“see you at the hard deck”

the first thing jake reached for in the mornings wasn't the warmth of the sun, a cup of coffee, or even his uniform shirt.

it was his phone. and it had been his phone everyday for the past month. today's no different. the only thing that is different are the photos he receives every morning.

from you.

jake's hand found his phone faster than his brain could comprehend, his thumb brushing across the screen to reveal exactly what he anticipates every morning:

good morning, jake :)

underneath was a photo of rhett, half-asleep at the breakfast table with his face smushed into his hands. jake huffed a laugh, despite the sleepiness lingering in his chest. he sunk deeper into his bed for a second, fingers swiftly moving across his phone.

Morning, darlin'. Looks like the little man isn't having it.

instantly, a bubble appeared, making a smile spread across his face.

he refused to get out of bed without his stuffed shark. i'm calling it a win. hope you got good rest. big day?

he props himself up in bed, the cold of his room instantly hitting him, sending a shiver down his spine. he read your message twice, engraving it in his brain before he responded.

Yeah, but talking to you makes it better.

his thumb hovers over the send button. he ponders if it's too much too soon. he deletes the whole message and types something completely different.

Slept good. Missed talking to you.

his house was quiet as he padded to the kitchen, the only sound being the ocean in the distance. he leans against the kitchen counter, scrolling through days upon days of shared conversations between the two of you, stopping on a live photo he captured of rhett snoring softly and you smiling beside him. he turns his silent off, holding down the photo to hear your laugh echoing softly and quietly. a sound that will forever be etched in his memory.

well after you hung up and went to bed, he stayed up for a while. just thinking. wanting. wondering how it was possible to feel this connected to someone a thousand miles away.

"hangman!" a knock at the door echoed through his house. "the hell are you doing? wheels up in an hour!" phoenix's voice carried through, rushing him. he locks his phone, making his way to the door and quickly opening it.

"oh well hello to you too, nat," he says as phoenix brushes past him into his house.

"you didn't answer anyone's texts." jake shrugs his shoulders

"a man needs his beauty rest. i can't let eye bags ruin my perfect face." she scoffs

"uh-huh. right." grabbing an apple from his kitchen, she takes a giant bite out of it. "it's definitely not because you were smiling at your phone just now."

"i just like mornings."

"since when?" jake ignores her, tossing his flight bag over his shoulder.

"since always. you ready?" she narrowed her eyes at him, but didn't push. not yet, at least.

but later as the two are walking across the tarmac, she thinks to herself—he's hiding something.

it was obvious.

jake pretended to ignore phoenix's words replaying in his head from earlier. he pretended he didn't feel the heat creeping into his chest. pretended he didn't just spend fifteen minutes earlier rereading the two of you's messages.

the roaring of jets, clipped radio calls, and rush of the coastal wind usually grounds him. except today, it only reminded him of the distance between you two. of how it would be a minute until that distance can be solved by a quick car drive.

by the time he was airborne, slicing through the bright california sky, you were still very present on the forefront of his mind. your laugh, the way you said his name softly when rhett fell asleep on your shoulder to get his attention (not that it wasn't already on you), to the gentle warmth in your tone when you wished him goodnight. you were starting to consume his every waking thought.

jake had always been careful of who he let in. who he let see jake and not hangman. but with you? he didn't stand a chance. he was a goner as soon as he laid eyes on you.

as he broke through the cloud line, sunlight washed over the canopy of his jet, one thought present at the back of his mind.

he couldn't wait to go home.

not to texas. not to the house he grew up in. but to you. to rhett. to the little world you two were building in secret. piece by piece, text by text, call by call.

a month wasn't long, but it was enough. enough to make him know he wasn't imagining this. enough for him to know he wanted something more with you. he just didn't know when, or how, he was going to say it.

the rest of the day passed by in flashes. familiar routines, muscle memory, and clipped comms crackling through his headset. but none of it stuck the way it usually did. it didn't ground him like it used to when he was bright-eyed and bushy-tailed in flight school. every time he had a spare second, his mind drifted back to you. to your laugh, to the softness of your voice, to rhett's sleepy smiles. all his live photos replaying in his head like songs that he couldn't erase out of his mind.

jake seresin wasn't a distracted man. he didn't let his guard down. he never lost focus. but today? concentration felt like sand slipping through his fingers.

after debrief, the squad spilled into the hallway in their usual chatter. maverick said something about improving turn radius, then payback complained about his fuel gauge, then phoenix stepped into a stride beside jake.

"you're quiet," she noted, squinting at him. "you're never quiet. honestly, it's unsettling."

"i'm fine, nat," he said, keeping his tone even and casual. "you're reading into nothing." she hums, a sound of disbelief. she kept walking and then javy takes her place, slinging an arm over his shoulders.

"you coming to the hard deck tonight?" normally, the answer was an immediate yes. jake loved the noise of people talking, the music, the competition. it was his scene. he was familiar with it. but the thought of being there half-present while his phone burned a hole in his pocket with your name on the other end?

he shook his head

"gonna have an early night, tonight." phoenix turns around abruptly and javy pauses.

"something's up."

"yeah, natasha. the sky. we were just flying around in."

"okay smartass. you're never tired for the hard deck."

"i'm a changed man."

"you? change? not even in the same skyline." jake forces a smirk, but his chest tightens. she wasn't wrong, about the change part. she just had no idea what, or rather, who, changed him.

he didn't tell nat or javy about the way his heart fluttered when he felt his phone buzz. didn't tell them how seeing your name on his screen made something inside of him loosen. didn't tell them how rhett's sleepy voice saying 'hi mister jake' every night for the past month left his throat tight for reasons he wasn't ready to unpack. some things weren't meant for everyone else to know. nor were they meant for teasing and loud bar nights.

what he had with you, what he was building with you, belonged somewhere quieter. softer. realer. more private.

he drove home that night, sunlight fading behind him as he had one hand on the wheel, the other thumb resting against the edge of his phone. he didn't open your messages just yet. he liked the anticipation to sit and warm under his buzzing ribs. he liked knowing that there was something waiting for him that didn't feel like an obligation or duty.

when he walked into his house, dropping his flight bag in it's usual spot, kicking off his boots, he finally checked his phone.

another photo. this time of rhett with marker all over his hands and a triumphant grin as he held up a drawing.

there was an art emergency tonight

he laughed aloud. that low, breathy kind that he only seemed to have for you, and sank down further on his couch. his fingers hovered over the keyboard.

A modern-day Picasso. A messy one, but still an artist. What's the emergency?

the three dots popped up, blinking.

you're not gonna believe me

Try me.

my son ate a crayon.

jake blinked then wheezed a laugh so sudden it echoed off his living room walls.

Is he okay??

oh yeah, perfectly fine. denim blue, but fine.

jake pressed a hand to his mouth, smile still big on his face. you always managed to do this to him. turning the quiet into something warm. for a few minutes, you two texted back and forth. anywhere from crayons to dinner plans to rhett's growing obsession with sharks. then the conversation shifted into something more tender.

you told him about a nightmare that you had the other night. a silly one, but it still stuck with you. he tells you about a rough landing earlier, how he shook it off like he usually did. you tell him you worry about him sometimes. he tells you that's not necessary, but he doesn't tell you that he likes that you do.

there's a pause. a quiet one just long enough for the house to feel smaller around him.

i'm glad we met, jake.

he stares at the words. his throat goes tight. the kind of tight you get when something hits you right in the chest and stays there.

he carefully calculates what to say back, typing slowly.

Me too. More than you know.

he means it. god, he means it so much it scares him. the silence that follows isn't empty, it's full. heavy. warm. he doesn't need to see your face to know you're smiling.

he rests his phone on his chest and stares at his ceiling. there's no denying it anymore. not when every morning starts with you, and every night ends with you. with your voice soft in his ear. not when he's counting down the days to thanksgiving like it's a ticking time bomb.

he wants you. wants this. wants more. but wanting and admitting are two different things. and you deserve a confession in person, not over a midnight text message with rhett asleep in the next room. he wants to look at you and say his thoughts out loud. he wants to see the way your eyes soften when he does. he wants to hear your laugh in person again, not through an iphone speaker.

thanksgiving couldn't come faster.

⛰︎ ོ ༄

thanksgiving crept closer in on Jake in a way that every big moment in his life seemed to do. slow at first, then all at once.

the base was buzzing with energy in the same way that kids are the day before break. pilots were swapping travel plans, scheduling carpools, and bragging about who's cooking what. phoenix and payback were arguing over cranberry sauce in the ready room. maverick kept threatening to cancel everyone's days off if anyone smudges the simulator screens.

but Jake? he's quiet and focused. counting down. six days. then five. then four.

he wakes up every morning to your texts lighting up his screen. Rhett showing off a huge leaf he found. a picture of new kitchenware you got. a blurry selfie of you half-asleep on your couch after putting Rhett to bed. he saves that one. it stays tucked in his camera roll like something warm that he can carry in his pocket.

two days. then one.

the night before he flies home, he sits on his couch with the lights off, phone illuminating the living room. you're telling him about the side dish you're making for thanksgiving and how Rhett wants to help you but you're terrified he'll burn the house down.

he teases you gently. you tease back. there's a long silence that follows after. the soft kind. the kind where you know the other person is still there, thinking and breathing with you.

"you excited to go home?" you ask finally. the question is innocent, but he hears the undercurrent. the unspoken 'I hope I get to see you.'

"yeah," he answers softly. "more than usual."

there’s another pause. slightly sharper this time. like you heard what he didn’t say. like you felt it too.

“well,” you say, in that careful, shy tone he’s come to love, “have a safe flight tomorrow. text me when you land?” there’s only one answer he could ever give.

“always, darlin’.” he sleeps lightly that night. not restless per se, just filled with something warm and buzzing that keeps him hovering right at the edge of dreams. mainly you, but that’s neither here nor there.

morning comes early. the sky’s still a dark, bruised blue when he pulls into the base lot with his duffel packed neatly. far too neat for a man who usually folds his clothes in the dark. or just shoves them in the bag. he’s showered, shaved, and wearing the jacket he knows you liked on facetime last week. he never put this much effort into his appearance, but he felt like he was obligated to when seeing you.

phoenix is waiting by the terminal doors, sipping a coffee and squinting at him like he’s a puzzle she’s almost solved.

“you look suspiciously put together,” she says. “if you’re meeting a girl back home, blink twice.” he just snorts, pushing past her.

