like that.”
Her apartment was small but cozy, the top floor of an older house that had been converted into rentals. She led Jack upstairs and unlocked the door, suddenly self-conscious about the space. It was nothing fancy. A tiny kitchen, a living area with a worn couch and bookshelf, and a small bedroom and bathroom through the door next to the living room.
“It's not much,” she said, setting her keys on the counter.
“It's you.” Jack's voice was soft. “It feels like you.”
She busied herself in the kitchen, pulling out bread and cheese for sandwiches and pouring glasses of sweet tea. Jack sat at the small table, and she felt the weight of his gaze like a physical touch.
When she finally sat down across from him, handing him a plate, their fingers brushed. That simple contact sent electricity up her arm, and from the way Jack's breath caught, he felt it too.
They ate in silence at first, but gradually, their conversation began to flow. Rachel told him about her first years of teaching in Williamsburg, about the challenges and rewards of working with teenagers. She caught him up on Shiloh and Joseph and their new children.
“Are you back here? For good?” he asked.
She nodded. “As soon as a position at Baytown High School opened up. It felt like time to come home.”
Jack didn’t seem surprised.
“I missed Baytown. Missed being close to Shiloh and Joseph and their kids.” She shrugged. “This is home.”
Jack nodded slowly. “I get that. I've been all over the world, but nothing feels like home the way this place does.”
As they talked, Rachel felt the familiar ease settling between them. This was what she'd missed most. Not just the physical attraction, though that still simmered under the surface. But the comfort of being with someone who knew her. Who understood where she came from and what she'd survived. Who’d looked at her with such love in his eyes.
When the food was gone and the tea glasses empty, they moved to the couch. Jack sat at one end, Rachel at the other, a careful distance between them.
But as they continued talking, that distance slowly closed. He shifted closer. Her hand somehow ended up near his on the cushion between them. Their fingers brushed, then tangled, and suddenly, they were kissing.
It wasn't gentle or tentative. It was desperate and hungry and full of the years they'd spent apart. Rachel's hands fisted in Jack's uniform jacket, pulling him closer, and his arms came around her, holding her like he'd never let go.
They fell back onto the couch, mouths fused, hands exploring familiar territory. Jack's weight pressed her into the cushions, and Rachel wrapped her legs around his waist, needing him closer, needing to erase the distance and time and hurt.
“Rachel,” Jack breathed against her neck. “God, I've missed you.”
“Don't talk.” She pulled his mouth back to hers. “Just kiss me.”
Clothes came off in a fumbling rush. Jack's uniform jacket, Rachel's cardigan, his shirt, her blouse. They stumbled toward the bedroom, kissing and touching, leaving a trail of discarded fabric across the apartment.
When they finally tumbled onto her bed, skin against skin, she felt tears prick her eyes. This felt right… like coming home after a long trip. Whatever complications waited outside this room, whatever reasons they'd had for staying apart, none of it mattered at this moment.
Jack made love to her with a tenderness that broke her heart. Every touch was reverent, every kiss a promise. He whispered her name like a prayer, and Rachel clung to him, memorizing the feel of his body against hers, the sound of his breathing, and the way he looked at her like she was everything.
Afterward, they lay tangled together in the sheets, Rachel's head on Jack's chest, his fingers trailing patterns on her bare shoulder. The room was dark now, lit only by the streetlight filtering through the curtains.