Chapter 4 4

The sky was a soft, faded blue as Ava leaned against the passenger window, watching coastal trees blur into winding cliffs. The air smelled like sea salt and sun-drenched pine. The radio played low, some mellow folk tune about coming home, and for once in a long time, her heart wasn't racing from anxiety. It was quiet-settled.

"Are you sure we're not lost?" she asked, glancing at Jace.

He smirked, hands relaxed on the steering wheel. "We're not lost. We're almost there. Trust me."

She rolled her eyes playfully. "That's what you said twenty minutes ago."

"And I meant it twenty minutes ago too."

Ava turned back to the window, but her lips curved into a smile. It had been a long time since she'd felt this light, this open. Their summer retreat-a spontaneous trip to a small coastal town named Harrow's Cove-was a joint idea, meant to be a pause button on the world, a reset. Somewhere between a vacation and a reclamation.

Two and a half hours from the city, Harrow's Cove was known for its rocky shorelines, little vintage bookstores, and quaint cabins that dotted the hills like something out of a painting. Camila had helped them book the place-"The Honeysuckle Cabin," as the listing had called it-secluded, breezy, ocean-facing. It sounded like exactly what they needed.

Jace turned the car down a gravel path, trees arching over like a tunnel. The sun broke through in splashes of gold, dappling the road.

"Here," he said, pulling into a clearing. "Told you."

Ava stepped out and stared. The cabin was small, charming-whitewashed wood with a wraparound porch and a garden thick with lavender and thyme. The ocean glimmered just beyond the hill behind it, waves whispering against the rocks.

She breathed in deeply.

"Okay," she said. "You win."

"I always do," he teased, grabbing their bags.

They unpacked quickly-just the basics: Ava's journal, Jace's sketchpad, a few changes of clothes, and a heap of snacks they'd overbought in excitement. The place smelled like cedar and something floral, and the bed was tucked against a wide window that opened to the sea.

That first night, they didn't talk much. They cooked pasta together, ate barefoot on the porch, and watched the stars come out one by one. The moon was a shy crescent, and the wind carried the scent of salt and wildflowers.

"I could stay here forever," Ava murmured, curled into Jace's side under a blanket.

"Me too," he said, pressing a kiss to her temple. "But we'd miss Camila's weekly gossip updates."

She laughed softly, then fell quiet. "Do you think we're really okay now? You and me?"

Jace was quiet for a beat. "I think we're finally learning how to be okay. That counts for something."

---

The days that followed were slow and golden. They woke up late, sunlight spilling across the bed in ribbons. They made breakfast together, sometimes dancing in the kitchen to old soul records left by the cabin's previous guests. In the afternoons, they wandered through town-buying sea-glass jewelry from local stalls, browsing second-hand books, holding hands like the world hadn't ended between them once.

One morning, Ava found a battered old poetry collection in the cabin's bookshelf and began reading it out loud. Jace would sketch while she spoke, capturing her in the moments she didn't realize she was beautiful-eyes half-lidded, sun in her hair, voice soft like ocean foam.

"I missed your voice," he told her one evening. "Not just what you say. How you say it."

She smiled, heart fluttering. "You always knew how to say the right things."

"No. I didn't," he said honestly. "But I'm learning."

---

On the fifth night, a storm rolled in. They stood on the porch as it approached-wind whipping Ava's hair, thunder rumbling in the distance. She stretched her arms wide to the sky, laughing.

"You're gonna get soaked," Jace warned, grinning.

"I want to," she called out, rain beginning to patter around them. "Come on!"

She ran into the rain barefoot, spinning like a child, water clinging to her eyelashes. Jace followed, grabbing her hand, and together they danced under the downpour-laughing, shouting, kissing between lightning flashes. They collapsed back inside, drenched and breathless. Ava's cheeks were flushed, her dress stuck to her skin, her eyes wild with joy.

"You're insane," Jace said, voice low.

"And you love it," she whispered.

He did.

He kissed her then- fierce and wet and real. Clothes were peeled away, not in a frenzy, but like unwrapping something sacred. They made love for the first time since reuniting, bodies trembling not from lust alone, but from relief. From the knowledge that they'd made it back. That what was broken wasn't irreparable after all. Afterward, they lay tangled together, skin cooling, thunder still murmuring in the distance.

"I think I fell for you again in the rain," he whispered into her hair.

Ava smiled, eyes heavy with sleep. "You didn't fall again. You just never really stopped."

---

The next morning, they cooked pancakes in nothing but boxers and an oversized T-shirt.

Ava flipped a burnt one and laughed. "Well, that's a crime."

Jace took a bite of it anyway. "I'll take your crimes over anyone's gourmet any day."

They took their breakfast outside and ate in the garden, bees humming lazily around the lavender.

Later, Ava pulled out her journal and asked him a question she hadn't dared before.

"Where do you see yourself in five years?"

Jace looked up from his sketchpad. "With you," he said simply.

She blinked.

"Wherever I am. Whatever I'm doing," he added. "I want you there."

Ava's throat tightened. "Me too."

---

Their last night in the cabin came too quickly. They watched the sunset from a bluff near the ocean, sitting on a plaid blanket with wine in paper cups and the sea crashing below.

"I wish we didn't have to go back," Ava whispered.

Jace slipped his arm around her. "We'll take this with us. Not just the place. The peace. The honesty."

"Promise?"

He turned to her, brushing his fingers through her hair. "I promise."

He kissed her- slow and deep, like sealing a vow.

The day after the storm, Ava and Jace woke late, the sunlight warm on their bare skin. The cabin's windows were open, the ocean humming just beyond the trees like a lullaby that never stopped.