“not everything’s about girls, nat.”

“with you? it usually is.”

“go home, phoenix.” she grins, unbothered.

“fine. but if you come back acting even weirder than you’ve been this month, i’m interrogating you.” jake shakes his head, but there’s no bite in it. just quiet nerves, coiled low in his stomach. inside the airport, he moves through security on autopilot. he’s done this a over a hundred times. but never with this particular blend of anticipation and tension humming under his skin.

once he’s at his gate, he pulls out his phone. one new message. from you.

rhett says give the plane a fast thumbs up for him :) also, have a safe flight. we’ll be thinking of you.

his mouth curves slowly, softly, a smile meant only for you.

I’ll give the whole damn plane a thumbs up for him. And I’ll text you when I land. Promise.

boarding is called & jake inhales deeply. the plane smells like stale air and overworked ventilation systems. the windows are fogged with early morning dew. he slides into his seat, duffel tucked at his feet, and buckles in. as the engines roar to life, he opens your thread again. scrolling up. rereading.

there’s rhett’s dinosaur pajamas. your hand holding a mug of cocoa. a photo you sent of your neighborhood decorated for fall, leaves scattered everywhere. a stray, blurry picture rhett took of you that jake treasures more than he should. then there’s your voice notes. your goodnight texts.

he scrolls higher, past the first few messages after halloween. the polite ones, the small talk, and his thumb stops quickly on the first time you called him jake instead of “caroline’s brother.” his chest squeezes. he remembers exactly how it felt. every emotion. like something shifted in the world without warning.

the plane lifts off, the pressure pushing him back into his seat. then the world falls away beneath him, and all he can think is, he’s finally going home. home to texas. home to his mom’s cooking. home to delilah’s tight hugs. home to the creaky floors of his childhood house.

but really? he’s going home to you. to the possibility that’s been growing between you, steady and patient and quietly sure.

he rests his head against his seat, eyes half-closed.

“see you soon,” he whispers to himself. but he means you. he knows he does.

the second jake stepped off the plane, the familiar texas air wrapped around him like a memory. warm, a little dusty, smelling faintly of pine and something sweet he could never name but always knew. the airport wasn’t busy, it never really was here, but he moved through it slowly anyway. savoring every piece of home his brain could cling to. by the time he reached the pickup lane, his mom’s SUV was already there.

a window rolls down. charlotte leaned halfway out of the passenger side like she was spotting a celebrity.

“THERE HE IS!” she yelled, waving both arms dramatically. “the prodigal son returns!” jake rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t fight the smile tugging at his mouth.

his mom was out of the car before he could blink. she threw her arms around him with that full-body kind of hug he never got tired of. tight, warm, grounding. her perfume still smelled the same as it always did.

“oh, baby,” she murmured against his shoulder. “you got skinnier since you last were here.”

“mama,” he groaned, laughing, “you say that every time.”

“and every time, i’m right.” charlotte grabbed his face the second his mom released him, squishing his cheeks together.

“ugh. you look different.”

“missed you too, char,” he said, shoving her gently. she snorted.

“yeah, yeah, get in the car lieutenant cowboy. backseat. i got shotgun.”

the drive home was filled with the kind of chatter he’d forgotten he missed. charlotte complaining about a professor. his mom asking, twice if he may add, if he was eating well on base. the radio playing old songs he knew by heart. but even with all the noise, his eyes kept drifting to his phone in his lap.

your flight landed?

jake typed back with a grin before he even thought about it.

Just touched down. My mom’s already telling me I got skinnier.

your reply came instant.

sounds about right. rhett says hi :)

he felt something warm spread through his chest, almost painfully soft.

Tell him mister Jake says hi back.

charlotte turns and looks behind her, squinting at him.

“who’re you texting?”

“no one,” jake said too quickly. her eyebrows shot up.

“ooooh. so that’s how we’re playing it.”

“mind your business” she sends him a devilish grin, much similar to his signature hangman smirk.

“not a chance.”

when they finally pulled into the driveway, jake froze for a second. the house looked exactly the same. same faded shutters. same porch swing. same welcome mat that had been there since he was twelve.

it hit him harder than he expected. harder than it did last time.

“come on,” charlotte said, bumping his shoulder. “don’t go all sentimental on us now.”

“i’m not,” he lied. he was.

that first night home, dinner was loud like always. chaotic in the way only families could be. his dad grilled steaks. charlotte talked with her hands too much. his mom fussed at both of them. the kitchen smelled like butter and herbs and something warm he’d missed without realizing it. and even then, through the laughter and clatter and familiar noise, he kept thinking about you. always about you.

between stories, he’d sneak glances at his phone. you sent a picture of rhett coloring turkeys with markers. they were… aggressively blue.

rhett says they’re sky turkeys. don’t question it.

jake stifled a laugh behind his glass of sweet tea.

Sky turkeys make perfect sense.

you answered quickly, and he ate every second of it up.

i actually think you’d encourage him

and he would. god, he already did. charlotte caught him smiling at his phone again and pointed her fork at him.

“seriously. who is she?”

“drop it.”

“is this why you look like a lovesick labrador?”

“charlotte.”

“what?” she said innocently. “i’m just asking questions.”

“well stop.”

their parents watched, amused.

“son, if you’ve got a girl back in california—”

“i don’t,” jake cut in, maybe too quickly. “it’s not, she’s not, we’re just talking.” charlotte gasps. loudly. dramatically.

“OH MY GOD. THERE IS A WOMAN AND YOU LIKE HER.” he shoots a glare at his younger sister.

“if you don’t shut up, i’m dropping you off at caroline’s house.” she smirked. which meant he was doomed.

the next few days passed in warm snapshots. quiet mornings with coffee on the porch, afternoons helping his mom prep food, evenings spent watching old movies with delilah curled against his side. but every night, he found himself stepping outside into the cool texas air, phone pressed to his ear in the dark. that’s when you talked softer. when your guard slipped. when rhett was sleeping and the world was quiet.

that’s when jake felt closest to you. he told you about growing up here. you told him about how rhett kept asking if mister jake would be back for thanksgiving. jake pretended his heart didn’t stutter at that.

thanksgiving eve, you laughed about something he said. something dumb, something small. and he swore the sound settled in his bones.

“i’m glad you’re home,” you said softly.

“me too,” he murmured, and then after a beat, “i wish i could see you.”

silence. warm, charged silence.

“soon,” you whispered.

he didn’t sleep much after that.

thanksgiving morning was loud, bright, and busy. charlotte burned a pan of rolls. his mom insisted on rearranging the table three times. delilah knocked over a bowl of cranberries and cried until jake scooped her up and kissed her hair. but even in all the noise, his chest buzzed with one thought:

he was going to see you today. neither of you planned anything out loud. but you lived close. there were coincidences waiting to happen.

every time he caught his reflection in a window, his pulse kicked. every text from you made his breath catch. at one point, while he was slicing ham for his mom, his phone buzzed.

happy thanksgiving, jake. i’m thankful for… well. you know.

his throat went tight.

I’m thankful for you too.

More than you probably realize.

he deleted and retyped the second line three times before sending. you replied with a single heart emoji.

yellow. soft. not too much. but enough.

god, he was done for. and that’s when he knew. knew he was going to see you today, knew he needed to. knew he wasn’t waiting anymore. because a month of talking had turned into something real. something steady. something he couldn’t pretend wasn’t pulling him toward you.

but when he saw you, he was going to ask you. officially and properly. finally.

the thought alone made his heart pound & thanksgiving wasn’t even halfway over. he couldn’t remember the last time he felt this alive.

thanksgiving afternoon, however, felt like gold. the sun was dropping low, throwing long shadows across his parents’ yard. delilah darted around with a half-eaten cookie in hand, his mom was yelling something about someone putting the sweet tea back in the fridge, and charlotte was trying to explain football to caroline with excessive hand gestures. but all jake could think about was you.

how close you were. you two were in the same city again. a short drive away. maybe you were walking. maybe cooking. maybe stepping outside for air the same moment he did. his heart wouldn’t settle, beating like it was waiting.

“you okay?” charlotte asked, handing him a tray of rolls.

“fine,” he muttered. “hot.”

“jake, it’s sixty degrees.”

“i run warm.” charlotte stared at him, deadpan.

“just go outside before you combust.” maybe fate was being kind for once, because the second he stepped onto the porch, the second the cool air hit his face, he heard it. your laugh. his breath caught. he turned. there you were. you were walking up the dit driveway toward his parents’ house, a glass dish in your hands, rhett bouncing at your side like he was made of energy and sugar. your hair caught the sunlight. your sweater looked soft enough to touch. your face—god, your face.

rhett spotted jake first.

“mister jake!!” he barreled toward the porch, nearly tripping over his own feet. jake crouched instinctively, catching him mid-run with an easy laugh.

“hey, buddy. happy thanksgiving.”

“look!” rhett held up a paper turkey. “i made it blue!”

“of course you did,” jake grinned. “that’s the correct color.”

when jake finally looked up at you, time stretched thin around the edges.

“hi,” you said, breathless, a little shy. “sorry. caroline invited us over. didn’t think we’d run into you so soon.”

he stood slowly, heart pounding harder than the moment before takeoff.

“i was hopin’ i would,” he said softly. your eyes flickered. a hint of surprise and something warm, something he couldn’t name behind them.

“well,” you said, shifting the dish in your hands, “happy thanksgiving.”

“happy thanksgiving,” he echoed. something thick and gentle settled between you, humming like steady electricity. rhett ran off to find delilah, leaving the two of you alone on the porch, close enough that the sleeve of your sweater brushed his arm when you moved.

“how’s your day been?” you asked.

“busy,” he said honestly. “good. but i kept thinking about when i’d see you.”

you looked down at your shoes for a moment, smiling in that small, private way he’d only ever seen over a screen.

“me too,” you admitted. that did him in. completely and wholly. he exhaled, long and shaky, then ran a hand over the back of his neck, a nervous tell he’d never shown you before.

“can we, uh…” he gestured toward the side yard. “walk for a second?”

you blinked. then nodded.

“yeah. of course.”

he led you to the quietest corner of the yard where the trees cast long shadows and the sound of his family in the back faded into a gentle background hum. he shoved his hands into his pockets, then pulled them back out because that felt too casual, then crossed his arms, then uncrossed them. you giggled softly.

“you okay?”

he huffed a breath. “not really. kinda feel like i’m sixteen again.”

