Chapter 3

His touch was clumsy, no finesse, but so damn careful. As the cloth grazed my skin, a warmth I'd never felt before washed over me.

Alexander from my last life? He never bothered with stuff like this. It was all take, no give.

Tears welled up, and I tried to hide them, but Jack noticed.

"Did I hurt you?" He frowned. "Sorry, I should've been gentler."

"No," I shook my head, voice catching. "It's just... I didn't expect you to be this thoughtful."

Jack paused, his expression unreadable. "Told you, Ava—I'm no hero. Don't get your hopes up."

But he still leaned in and kissed my forehead, light as a feather.

The next morning, the smell of frying eggs woke me. Jack was already up, messing around in the tiny kitchen. He turned when he saw me stir and handed over a mug of coffee.

"How'd you know I drink coffee?"

"Lucky guess," he shrugged. "You strike me as a coffee kinda girl."

Breakfast was simple—eggs, toast, and coffee—but it tasted like the best meal ever. Maybe because it was the first time someone cooked for me instead of the other way around.

"I'll drive you to work," Jack said, grabbing his keys. "Get the lay of the land."

At the coffee shop, my coworkers were whispering behind the counter. Through the window, they spotted Jack in his junky truck, and their faces said it all.

"What's Ava doing with a guy like that?"

"Looks like a total roughneck..."

"How'd she end up with him?"

I pretended not to hear, focusing on my shift. But inside, I was second-guessing everything—did I make the right call?

Jack was waiting right on time when I got off. But he looked different today, a spark in his eyes I couldn't place.

"Good news," he said as he started the engine. "Sold my bike and scored us a new spot."

"What?" I stared at him. "Why? The trailer's fine."

"Too cramped for a married couple," Jack said, smirking. "Figured you deserve something decent."

Twenty minutes later, we pulled up to a plain apartment building. Nothing fancy, but worlds better than the trailer. Jack led me to the third floor and unlocked the door. I stepped in and froze.

It was a cozy one-bedroom—small, but clean and homey. What blew me away were the curtains: deep ocean blue, exactly my favorite shade.

"You... how'd you know I like blue?" I turned to him, my heart racing.

Jack leaned on the doorframe, looking a bit awkward. "You mentioned it yesterday at city hall. You were staring at that blue poster and said it was pretty."

I racked my brain—yeah, I'd glanced at some ocean-themed ad and muttered something offhand...

He remembered?

"Jack..." My voice wavered, eyes stinging.

In my past life, no one ever paid attention to what I liked. Alexander just made me fit his world—his clothes, his rooms, his rules.

But Jack, this guy I'd known for a day, caught that tiny detail and ran with it.

"No big deal," he muttered, turning away to fiddle with stuff on the table. "Just thought... if it's your home, it should have things you like."

Tears spilled over then.

It hit me—this is what it feels like to be loved.

"Thanks, Jack," I said, wrapping my arms around his waist from behind. "Thanks for making me feel... wanted."

Jack went stiff for a second, then turned and looked at me with those piercing eyes.

"You are wanted, Ava," he said, wiping my tears with a thumb as gentle as if I were made of glass. "No one should ever make you doubt that."

A breeze fluttered the blue curtains, and I held onto this rough, kind man, feeling safer than I ever had.