Ava rolled over to face him, her hair a mess and her skin flushed from sleep. Jace was already watching her.

"You do that a lot," she murmured, voice husky.

"Do what?"

"Look at me like I'm the only thing that exists."

He smiled lazily. "You kind of are."

She laughed, then tucked her head against his chest. For a long time, they just stayed like that-bodies still, hearts speaking louder than words ever could.

Later that morning, they ventured down to the beach for the first time.

The sand was cool and damp under their feet, scattered with seashells and smoothed stones. Waves rolled in steady and rhythmic, and the clouds from the night before had drifted inland, leaving behind a sky so clear it seemed unreal.

Jace carried a sketchpad tucked under his arm. Ava brought nothing but herself. They walked in silence, their fingers brushing, then intertwining naturally. No awkwardness. No need to define what this was.

They knew.

At one point, Ava ran ahead, barefoot through the surf, letting the water chase her. Her laughter echoed off the rocks. Jace sat on a dry patch of sand, knees bent, sketching quickly- desperately trying to capture the way her hair moved in the wind, the curve of her back as she turned, the light in her eyes that hadn't been there a month ago.

She came back to him flushed and breathless.

"Are you drawing me again?"

"Yes."

"Let me see."

He hesitated, then handed it to her. The drawing was rough but alive-her figure caught mid-turn, the suggestion of joy in her posture, wild and free. She looked... weightless.

Ava stared at the image, silent.

"This is how I see you," he said softly. "Not just now. Always."

Her throat tightened. "I don't think I ever saw myself like that."

Jace reached out and gently tucked a wet strand of hair behind her ear. "That's okay. I'll keep showing you."

---

That afternoon, they found a local farmers' market in town-rows of handmade soaps, jars of honey, bundles of herbs, and locals chatting as if everyone knew each other. They sampled peach preserves and bought a bottle of lavender syrup "just because."

Ava slipped her hand into Jace's as they walked past the booths.

"I forgot how much I love places like this," she said. "Everything feels slower here. Like people actually see each other."

He nodded. "You can breathe out here. It's like... all the pressure just disappears."

Ava turned to him. "Why do we let it come back every time we leave places like this?"

Jace gave a sad smile. "Because we think we have to. Because the world doesn't slow down for anyone. Even when we need it to."

That night, they cooked dinner using fresh ingredients from the market-rosemary chicken, roasted tomatoes, and a salad with strawberries and goat cheese. Ava lit candles. Jace put on a playlist of mellow acoustic songs. It felt like a scene from a movie. Or a memory from a life they hadn't lived yet- but wanted to.

---

After dinner, they sat on the porch steps, sharing a fleece blanket and sipping the lavender syrup in warm tea. The stars above were scattered thick across the sky, uninterrupted by city light.

Ava leaned her head against Jace's shoulder. "I wish I could bottle this moment."

He kissed the top of her head. "If I could paint time, I'd paint this."

She chuckled. "You and your artsy metaphors."

"You love them."

"I do."

He paused. "Can I ask you something real?"

"Always."

Jace took a breath. "Do you think we'd be here right now if we hadn't broken up?"

Ava was quiet for a long moment. Then she said, "I don't think we'd be this version of ourselves."

"Is that a good thing?"

She looked up at him, eyes reflecting starlight. "I think it had to happen. I hated it. It broke me. But I also think it gave us space to grow. And now, we're not just falling in love again-we're choosing it. That means more."

Jace nodded slowly, taking in every word.

"I want to keep choosing it," he said. "Every day."

Ava's heart swelled.

"Then let's do that," she whispered. "Let's keep choosing each other."

---

The next morning, they planned a hike up the cliffs that overlooked the sea. The trail was narrow but manageable, winding through wildflowers and gnarled trees, the scent of eucalyptus thick in the air.

At the summit, they sat on a flat rock, legs dangling over the edge, the entire cove sprawled out beneath them like a painting.

Ava leaned back on her hands. "Promise me something?"

"Anything."

"When we go back-when school starts again, when the real world comes knocking-don't let this fade. Don't let us fade."

Jace reached for her hand and held it tight. "We don't have to go back to who we were before. We can start over, not rewind."

She smiled. "Starting over. I like that."

He hesitated. "My parents are selling their house."

Ava blinked. "What?"

Jace looked out at the ocean. "They want to downsize. My dad's retiring. The place we used to sneak into the backyard of? Gone."

"Oh."

"I thought it'd hit me harder," he said. "But maybe... maybe some chapters just end so new ones can begin."

Ava squeezed his hand. "What chapter do you want to write next?"

He looked at her.

"You. Me. A little place that smells like books and paint. Maybe by the water. Maybe not. But full of quiet mornings, burnt pancakes, and too many sketchbooks."

Tears stung her eyes, but she laughed. "That sounds perfect."

"It's not a proposal," he said quickly, grinning. "Yet."

Ava laughed again, wiping at her eyes. "It's perfect anyway."

---

Their last full day was spent in bed. Not out of laziness, but because something about the weight of goodbye had crept in overnight. It hung between their conversations, laced their touches with extra softness.

They watched old movies on Jace's tablet. Ava read poetry aloud when the rain returned briefly. They napped. They kissed. They made love again- slow, reverent.

That night, Jace traced circles on her bare back as she lay half-asleep in his arms.

"I don't know if I believe in fate," he whispered. "But I believe in this."

She didn't reply.

She didn't need to.

Her breathing, her presence, her warmth beside him- all of it said: me too.

---

On the drive back to the city, they held hands most of the way. This wasn't about returning to what they had. This was something entirely new- built on forgiveness, presence, and a fierce, unshakable kind of love.