“why?”

because of you. because of how your presence steadies him and knocks him off balance at the same time. because he’s been thinking about this moment for a month straight.

“jake?” you asked softly, stepping closer. he swallowed hard. and then finally..

“i like you.” your eyes softened instantly. he continued before he lost courage. “i like you more than i planned to. more than i should after a month. but i do. i think about you all the damn time. i think about rhett too. i look forward to your texts more than anything else in my day, and—”

his voice cracked slightly, surprised by the emotion tightening it, “—and i didn’t wanna wait anymore to tell you.”

your breath hitched. your lashes flickered. you stepped even closer.

“jake,” you whispered, “i like you too.”

his chest clenched, relief flooding him so fast he almost laughed.

“yeah?” he asked, voice small and hopeful.

“yeah,” you said, smiling in that soft, shy way that made his knees weak. “a lot. it honestly scares me.“

something warm and dizzying bloomed in him. he didn’t think, he didn’t have to. he reached for your hand, gentle, careful, like you were something fragile.

“then can i ask you something?” he said quietly. your fingers curled instinctively into his.

“you can ask me anything.”

jake drew a breath, the cool texas air filling his lungs with something sharp and sweet.

“will you be my girlfriend? officially?” the world held still. the trees, the laughter from the kitchen window, the distant chatter of delilah and rhett, all of it fell away. then you smiled. slow. radiant. sure.

“yes,” you said. “of course, yes.”

jake felt that small, private yes settle somewhere deep inside him, repairing things he didn’t know were broken. he didn’t kiss you. not yet. not here. but he squeezed your hand, thumb brushing your knuckles, reverent. you leaned your forehead briefly against his shoulder, shy and warm and everything he’d been craving in one small gesture.

for the first time in a long time, jake felt full. not from food. not from nostalgia. but from you.

thanksgiving night blurred into something golden. the seresin house was soft and dim, dishes cleaned and stacked, charlotte buzzing with nosy energy, delilah asleep on the couch with a blanket pulled to her chin. jake’s mom hummed christmas songs under her breath while packing leftovers into containers. and you? you were there. close enough that your shoulder brushed his arm when you passed him in the hallway. close enough that he could smell the warmth of your perfume when you leaned near. close enough that his heart felt too big for his chest every time you smiled at him.

you didn’t cling. you didn’t hover. you didn’t try to make anything more than it was. but every glance between you said everything. girlfriend. the word echoed in his head like a prayer. he replayed your yes over and over, letting the memory sink into his bones. by the time he walked you and rhett to your car, the night air was cold enough to make your breath curl. rhett was barely awake, head on your shoulder, little arms limp with sleep.

you whispered, “i had a really good day.”

“me too,” he murmured, brushing a stray hair from your cheek with a gentleness that startled even him. “drive safe, darlin’.”

your eyes softened at the pet name.

“text me when you get home?”

“promise.”

you hesitated, then leaned in, pressing a shy, warm kiss to his cheek. it barely lasted a second. but he felt it everywhere.

“goodnight, jake,” you whispered.

“goodnight,” he said, voice low, steady, full. you got into your car. he stood there until your taillights disappeared down the street. and even then, he stayed rooted in place, thumb brushing the spot where you kissed him like he could physically keep the memory from fading.

the next morning hit harder than he wanted. the house felt quieter. cooler. like something had settled and something else had been stirred up all at once. his mom hugged him twice as long. his dad clapped a hand on his shoulder with that steady, wordless pride. charlotte made him swear. swear he’d tell her the second him and his ‘mystery girl’ became official. he’d only rolled his eyes. she didn’t need to know yet.

some things were meant to stay soft and private a little longer. he tossed his duffel into the truck, pausing for a moment to take in the house. the porch. the swing. the yard where he’d told you how he felt. he felt different. lighter. anchored in a way he hadn’t been in a long time. when he slid into the driver’s seat, his phone buzzed.

safe drive, cowboy

he smiled, slow and warm. your contact name glowed up at him like sunlight in the cold.

Almost on the road. Already missin’ you.

he debated deleting that. debated softening it. but he didn’t. he wanted you to have the real thing.

me too.

two tiny words. big impact.

the airport felt colder on the way back. not because the weather changed, but because he wasn’t ready to go. he moved through security, boots off, jacket folded over his arm, phone clenched in his hand like a lifeline. boarding call echoed overhead. families gathered coats, kids chattered, couples leaned into each other.

he stepped onto the plane and sat by the window, duffel tucked beneath the seat in front of him. the engines hummed to life, the world vibrating softly through the cabin. he opened your messages again. reading them like they were a story he didn’t want to reach the end of. there was your photo from last night, your smile warm and real, rhett asleep on your lap. there were the turkey crafts and rhett’s sky-colored drawings.

the good morning texts and the late-night voice notes. the shy admissions. the soft jokes. the long paragraphs on nights when you both couldn’t sleep. then he reached your message from thanksgiving night.

i’m really glad we met

he stared at it. felt the words settle somewhere deep and permanent. he typed slowly

Me too, and I can’t wait to see you again.

the plane shook as it ascended, climbing toward a sky the same color rhett insisted turkeys should be. jake leaned his head against the window, watching the clouds streak past him. texas fell away beneath him. his house, his yard, the place where you kissed his cheek, the place where you said yes.

but instead of the usual sting of leaving, there was something steadier. something hopeful. because this time, he wasn’t leaving empty-handed. he was leaving with you. your voice, your laugh, your yes, tucked somewhere between his ribs. and he knew, without question: he’d be back.

for you. for rhett. for the life quietly waiting for him in texas.

california was where he worked, texas was where he grew up. but you? you were becoming his home.

⛰︎ ོ ༄

the plane touched down with a soft thud, the kind that barely jolted him. still, the moment the wheels hit the runway, something in jake’s chest pulled tight. not the dread he usually felt after leaving home. not the slow ache of going back to work-mode. something warmer. lighter. but sharper too.

he had someone waiting for his text. someone he was allowed, officially, finally, to miss.

passengers stirred around him. seatbelts clicked. overhead bins opened with dull thunks. jake stayed still a moment longer, breathing in the change. california. base. responsibility. flight sims.

but it didn’t feel as heavy as before. his phone buzzed as the plane taxied.

did you land?

his heart kicked, something bright blooming through him.

Just touched down, darlin’. Miss you already.

he let himself hit send without overthinking it this time. your response came fast. like you’d been hovering over your phone.

me too. rhett’s still talking about you, btw. he asked if he can show you his dinosaur book when you facetime tonight

jake’s grin spread, slow and helpless.

I’d love that. Tell him I wanna’ see it.

by the time he exited the airport, the sky had shifted to that muted california gray-blue. cooler. sharper. the air smelled like jet fuel and ocean mist instead of pine and cinnamon.

it wasn’t texas, but for the first time, it didn’t feel so hollow.

he tossed his duffel into his truck, climbed in, and just sat there for a minute. hands on the steering wheel. heart full in a way that quieted every sharp edge inside him. he played your voice note from the other night again. that soft, shy little laugh you did after rhett fell asleep mid-sentence. the gentle way you’d said, ‘goodnight, jake,’ like the words mattered. like he mattered.

the drive back to base was familiar. long stretches of road, cliffs lining the coastline, sunlight bouncing off the water in broken shards. he used to tune it all out. not today. today, every song on the radio reminded him of you. every mile counted down to the moment he’d call you later. every thought drifted to thanksgiving night. your shy kiss on his cheek, your warm yes, the way your fingers curled into his when he held your hand.

the moment he parked on base, phoenix appeared out of nowhere like she had psychic abilities.

“well, look who’s back,” she said, crossing her arms. “you look suspiciously happy.”

“i’m always happy,” jake deflected.

“no,” she said flatly. “you are smug. this is different.”

he kept walking, ignoring the heat creeping up his neck.

“hangman,” she pressed, trailing him, “did you meet someone back home?”

he didn’t flinch, didn’t smile, didn’t crack. he just said, steadily, “i don’t know what you’re talking about.”

phoenix blinked, stunned.

“you’re actually keeping a secret? a romantic one? you??”

“go do literally anything else,” he muttered.

javy intercepted them in the hallway, raising a brow. “good break?”

“yeah,” jake said simply.

“you seem different.”

“do i?”

“yeah. like.. softer.”

jake froze. phoenix snorted.

“he IS softer.”

“i’m not softer.”

they both stared at him. he cleared his throat.

“i’m leaving.” and he walked away before they could corner him again. but the thing was, they weren’t wrong. he did feel softer. calmer. steadier. like something inside him had clicked into place. and he knew exactly why.

once he was back home, he showered, changed into sweats, and sat on his bed with a tired exhale. the day had been long. the travel had drained him. but none of that mattered. because he had someone to talk to. someone who wanted to hear about his day. someone who waited for his text.

“mister jake!!!”

he barely had time to smile before rhett’s tiny voice echoed through his phone speaker. you’d called him. facetime lit up his screen, and the second he answered, rhett thrust a dinosaur book at the camera with enough force to shake the phone.

“LOOK!”

jake laughed, sinking back against his pillows. “whoa, buddy. that’s some serious prehistoric business.”

“it’s a T-REX!”

“best one there is.”

your face came into view behind him, warm and soft in your living room lamplight.

“hi,” you said, quiet like always at night. he softened instantly. completely.

“hi,” he murmured. “missed you.”

your eyes flickered. your lips curved.

“missed you too.”

for a while, he listened to rhett ramble about dinosaurs, sunshine pooling behind your shoulder. your home. your voice. your presence.

his world felt right. and sometime between rhett flipping pages and you teasing him about wearing the same pajama shirt as last week, jake realized something. this wasn’t just a phase. wasn’t a silly crush. wasn’t a moment.

this was a beginning. and for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t scared of what came next.

