The Coast is Clear (Breakaway Shores #1)

Izzy

Moving Day

Everything was a mess. Boxes were everywhere. The boys’ rooms were first on the list, and luckily, I didn’t really need to worry about any new furniture. Zander came through the front door, Luke carrying a small bag of stuffed animals behind him. “I can carry more than this. This is just embarrassing.”

I was going through the stack of boxes that had made their way onto the dining room table. Most of it was my books. I still wasn’t sure where all of them were going to fit. “You aren’t supposed to be doing anything strenuous or lifting anything heavier than ten pounds. Why don’t you sit down on the couch? Or go help the boys organize those stuffed animals,” I told my brother and got a nasty glare in return.

Luke had scared us all. But two days after I’d come home from the hospital, he’d woken up. Nothing delayed, nothing was broken, and not forgetting anything. It was a miracle, and he was annoyed from being babied. I understood it, but I really didn’t care at this point. It was too much fun. “You’re mean,” he said but went up the stairs with the bag anyway.

“This is another box of books. How do you have so many?” Zander said, putting the box on the table.

I gave him a sheepish smile. “That question doesn’t even make sense.” He came over to me, wrapping his arms around my back, and I leaned up on my toes, pressing my lips to his. “Are you ready to have your house constantly busy?”

We were moving in together. Zander’s furniture was now our furniture. This place wasn’t just his but ours now. “Very ready. It was too quiet in here anyway.” He kissed me again, pulling my body flush with his. I leaned into him, closed my eyes, and let myself relish in the feeling of being held by him. He kissed me again, “Time to go get more of your books.”

I watched Zander go and opened the box in front of me that I’d packed up at the house in Colorado. These boxes had sat in storage all summer. There was a crumpled-up piece of brown wrapping paper on top, and as I removed it, my breath caught in my throat.

Underneath it was a stack of books, ones that I instantly recognized. It was my first book, the one that had sold so well after Jack died. But that isn’t what I couldn’t tear my eyes away from. There was a picture frame on top. My favorite photo inside it. I was holding Christian in my arms, his legs hanging over either side of my pregnant belly. Jack hadn’t been gone for a year, just about seven months, when this photo was taken. I had set up my phone at a park where we were having such a good day. I remember it feeling like the first good day we’d had since Jack died.

I wanted to capture it.

And shining behind us, the sun, leaking light all throughout the image. When I’d shown Christian the photo after taking it, he’d pointed to the screen and said, “Daddy!”

Every time I looked at it, I saw Jack. I saw his laughter, his love for us, and the light he brought into our lives.

Seeing that frame, that photo in the first box I opened, made the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I closed my eyes and could almost feel him. I could feel all of him loving me from wherever he was and letting me know that he was still with me. That he was happy, I was happy.

I held the frame carefully with both hands as I moved over to the table in the entryway. Zander’s frames were all around, but there was a spot in the front that was perfect for it. I set it down, and a tear escaped down my cheek.

How strange it is to be forever in love with someone and be lucky enough to fall in love again.

Thank you, Jack.