NOTE FROM DEL! this was such hot ass i’m so sorry. the next part will be a headcanon i’m thinking. love you all dearly 🫶🏻

the engines roared then started to quiet down; the cabin lights glowed faintly over the passengers’ heads. outside, beyond the window separating jake from him and reality, the texas horizon shimmered under the late-afternoon heat—stretching on for miles, the sky cracked open wide above it.

he unbuckled his seatbelt slowly, letting the rest of his peers exit before him. upon exiting the plane, he wasn’t met with the familiar scent of jet fuel and the ocean; instead, he was hit with dust and cedar, and a faint touch of something metallic, like rain that was promised but never came. he rolled his shoulders back, adjusting the weight of his duffle on his back, following the rest of the passengers through the narrow jetway.

the airport was smaller in size, as compared to the bases and international terminals he was so accustomed with. here, the speakers above buzzed, the flooring was adorned in years of scuff marks from boots and luggage. speaking of, the baggage claim moved at its own pace, years of continuous looping becoming routine.

after grabbing his one suitcase, he looks outside as the sunlight lowers and becomes more golden, catching itself on the windshields of parked cars. somewhere among those rows of cars waiting to be claimed once again, he spots his old pickup. the first truck he ever owned and drove. sitting right where his dad promised he left it—half-hidden behind the short-term lot’s fence. it’s paint had dulled over the years, proving to have been loved, tried and true.

the driver’s door groans when jake opens it. the cab smelled faintly of old leather and sun-baked dust. a pair of jake’s old aviators hung from the mirror, an old receipt was curled up in the console, there were still tiny scratches in the passenger dashboard from where he’d take his dog for rides in the summer. he smiles to himself, thumb running over the worn steering wheel before he twists the key. the truck hesitates for a second, coughing and eventually rumbling awake like it’d only been napping for a short period of time.

“still got it,” he murmurs to himself, voice rough with travel.

jake eases out of the lot, windows down, and elbow resting against the frame. the warm, late-summer air rushed in, carrying with it the dry sweetness of cut grass. his radio faintly crackles to life, somewhere between static and an old country song, a guitar twanging somewhere behind the hiss. the highway opened wide almost immediately, inviting jake in. soon, the city limits ended, and the lane cut down from four to two. the asphalt was lined with scrub and telephone poles, darker lines appearing here and there in the road due to continuous filling of asphalt from cracking. every few miles, the land dipped and rose again, revealing water towers, barns, silos, and stretches of wooden-fences aging from years of rain.

jake let the miles fade beneath him, focusing on the rhythm of the road working something loose inside his chest. it always did. out here, there was nothing to be constantly measured against—no call signs, no scoreboard, no flight sims. nothing but the engine and the wind.

he eventually passes a field where someone had left bales of hay stacked like dice against the fading sun. the further he drove on, the more frequent kids riding their bicycles along a ditch came, their laughter thin and bright. he raises two fingers from the steering wheel in greeting; one of them waving back. he misses days like that. only having to worry about what his mom was cooking for dinner and not if one day his life can be taken away from him in the blink of an eye.

the deeper he drives out of town, the thinner traffic becomes. the sky was starting to shift from shades of copper and then wine, streaked by long, low clouds. porch lights start to blink on in the distance, like tiny constellations scattered along the countryside.

his phone buzzes once against the center console, a text from his younger sister—

you home yet? momma’s been pacing a hole into the floor since lunch.

he grins, thumbs upping her message, quickly typing back a response saying he was ten minutes out, then shutting his phone back off and continuing his drive home. the closer he got to his childhood home, the more the memories flooded his senses involving the scenery around him.

he passes by the gas station where he’d learned to pump gas at fourteen. or the turnoff where this very truck had broken down one july. or maybe what really got him was the familiar grove of trees he passed everyday that his dad swore would never grow straight. they hadn’t.

he turns onto the familiar gravel road leading to his family’s property. the tires hum beneath him, stones kicking up behind him. the gate appeared around the bend, the mailbox leaning the same way it had since jake accidentally threw a baseball at it one summer. his truck slowed to a crawl, headlights illuminating the worn boards of the metal sign with the family name still bolted to the post.

jake reaches out the window, unlatches the gate, and nudges it open with one hand. the hinges squeal, reminding him of the time his mom fussed at his dad to take some wd-40 to the hinges. he pulls through, stops his truck again, and closes the gate. dust rose around his worn boots, catching the last shreds of light like smoke.

the seresin house sat a hundred yards up the driveway, framed by oak trees and the faint silhouette of the barn beyond. the roof glowed a dull bronze in the setting sun, and the porch light danced between on and off, settling to stay on. as if it were a single warm eye waiting for him.

he cuts the engine, just sitting outside his house for a minute, hands still gripping the wheel. he listens to the cicadas sing in the grass, to the creak of the barn, and to his own heartbeat steadying down.

everything looked the same.

maybe a little smaller. or maybe he was a little older now.

he exhales slow, pushing the truck door open. warm air envelops him into a hug, smelling faintly of smoke from someone’s chimney down the road. the dust on the driveway glowed pale under the porch light. jake grabs his duffel from the passenger seat, swinging it over one shoulder, shutting the door with a solid, and familiar metallic thud. the sound itself rolls across the yard, and a dog’s bark echoes somewhere near the barn.

he reeks up the path toward the house, boots whispering against the gravel as his heart begins to loosen at the sight of that familiar front door. his boots thud softly against the wooden steps, and he comes to a halt in front of the screen door. he hears faint voices coming from inside. two feminine ones.

home.

jake was home.

he grabs the metal handle, the door squealing, tugging a smile out of jake. his dad had sworn every summer that he’d fix it along with the gate since jake was sixteen. he never had.

the porch boards flex under jake’s boots, a pair similar to his sat just by the frame of the door, more scuffed and caked in a layer of red dust. his dad’s. the porch light above him hummed faintly, attracting the attention of tiny moths and other insects.

jake’s hand hesitates on the main door handle. he hadn’t been gone in years, not really, but deployments had a way of making time stretch on longer than needed. he draws in a breath, immediately taking in the scent of cedar, dry grass, and whatever his mom cooked for dinner as he pushes the door open.

warmth hits him first. then his mother’s voice.

“jake? sweetheart is that you?” her voice carried from the kitchen, ridden with disbelief.

he barely had time to close the door before she rounds the corner, apron still on and towel still in her hands. her hair was pinned up the same way she always had done it while she was cooking, even when jake was little. for half a second, the two of them froze, taking each other in and measuring the distance time had tried to build. then she was moving.

“jake.” her arms wrapped around him before he could respond. he laughs, wrapping one arm tightly around her shoulders, the other still clutching his duffel. she smelled the same she always had—of rosemary and laundry detergent.

“hey mama,” he says quietly, the drawl softening with each word. he knows for a fact if the daggers were here, they’d be making fun of him for being a softy and wondering where hangman went. but when jake seresin is home, he’s just that. jake. no hangman, no cockiness. just jake.

“lord, look at you,” she murmured, leaning back to study his face. “thinner. muscular. and tanner. you been eatin’ proper food, or just whatever they got on base?”

jake grins. “define ‘proper.’” she swats his shoulder lightly, eyes flashing with relief and then calls over it—

“luke! lottie! he’s here!” jake looks to his right and sees his father making his way from the backyard, undoubtedly where he was grilling, and his little sister in tow. as soon as he crosses the corridor, jake is able to see just how grayer around the temples his father is. his shoulders are still broad, and he still carries himself like a man who spends 95% of his time outdoors.

“‘bout time you came home,” his dad said, voice even with proudness beneath it. his parents were always proud in everything he did.

jake stepped forward and met him halfway, their handshake turning into a hard hug, no need for word between them.

“truck still runs,” jake said once they pulled apart.

“‘course it does,” his dad answered surely. “didn’t raise a son who’d leave an engine sittin’ for too long to die out.” jake grins and his father steps aside, presenting his younger sister.

“jake!” charlotte “lottie,” was pushing twenty, and still in college. yet, when it came to seeing her older brother, that didn’t matter. she practically tackles jake into a hug, as he laughs and lifts her off her feet, muffling her laughter against his shoulder.

“easy there kid,” he said, setting her down on the wooden floor. “you might knock me back out the door.”

“you look the same,” she pulls back to study him. “i mean, different, but somehow still the same. and you didn’t even text me when you landed.” she adds the last part, playfully shoving him.

“i did, lottie. ten minutes out, remember?” she frowns

“oh, right. my phone must’ve died.” jake shakes his head, amused.”

“figures.” his mother ushers them all to the kitchen where the scent of steak, mac n cheese, and bread filled the air. the table was already set, five plates and silverware laid just slightly uneven, like she’d done it in a rush.

“sit, sit,” she says, making jake set down his duffel, dropping it by the stairs. “you can unpack later, your room’s exactly the way you left it. i promise.” that sentence makes jake glance up, eyebrows raising and warmth filtering in behind his eyes.

“even the posters?”

“every single one,” she replies smiling.

they all gather around the table and jake takes in account the empty spot at the table with the extra plate.

“mama, why the extra plate?” headlights then sweep across the windows, as if timed perfectly and another car lurches up the driveway, his mom’s face lighting up.

“that plate is for your older sister,” she said. “she left work early to get here on time for family dinner.” jake’s heart did a small jump. he hadn’t seen her in nearly a year. she was always the calm counterweight to his teasing. the one who kept everyone grounded when him and charlotte were busy trying to one-up each other.

a door slams outside, breaking his thoughts, and he hears quick footsteps on gravel, the screen door soon opening, the front door following suit.

“anybody home?”

jake pushes his chair back, standing up just as she rounds the corner. her smile instantly spread across her face, tiredness evident from the drive, but still bright nonetheless.

“jake,” she said, softly laughing. “look at you.” he meets her halfway, pulling his—shorter—older sister into a tight hug.

“missed you too, caroline,” he says quietly. she steps back, still grinning.

“you didn’t even tell me when you’d get here. i had to bother mom for updates.” he shrugs as if it’s the most easiest thing in the world.

“i wanted to surprise you,” he said. “looks like it worked.” she shoves him and then she takes her seat at the table beside him.

“alright, now that caroline is here, we can bless the food and dig in.” his mom says and they all agree. one thanking of the lord later, and they’re all eating together, conversation flowing easily. ranging from stories of his flight home, updates about the neighbors, jokes about how his dad refuses to retire his flip-phone, charlotte filling everyone in on college gossip, and caroline filling everyone in on her daughter and work.

somewhere between his bites of his dinner roll does jake realize just how much he missed the ordinary rhythm of his family and their voices overlapping. he missed the normalcy of family dinners. granted, he loved family dinner nights with the daggers + mav, but he yearned for his blood family. dishes were being passed around as everyone got seconds, the steady comfort of clinking silverware and laughter filling every corner of the home.

later, after plates were cleared an stories started to die down, jake leaned back in his chair as his eyes wandered to the window. the backyard was beyond black now, stars sharp and limitless above the tree line. the sound of crickets rose and settled into a faint hum along the cicadas beneath the talk inside the house.

that’s when he felt it. a strange, grounding peace that he only felt when being home. the same porch where he shared his first kiss with a girl on in the eleventh grade. the same kitchen that he’d walk into every year half-awake on his birthday to find a stack of pancakes and whipped cream on top. the same backyard he used to chase fireflies with his sisters in at night as kids. the same people who never cared what he’d done or how far he’d gone, as long as he came back alive.

when the evening started to thin and the memories flooded in, his mom quietly joins him, placing a hand on his shoulder as he sits in a rocking chair on the back porch.

“go to caroline’s tomorrow for halloween. she’s been askin’ when you’d stop by. beside, your niece misses you, too.” jake nods

“yeah, i’ll spend the day with her tomorrow.” he stood and stretched

“‘m gonna get my suitcase from the truck.” he places a kiss on his mom’s temple, stepping off the porch. the air was cooler now, the night thick with the scent of soil and summer. fireflies twinkled lazily across the yard, and his truck sat right where he left it. he gets to his truck door and stops for a second. then he smiles. small, real, and content.

tomorrow he’d spend the day in his sister’s neighborhood.

but tonight, he was home.

⛰︎ ོ ༄

the first sound jake heard upon waking up was a dove cooing on the windowsill. the second was the distant lowing of cattle somewhere across his family’s pasture. he lay still for a minute, blinking up at the ceiling fan as it rotated round and round like clockwork. morning light pushed through the blinds in narrow, golden stripes, stretching themselves across the bedspread, his arm, and the floor. for a second, jake almost forgot where he was. then, the smell of coffee and biscuits ascended from downstairs, and the sound of his mother humming some tune sealed it: home.

he sat up, stretching until his shoulders popped, a soft grunt escaping him. the air in his childhood room was cooler than he remembered, the faint scent of dust and cedar, however, still sticking to the walls. on the dresser sat a stack of worn baseball hats, a line of fading photos from high school, and one small, crooked model jet. undoubtedly one he’d built the summer before he left for annapolis. jake rubs a hand over his jaw and smiles.

“guess you never changed a thing, huh, mom.”

downstairs, the house whispered with quiet movement: dishes, footsteps, a radio playing an old song. jake dressed comfortably—old jeans, a plain white t-shirt, and his boots worn just enough to feel right again. his dog tags glinted faintly against the cotton when he saw them in the mirror, and he tucked them away beneath his shirt.

the kitchen was lit up from the sunrise when he finally came downstairs. his mom looked up from the stove, spatula in hand.

“mornin’ dear,” she said smiling. “you sleep alright?”

“like a rock,” he said, grabbing a ‘navy dad’ mug from the rack. “didn’t know how much i missed the quietness.” she laughs softly

“you forget how loud the city is when you’ve been gone too long.”

he fills the mug up with coffee, the dark liquid steaming against the cool morning air. through the kitchen window, the fields stretched out in waves of dew-bright grass. his dad’s truck was already gone from the spot he’s always parked it in over the years—gone off to town, no doubt. his little sister’s car sat near jake’s truck, dust on the windshield catching stray rays of the morning light.

“caroline called,” his mom said, sliding a plate of biscuits toward him. “said she’ll be home most of the day for whenever you want to stop by.” jake leaned against the counter, taking a bite of a biscuit and nodding.

“i’ll head out after i shower. that’ll give her time to wake up.”

“you know, it means a lot to her that you’re here.” he only smiles in return, sipping his coffee and letting the warmth sink down and settle. he missed this: the simplicity, the easy rhythm of the morning without briefing schedules or the heavy twang of jet fuel lingering in the air, or the ever-present buzz of the carrier deck. just sun, a kitchen that smelled like butter and coffee, and endless miles of grass.

by mid-morning, the heat started to roll in. jake grabbed his keys, kissed his mom’s temple, and stepped out onto the porch, taking in the view. he missed this. the sky wide open and blinding, the air thick with the scent of mesquite and grass, and no plane in sight.

his old truck sat where he left it, streaked with dust and nostalgia. he climbs in, turns the ignition, and after two tries it relents, rumbling to life, then he rolls the windows down. the familiar hum of the truck is all he feels as he drives down the dirt road leading away from his family’s property. wild sunflowers had bloomed, dotting the pastures with a gorgeous yellow. he hears a faint creaking in the distance of an old windmill turning lazily. he passes by a pair of horses grazing near the fence line, and they briefly lift their heads just long enough to watch jake’s truck coast by.

with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on the open window frame, jake makes his way to caroline’s neighborhood, the wind tugging at his hair peeking out of his baseball cap. a country station played lowly in the background—something old, something his father used to play in his truck years ago when jake was just a child. sure enough, the landscape began to shift from open fields to smaller homesteads with clusters of live oaks.

it had been too long since he’d had a stretch of time that wasn’t consumed by takeoffs and flight sims. he wondered if he’d gotten too used to the fast-paced way of life that he forgot what it was like to breathe. to take things once at a time instead of all at once. maybe that’s why he’d been so restless last night, lying awake even after a day of travel, his eyes tracing the faint glow-in-the-dark dinosaurs on his ceiling that had been there since he was five.

his truck slows at a stop sign near a shell gas station. the same gas station that he’d learn to change a tire at. it looked exactly the same, just a new coat of paint and a fresh “ICE” sign bolted to the front. he smiled faintly. the paint and sign might’ve been new, but the memories sure weren’t. everything here was a stark reminder of how much he felt like he was suffocating back in california.

a few more turns and the road opened into his sister’s neighborhood. rows of modest, brick houses were each adorned with a porch swing or a flag fluttering from the eave. a couple bikes were propped against fences, plastic skeletons dangled from trees, and paper bats were taped to mailboxes. halloween was in full-bloom.

it didn’t take long for jake to spot his sister’s house immediately. it was resting at the end of the street near the cul-de-sac. blue shutters, wide porch, a carved pumpkin or two proudly on the steps. it was caroline. her husband’s truck was parked in the driveway, next to a little tricycle that had been knocked over onto its side. undoubtedly his niece’s doing.

jake eased into the curb, cutting the engine and sitting for a moment. he let the quiet settle around him. from here, he could hear the faint laughter of kids a few houses over, the bark of a small dog, and the rustling of leaves as the wind pushed through them. the neighborhood smelled faintly of barbecue, smoke, and pine needles. it felt safe. peaceful. definitely a good place to raise kids and have a family. he smiles to himself—half nostalgic, half something else. the kind of warmth that only came from knowing the world was still capable of being simple.

he opens the door, boots hitting the pavement with a solid thud. the sunlight caught the edge of his aviators as he slid them on, a lazy grin tugging at his mouth. he looked up at the porch, catching the faint motion of a curtain shifting inside.

“let’s see what you’ve been up to, sis,” he mutters, shutting the truck door behind him. the october air was warm against his skin, somewhat cooler than california.

jake’s grin softens.

it was good to be back.

the front door swings open before he even had a chance to make it to the porch.

“jake,” his sister’s voice carried the familiar tone of happiness upon seeing her younger brother again. she stood in the doorway with her hands on her hips, catching the golden threads in her hair.

“mornin’ stranger,” he greets back, smiling wide.

“you didn’t even call first and give me a heads up.” he laughs, taking the steps two at a time.

“where’s the fun in that?” caroline rolls her eyes & jake laughs, meeting halfway with his older sister in a hug that squeezed the air out of both of them. she smelled like fabric softener mixed with baby shampoo, the same scent her house had always carried. the two step inside, jake shutting the door behind him.

“mom won’t stop bragging that you’re home to everybody. i’ve already had three neighbors ask if the pilot son’s around to fix their sprinklers.”

“tell ‘em i charge by the hour.” a smaller voice interrupts them.

“uncle jake?” he barely has time to look down before a flash of curls and denim barreled into his legs. delilah’s arms wrap tightly around his calves, her little face pressed into his knee.

“well hey there, darlin’,” he said, scooping her up into his arms. “you get taller everytime uncle jake sees you.” she grins, missing one of her front teeth.

“mama said you fly airplanes.”

“that’s right. fast ones. you like airplanes?” she nods, her already falling ponytail bouncing.

“can you take me with you next time?” he laughs, eyes crinkling.

“maybe when you get taller.”

delilah seemed to consider his offer, thinking hard. she then leans close, whispering in his ear, “i can wear tall shoes.”

caroline stifles a laugh from behind them and jake winks at his niece.

“i’ll see what we can do.”

“pinky promise?” she extends her tiny pinky out to him and jake entwines his with hers.

“pinky promise.” he sets her back down and she takes off running somewhere and jake finally has time to take everything in: family photos lined the hallway, delilah’s toys were tucked neatly into baskets, and sunlight spilled through the kitchen windows. it was smaller than him and caroline’s childhood home, but still held the same warm, lived-in presence that made everything feel soft around the edges.

his brother-in-law, hunter, rounds the corner out of the kitchen, wiping his hands on a dish towel.

“look what the cat dragged in,” he said, grinning. jake clasps his hand, shaking it.

“good to see you, man.”

“you too. welcome back. oh, you hungry? we have extra leftovers from breakfast.”

“i’m good,” jake shook his head. “mom fed me like she’s trying to fatten me up before i head back. said i look skinnier.” they all laugh, easy and familiar.

for a while, the morning goes by gently. they all sat at the table, coffee steaming between them, as they traded stories about home repairs, work, and the kind of local gossip that never changed. delilah was perched in jake’s lap, coloring a picture of a pumpkin patch, every so often glancing up to ask jake a question about planes. never going as far as asking if fighter jets had buttons that made rainbow smoke. the answer: only on special occasions. that was enough to convince her completely.

by noon, the sun was high in the sky, strong enough to send long shadows crawling over the yard. hunter heads out to mow the grass, Jake following suit with a glass of sweet tea in hand, telling his sister it's too early for a beer. he was half-helping and half leaning on the fence while they talked. the sound of cicadas rose steady in the october heat, the smell of grass clinging to the air.

"appreciate you coming out," hunter said over the mower's idle hum. "caroline's been swamped between work and delilah. she's glad to have you as company." jake shrugs, genuine.

"i've been lookin' forward to it. things just haven't slowed down in months on base and when they finally did, i bought the earliest flight to texas." hunter smiles knowingly.

"you still plan on heading back after the holidays?"

"yeah," jake said, eyes on the horizon. "duty calls." they fell into a quiet kind of silence that wasn't awkward, just full of shared understanding. inside, laughter spills through the screen door, delilah's, high and bright. caroline's followed, softer but just as warm.

when they all regrouped for lunch, jake found himself talking more than he intended to. he told them all small stories from life on base, the side nobody tells anybody about. the harmless pranks, training flights, and after-work shenanigans at the hard deck.

"you ever think about settling down somewhere?" she proposes the question casually, cutting into her sandwich. Jake just smirks.

"you offering me a place to stay?"

"you could do worse than here," she said, half-serious. "we've got good schools, quiet neighbors. you could actually get some sleep for once. don't think i don't see those bags under your eyes, jacob."

"sleep's overrated," he teases, but his gaze drifts out the window toward the quiet street. kids' bikes gleamed under the sun, a few jack-o'-lanterns sat crooked on porches. maybe, he thought, she had a point.

after lunch, delilah begged jake to play outside with her. he agreed and the two spent nearly an hour in the yard chasing bubbles and him pretending not to see her sneak up on him with a plastic water gun. he let her win, of course, but she squealed when he surrendered, laughing so hard she hiccuped.

"you got me, lilah," he said, hands raised. "i'm defenseless." her cheeks were flushed, curls sticking to her forehead.

"you're funny, uncle jake." he ruffles her hair.

"thank you sweetheart. at least one person thinks so."

when the heat finally broke, the two retreated to the porch. caroline handed him another glass of sweet tea and sinks into the chair beside him, watching delilah draw chalk pumpkins and cats on the walkway leading to the porch steps.

"you're good with her," she said quietly, and jake almost missed it. but he shrugs, smiling.

"she's easy to love."

"i think she's missed having you around. last week she drew a picture of an airplane and said it was 'uncle jake's airplane.'" that tugged at something in his chest—gentle but deep.

"i'll have to hang it up in my house," he said, voice coming out softer than he expected. they sat in companionable silence after that, the breeze starting to thread itself through the crepe myrtle trees, the afternoon slowly giving way to golden light.

the first cool edge of evening rolled in, and caroline glanced towards the kitchen window where paper bats fluttered in the glass.

"so," she said, tone suddenly too casual. "we might need a little favor from you tonight." jake raised an eyebrow at that.

"sounds ominous." she only grins in response, the signature seresin grin.

"we promised delilah we'd take her trick-or-treating around seven. problem is, someone has to stay back and hand out candy. you—" she points her finger at her brother—"are conveniently available." jake laughs, shaking his head.

"you're really ropin' me into this, huh?"

"c'mon, jakey," she pulls out the nickname she hasn't called him since they were kids, knowing he'd cave at it. "you love kids. and it'll give you an excuse to wear your full cowboy getup. mama said it's still in your closet." it was in his truck, actually, but she was right.

he shakes his head, smiling despite himself. "you're not serious."

"oh as serious as a heart attack."

from the walkway, delilah perked up. "uncle jake's gonna hand out candy?"

caroline grins again, triumphant. "see? she loves the idea." jake sighs theatrically, though his smile lingers.

"alright, alright," one more alright and you could've mistaken him for matthew mcconaughey. "but i'm keepin' the good chocolate for myself."

"wouldn't expect anything less," she said, standing and gathering their glasses. as she goes inside to refill them, delilah runs over to jake and climbs into his lap, sticky-fingered and content. she leans her head against his chest and sighs.

"will you scare the trick-or-treaters when they come?" jake brushes a stray curl from her forehead and rubs her back.

"maybe just a little bit."

the sun continues to descend in the sky, painting the neighborhood in an amber light. jake looks out across the quiet street, knowing that later it'll become a lot louder. halloween decorations started to glow as porch lights started to flicker on one by one.

"candy duty," he murmurs, shaking his head with a faint smile. "guess i'm not goin' anywhere tonight." jake stands up, taking delilah with him as he heads inside the house. he places her down on the couch and she raced down the hall into a room, and jake walks into the kitchen where caroline is. she hands him his now refilled glass of sweet tea and he takes a sip, sighing in content.

"don't even start complaining," she warned, rinsing a bowl in the sink. "you'll be fine. besides, delilah wants every kid in the neighborhood to know that her uncle's the cowboy pilot." jake pretends to sigh, though the corner of his mouth was betraying him as he fought a grin. it was all domestic, slow, and too easy to sink into. he hadn't realized how much he'd missed this rhythm: the echo of boots on tile, the way laughter carried from one room to another.

caroline head down the hall where the sound of rustling was growing louder. jake leaned against the counter, continuing to sip his sweet tea, watching the sunlight crawl across the floorboards. it'd been a long time since he's experienced a fall in texas, and he missed it. the simplicity of it all—jack-o'-lanterns on porches, the faint smell of bonfires, and leaves drifting across streets and yards.

by the time he finishes his tea, delilah came racing into the kitchen, half-dressed in a shimmering witch costume, purple tulle flying behind her.

"look, uncle jake!" she squealed, spinning in a circle. "do i look scary?"

"terrifyin'," he said solemnly. "i reckon i'll have nightmares for a week minimum." she gasped delightedly and ran off again, calling for her dad to help her with her hat.

jake chuckled and stretched, wandering to look out the window. the late-afternoon sky was turning that shade of gold that jake's only experienced in texas; the kind that promised the chill would come soon, but not yet. he could see the edge of his sister's neighborhood from where he stood: clean sidewalks, kids already starting to parade the streets with parents in tow, dogs in costumes that made him laugh under his breath and shake his head.

hunter emerges from the room where delilah and caroline were, holding a box of decorations.

"mind giving me a hand with these? thought we'd make our house look more festive."

"sure thing," jake said, grabbing a jack-o'-lantern from the top of the box.

outside, the air felt cooler, softer. the sound of crickets was starting up beneath the hum of laughter and distant chatter. together, they lined up jack-o'-lanterns along the steps of the porch, candles flickering behind the carved faces. the two set up the rest of the decorations on the porch.

"you're really gonna' wear the full cowboy getup?" hunter eyes the saddlebag sitting in jake's passenger seat of his truck. "boots, spurs, hat, the works?"

jake smirked. "if i'm handin' out candy, might as well dress up too. give the people a show."

hunter laughed. "fair enough. just don't scare the toddlers."

"no promises." the two finished up and went back inside where the energy of the house had shifted—more frantic now, filled with the rustle of candy bags and last-minute adjustments. caroline was trying to tie the ribbons on delilah's costume while hunter hunted for his keys.

"you guys have fun. i'll keep the porch light on so you can find your way back home." hunter laughs and caroline smiles. that soft, grateful look siblings share when they both know what the other means but don't say it aloud. the kind they'd share when the other would cover for each other in their teen years.

"you're a good one, jake."

he shrugged. "don't let that rumor get back to base. everyone will think hell has frozen over."

the clock above the stove ticked closer to dusk. jake disappeared out the door and to his truck, grabbing his duffel, unzipping it and pulling out the outfit he'd brought half as a joke: pressed jeans, chaps, a pearl-snap shirt, a leather vest, and the wide-brimmed hat that used to hang on a nail in his childhood room. his boots were worn but clean, the kind that creaked when he walked.

by the time he headed inside and changed, delilah was ready. her eyes went wide when she saw him.

"uncle jake, you really are a cowboy pilot!" he crouched down to her height, tapping the brim of his hat toward her.

"born and raised, darlin'." she giggled and threw her arms around his neck.

"you have to say 'howdy' to everybody, okay? even the babies."

"got it. full-service cowboy." caroline laughed and pulled her coat on, hunter already holding delilah's bucket.

"say cheese you two," caroline said, and jake turned to face his sister, propping delilah on his knee and smiling wide. she snaps a picture and smiled at it, claiming that the seresin charm never fades.

"okay, we'll be back around eight," she said. "don't eat all the kit-kats."

"no promises there, either." he grabs the bags of candy, following them out the door and shutting it behind him, watching as they all walk down the driveway. delilah's small figure skipped between her parents, her witch hat bobbing with every step. the streetlights had came alive one by one, halos of soft orange and yellow in the cooling dark.

when their silhouettes finally vanished down the block, the quiet rolled in gentle and complete. jake turned back toward the singular lawn chair sitting on the porch, the rhythm of spurs faint against the concrete. he took a deep breath of air that smelled faintly of smoke and sugar, then sat down in the chair he'd set up earlier. the bowl was already piled high with chocolate bars, and he tipped his hat down, grinning to himself.

the first trick-or-treaters came early—tiny superheroes and princesses and a toddler dressed like a pumpkin who stared up at him with wide, unblinking eyes. jake played his role easily, saying howdy to every kid like he promised delilah, and handing out candy, tipping his hat and calling them 'partner.' the parents laughed, a few neighbors waved. he kept his grin wide, but his thoughts wandered between the spaces of conversation, sliding back to old memories of dusty evenings, things that felt a thousand miles far from the roar of an engine or the salt sting of the sea air.

the night deepened slow, the sky dimming to velvet. laughter echoed up and down the street; porch lights blinking like fireflies. every so often, jake leaned back, snagging a kit-kat and watching the silhouettes pass in the amber wash of streetlamp. he hadn't realized how much he'd missed this kind of noise: the good kind, the kind that didn't come from machinery or orders shouted over comms, but from life itself. the buzz of a community breathing around him.

every few minutes, a new batch of kids came trotting up the driveway, princesses with crooked tiaras, superheroes capes whipping in the wind, a pair of brothers dressed as mario and luigi who giggled so hard their mustaches came off. jake greeted each one with a 'howdy' and tipped his hat at them, voice pitched low and steady as he handed out candy. the bowl was starting to get low so he opened a bag, dumping more candy inside and mixing it a little.

"evenin' partner," he told one boy in a foam sheriff vest. "nice badge you got there." the boy's mom laughed from the sidewalk, and jake's smile was genuine. it was easy to slip into the drawl, easy to make these small moments feel like habit. for once, there was nothing to chase, no horizon line waiting to be crossed. just this. making people smile.

he leaned back in the chair, spurs clicking softly as he stretched his legs. there were kit-kat wrappers scattered near his boots, simmering faintly in the light. the smell of roasting pumpkin seeds drifted from somewhere down the street. he could see his breath now, thin ribbons that vanished almost as soon as they appeared. it wasn't cold enough for a jacket yet, but the kind of cold that hinted winter wasn't far.

jake rubbed his palms together, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. from where he sat, the world looked still. moths flickered around the porch light like tiny ghosts. a jack-o'-lantern grinned lopsided beside him, its candle burning low.

somewhere down the block, delilah's laughter rang out, him recognizing it instantly, clear as a bell, and he smiled to himself. his sister's voice followed, muffled but happy. he imagined her holding delilah's hand, hunter trailing behind them. the image came easy and clear: their faces flushed from walking, the bucket of candy heavy. he'd never say it out loud, but part of him liked knowing they were out there. that this street, these people, kept going when he wasn't around. there was comfort in the idea that life continued in his absence, that he could come home and fit right back into it for a day or two.

a little girl dressed as a bumblebee toddled over to the table, tripping over her tutu. jake caught her candy bag before it hit the ground, and crouched down to help her gather the dropped pieces. her parents thanked him from the curb, and when she finally scampered off, he stayed crouched for a second longer, the concrete cool beneath his boots, before standing up and dusting off his jeans.

the wind picked up again, rattling the dry oak leaves across the street, sounding like tiny waves breaking. he pulled his hat lower against the chill, glancing up at the sky. stars were starting to prickle through the deep navy haze, clouds glowing faint from the moonlight. it hit him then how far from the noise of his usual life he really was. out there, on base, everything was a rush. launch schedules, static over comms, adrenaline threaded into every heartbeat. here, even the silence felt alive.

a dog barked somewhere in the distance, houses started to settle deeper into the evening. he reached for another kit-kat, tossing the wrapper in the small pile accumulating beside him. he thought of all the halloweens he'd missed, of letters from home he'd meant to answer, of delilah's drawings featuring him that caroline sometimes mailed with folded edges and glitter still clinging to the paper.

he'd told himself he wasn't sentimental. he'd built this whole persona that hangman didn't do emotions. that wasn't him. but at home, he wasn't hangman. he was jake. and jake was sentimental and felt as much emotions as a pregnant woman. he felt that small ache of wanting to stay just a little longer than he should. to make up for every time he'd wanted to come home but hadn't.

a breeze stirred again, cooler this time. he turned slightly, eyes drifting across the street, scanning the slow procession of families moving between houses. costumes blurred into colors of red capes, silver tiaras, and masks flashing under porch lights.

two figures were slowly approaching him. a woman and a little boy. they were a few houses down. the boy wore a cowboy hat a size too big, his boots slapped against the pavement as he tried to keep up with his mom. the woman's hand rested lightly on his shoulder when he stumbled, steadying him. her laughter was soft enough that even from this distance, jake could hear it clearly. he didn't know why them in particular caught his eye, but they did.

something in the way she bent to adjust his hat, gentle and patient, made him pause. she said something he couldn't quite decipher, and the boy threw his arms wide as if to protest, his small voice loud in the night. she just smiled though, and brushed his cheek with her thumb, guiding him forward again.

the closer they approached, the more the porch light reached for them, pulling color out of the shadows. the boy's hat gleamed brown, his toy sheriff's badge catching the glow. jake straightened a little in his chair, the spurs giving a quiet jingle. the breeze carried the faintest trace of her perfume. warm, like vanilla and something floral beneath it. she lifted her head at that exact moment, eyes meeting his across the few feet of space that separated them.

neither of them spoke.

the boy's small boots made noise against the concrete, the sound threading through the hum of the crickets in the back. the world around them kept moving, porch lights kept flickering, children shouting, but for a heartbeat, everything else fell quiet.

jake's fingers stilled on the edge of the candy bowl. the wind tugged at the brim of his hat, but he was barely focusing on that.

he just looked at her.

the boy then tugged on her sleeve, eager for candy, and she leans down as he says something in her ear. she then looked back at jake and back at the boy, smiling and laughing, saying something to him. jake blinked, throat dry from the cold, and finally he composed himself.

jake watched as the little boy, around delilah's age, came closer to him. he was grinning from ear to ear, pumpkin bucket swinging in one hand, the other loosely clasped in his mother's. she followed a few steps behind, keeping pace with that careful patience only parents seemed to have. her hair caught the faint light from the porch, and the fabric of her sweater brushed lightly against her arm as she waved at someone from across the street.

jake couldn't stop the small smile tugging at his mouth. the boy slowed down when he saw the candy bowl balanced on jake's knee and the spurs glinting faintly under the porch light. for a moment, the boy's face lit with pure delight—another cowboy, right in front of him.

"well, howdy there, partner," jake said, voice low and easy. the boy froze halfway up the walkway, eyes widening like he'd just met a celebrity.

"you're a cowboy too!" he blurted, his accent soft but clear. jake just chuckled.

"guess i am. you keepin' the town safe tonight?" the boy puffed his chest out.

"yessir. got a badge right here."

"that so?" jake leaned forward, feigning inspection. "looks official to me." behind the boy, she smiled. the quiet, almost shy kind of smile that didn't ask for attention, she just got it from her pure beauty.

"come on, rhett," she murmured. "say thank you and happy halloween." the boy, rhett, reached into the bowl, carefully choosing a piece of candy before looking up again.

"hey, you can get more than one piece," jake tips his hat down at rhett and his face lights up, immediately reaching his tiny hand back in the bowl and grabbing a handful of candy, tossing it in his bucket.

"thank you, mister cowboy."

"anytime, sheriff." she laughed softly then, the sound catching jake a little off guard. it was light and warm, like something he hadn't realized he needed to hear. it settled in the middle of his chest, wrapping around him like a hug. when she met his eyes, there was that split second, a polite flicker, recognition of kindness, before she looked away.

"sorry," she apologized, still smiling. "he's been waiting all week to wear that costume."

"no need to apologize," jake said. "he's got the look down. hat and all." rhett straightened, clearly proud, and tugged at her hand.

"mama, he talks like uncle dean!" she looks down at him and her gaze softens.

"yeah he does, doesn't he?" rhett nods and for a moment, none of them said anything. the wind moved through the trees again, sending a chill through jake, but it doesn't faze him.

"you visiting?" she asked, breaking the silence, then quickly added, "sorry, i don't mean to pry. you just have a home for the holidays kinda feel to ya'"

"it's alright," he said. "yeah. home for a few weeks. my sister lives here. the one with the inflatable ghosts in the yard." she laughed, glancing toward the lawn.

"yeah, those are pretty hard to miss." jake smiled, rubbing the edge of his thumb along the handle of the candy bowl.

"yeah, she's got more holiday spirit than the rest of us combined. and lord, my niece takes after her in that department." there was an ease forming between them now, the kind that came not from familiarity, but from quiet understanding. two people standing at opposite ends of a long day, finding a moment of calm between the noise. she shifts rhett's bucket to her other hand, her eyes tracing over jake's costume.

"you actually went all out," she said, nodding toward his boots. "even got the spurs." jake grinned faintly

"my sister's idea. said i'd scare off the teenagers."

"does it work?" he tilted his head, feigning thinking.

"so far, so good."

meanwhile rhett had crouched down to inspect the spurs, fascinated by the gleam.

"mama, can i get boots like his?" she laughed softly

"they'll weigh you down, sweetheart." jake looks down at him, amused.

"maybe next year, sheriff. when you've got a few more arrests under your belt." rhett nods solemnly, like he'd just been handed an important assignment. she shakes her head, the corners of her mouth lifting again.

"now you've done it. he'll be talking about boots for months."

"sorry 'bout that," jake said, though his tone was far from regretful.

"don't be. he could use a hobby that isn't trying to lasso the cat." that emits a laugh out of jake, low and genuine, the sound carrying softly into the street. she smiled again, smaller this time, but it lingered longer. comfortable and more fragile. then rhett tugged her sleeve.

"mama, can we go to the big house with the fog machine now?" she brushed his hair out his face, nodding.

"alright, last house." jake watched as she adjusted his hat and smoothed his jacket before they turned to leave. her hand lingered at the small of his back as she guided him down the walkway, her voice low and warm. when she glanced back once, just for a heartbeat, jake was still sitting there, the candy bowl half-empty in his lap and his expression unreadable. except for the faintest trace of something new behind it.

the sound of their footsteps faded down the sidewalk until all that was left was the faint rattle of leaves against the curb. jake sat still for a long moment, thumb tapping the rim of the candy bowl, eyes following rhett and his mother until they disappeared into the amber wash of porch lights. he wasn't sure why he felt the quiet so sharply now. maybe it was the contrast. the way her laugh had slipped into the air so naturally, the way the rhett's voice had filled the night with something that didn't feel like small talk. he could still hear it if he tried. you're a cowboy too!

he leaned back in the texas longhorns lawn chair, boots creaking, and stared across the street. trick-or-treaters still passed in twos or threes, the smell of a distant barbecue mixing with the faint smoke from someone's fire pit. the town's rhythm was slow and easy. every so often, he'd catch a glimpse of his own breath when the breeze shifted. it was cool but not cold, the kind of texas autumn that flirted with winter but never quite let go of summer.

the candy started to thin and he passed out the last few pieces to a pair of teenagers who said a hasty thanks before jogging off, leaving him alone again. he checked his watch; it wasn't late, but the streets had started to quiet down and settle.

jake let the silence fill in the gaps. he thought about how strange it was to be grounded like this: no checklist, no comm chatter, no engine hum vibrating through the floor, no lingering smell of jet fuel. just air, grass, and the rhythmic click of a porch swing behind him. he hadn't realized how tightly wound he'd been until he came home and the quiet pressed up against him and refused to move.

he caught himself glancing down the street again, eyes tracing the direction she'd gone. he didn't even know her name. just that the way she said thank you, soft like she wasn't used to saying it to strangers. there had been something steady in the way she guided rhett. a quiet confidence that stuck with jake more than he'd like to admit. he rubbed a hand over his jaw, smiling faintly to himself. get a grip, seresin. he'd only been home less than a day.

the sound of patter on the concrete pulled him back. delilah's voice rang out into the night air.

"uncle jake! uncle jake!"

he was on his feet before she even made it up the driveway. delilah came barreling toward him, cape flapping, her witch hat slightly askew. she threw her arms around his legs, and he scooped her up with a laugh that came from somewhere deep in his chest.

"hey princess," he said. "you catch all the candy bandits tonight and turn them into frogs?" she nodded, her curls bouncing.

"I got three big chocolate bars and a glow stick!"

"impressive haul. you're a trick-or-treating pro." caroline and hunter joined them, carrying a full and heavy bucket of candy that is far too much for a five year old to consume. she smiled at him, the porch light catching a faint shimmer of glitter in her hair, courtesy of delilah's costume enthusiasm.

"see? you survived candy duty," she said, meeting the two on the porch.

"barely," jake teased, setting delilah down. "couple of sugar-crazed pirates tried to stage a coup."

"should've worn armor and been a knight," hunter said, walking by and clapping him on the shoulder.

"next year i'm charging admission. five bucks a scare." they all laugh and hunter unlocks the door, pushing it open. delilah darts inside, running to the living room floor where her dad dumps her candy out as she sorts it into careful piles. jake sits down with her, helping separate chocolates from gummies while his sister makes herself a drink. this whole scene reminds him of when him, caroline, and charlotte were little and would sort their candy, giving each other what someone didn't like, and making bargains. which, mostly wasn't bargains, but more so theft.

the night mellowed into a soft, familiar family hum of voices overlapping the scraping of wrappers with the occasional bark of a dog outside. it grounded him more than he expected. he could see himself here, in this rhythm of simple, unhurried peace that didn't need to be earned.

when caroline returned, she handed him a beer and sank into the couch behind him. "thanks for holding down the fort. kids behave?"

"mostly. one of them tried to trade me a fun-sized kit-kat for my hat." she just laughed

"i bet you almost said yes." jake grinned but didn't answer. his eyes drifted out the window and towards the sidewalk. his sister noticed his demeanor shift.

"you're thinking hard over there. that's never good." he looks at her and rolls his eyes, standing up from the floor and taking a seat beside her.

"I met a kid tonight. dressed like a sheriff. cute kid. looked just like his mother."

"brown hair, talks a mile a minute?" jake nods, brows furrowed.

"that's rhett." he blinks, shocked. because yeah, that was his name.

"you know him?"

"of course," she smiled, looking at him. "his mom's a friend of mine. they live a few houses down. delilah and rhett have playdates all the time." something in jake's chest tightened. not unpleasant, just sudden.

"oh," he said, trying to come off casual. "didn't realize she was close by."

"yeah. she's usually the one wrangling rhett and a cup of coffee simultaneously." he chuckled softly

"seems right." caroline gave him a curious look, teasing.

"why? you meet her?"

"briefly. came by with rhett. she seemed nice." she smiles in that knowing, older-sister way that made him want to change the subject immediately.

"she is nice. smart too. teaches over at the elementary school rhett and delilah go to. they're in kindergarten together." jake nods slowly

"he's a good kid."

"yeah. she's done a good job raising him," she said, voice softening. "it's just her and rhett most of the time except for when family visits her." he looked at her then, brows furrowed slightly.

"no dad?"

"not for a while. but she doesn't talk about it much, and it's not my business to tell." jake nods, and the thought of her standing there in that quiet confidence, guiding rhett up each walkway settled into him like a warm ache. he didn't know her story, but something about her steadiness had already lingered with him longer than he meant for it to.

delilah's triumphant shout broke his thoughts. "uncle jake, look! all the chocolate fits in one pile!" he smiled down at her handiwork.

"you're a genius, darlin'"

"i know," she said seriously, making caroline and him laugh. the night wound down slowly after that. jake helped hunter carry the leftover decorations into the garage, then paused at the edge of the driveway, looking once more down the quiet street. he smiles to himself and heads back into the house.

"oh, jake," caroline calls out from the kitchen, stirring something in a crock pot.

"yeah?"

"i invited her and rhett over for dinner."

"oh that'll be nice," he tried to play of his nerves to make it seem like he wasn't freaking out internally, but was cool about the whole ordeal. because it's his sister's house, not his. she can invite over anyone she wants. though, he does feel like this was last-minute due to her smirk present on her face.

about ten minutes later, a knock echoes through the house and jake watches as caroline opens the door, seeing her and rhett step inside. mixed with the smell of chili was cinnamon and cumin and something earthy he couldn't quite place. something that reminded him of late autumn evenings at his parents' house when the air cooled down just enough for the smell of wood smoke to cling to the porch.

rhett tugged at her hand, practically vibrating with excitement. "mama, it smells so good!"

"i know, sweetheart. make sure you thank mrs caroline for cooking dinner." the five year old looks up at caroline and gives her an excited 'thank you' and she laughs, ushering the two of them inside.

"jake come here," upon hearing his name, jake rounds the corner of the kitchen, and when his eyes lock with hers, he doesn't want to look away.

"i'd like you to meet my younger brother jake. who was handing out candy for us earlier."

"mister cowboy!" rhett shouts, running to jake and jake crouched down to his eye level.

"hey bud, how's keeping the streets going?"

"good until mama said we had to leave for dinner." jake looked at her and she only gives an eye-roll, but a smile still present on her face.

"well, the best sheriffs gotta eat to stay strong and keep crime at bay." he ponders

"you're right!" jake grins and gives him a high-five as he runs off to find delilah.

"thank you guys for inviting us," her voice was soft. "rhett's been looking forward to this all week." so it wasn't a last minute invite.

"of course. you and rhett are welcome here anytime," caroline says back, with such a comfortable ease that jake can tell she does this a lot for the two.

"i appreciate it. my dad is actually at my house currently, probably watching football and eating rhett's candy with my cat that he swears up and down he doesn't like, cuddled on his lap." she softly laughs and jake just wants to pause the moment and stay here forever. caroline then ushers everyone into the kitchen and lo and behold, hunter was standing by the crock pot, both rhett and delilah staring up at him with pouty eyes.

"please, mister hunter. my mama doesn't have to make my plate, you can."

"rhett," at the mention of his name, he turns around and looks at his mom, ears going red. he walks over to her, tugging her by the pant leg to the kitchen.

"i'm starving and it smells so delicious." she laughs, pouring him some into a bowl with a sprinkle of cheese on the top, per his request, and some crackers.

"wait for everyone else to get their food before we eat, okay?" he nods and takes a seat at the table by delilah who was also waiting for everyone.

the warmth, the smell, the hum of the house, it all made jake's shoulders loosen. he realized he hadn't been this relaxed in months. he watched as she watched the food, the way her eyes lit up for just a moment before flicking back to rhett. soft and careful as to not draw too much attention to herself.

once everyone was sat around the table, they all dug in.

"i love home-cooked meals so much. this is amazing, caroline." jake nods in agreement, letting the words hang. home. the word made a hollow ache in him, reminding him of everything he missed. of the quiet life outside the roar of engines, outside the naval base. of porch lights glowing in the dark, of chili bubbling in the crock pot, of kids laughing without a care in the world.

dinner continued with its small dance of chaos. rhett and delilah continued to trade playful bickering over the last piece of bread, jake swooped in to adjudicate, catching any rogue spoons and handing them back with mock solemnity.

"a good sheriff never leaves a mess behind," he told rhett, who then nodded as if receiving military orders.

"you really know how to make an impression on a five year old," jake looks at her upon hearing her voice and he holds her gaze for a fleeting second, feeling a magnetic pull in his chest.

"it's my specialty," he said, forcing casualness into his tone, though every muscle in him hummed with awareness of her, of the space between them, of the warmth radiating from the room.

the evening unfolded slowly: laughter, clinking silverware, rhett showing off his badge to delilah, and jake feels eyes watching his movements quietly, observing. he also noticed the small things about her, too. the way her hair brushed her shoulder as she reached for a bowl, the gentle tone she used when talking to rhett, the patience that lingered in her gestures. he found himself lingering on each detail longer than intended, a quiet fascination settling in him like a weight he didn't mind carrying.

after dinner and rhett and delilah having a debate over who got the most candy, jake watched her rise and gather her things.

"i think it's time rhett and i head home before him and delilah's debate gets anymore heated. he also needs a bath." caroline laughs and nods, then looks at jake subtly, expectant. his brows furrowed slightly and then he gets what she's doing. his sister is doing the same thing she did when he was in high school. he's trying to get jake to walk his sister's pretty neighbor and her son out to their house. and he's falling for it.

"hey, let me walk you guys home. it's getting dark."

"oh," her brows shot up. "yeah, that'd be nice." she then turns toward the living room.

"rhett michael. come put your coat on and then say your goodbyes." he gets up and puts his jacket on, saying goodbye to everyone except jake.

outside, the crisp night air brushed against his bare arms as he fell into a comfortable step beside her. the leaves crunched beneath their shoes and Rhett skipped ahead, laughing. once they reached her door, they halt to a stop.

"goodbye mister cowboy," rhett wraps his tiny arms around jake's legs and jake crouches, giving him a hug.

"goodbye mr sheriff. you keep these streets safe, okay?" he nods and rushes inside, calling for his grandpa.

"so, uh," jake fidgets with his hands, suddenly aware of how fast his heart was racing. shyness. something rare for him that would have all of the daggers laugh their asses off at if they witnessed it.

she tilts her head at him, encouraging him without pushing. "yes, jake?"

he stalled hard, forcing the words out. casual, but hopeful. "maybe... we could swap numbers? to maybe plan future chili dinner nights, you know?" she softly laughs, looking down at her shoes, then back up at jake, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

"yeah, sure. i need fellow chili loving friends other than your sister and her husband." he laughs at this now and he puts his number in her phone, texting himself a simple hey.

"goodnight, jake." she said, voice gentle and soft.

"goodnight." with that, he made sure she was inside and he turned back towards the street, boots crunching on leaves as he walked back to his sister's house.

"thanks again, for tonight," caroline called from the kitchen as jake headed back into the warm house. "i'm glad you could help out. and especially glad you got to meet one of my friends and her son." she raised her eyebrows up and down at her brother and he groans, covering his face. she just laughs, walking over and handing him a tupperware container with enough chili for him to have seconds for a few days.

"figured you'd want some for dinner tomorrow and some for when you head back to california."

"you truly know me so well." she ruffles his hair, but his mind couldn't stop wandering back to her. her smile. the warmth in her voice. the easy way she handled everything tonight. he had no idea what the future held in store for him, but the small spark between the two of them, quiet and hesitant, he wanted to further pursue.

he bids his goodbyes to caroline, hunter, and delilah, promising to visit before he leaves in two days.

the ride back to his parents' house was quiet. no old country song playing in the back like usual. just him, the hum of the truck, and the sound of the harsh air outside smacking the metal of the vehicle. his windows were cracked, to get some airflow going since his a.c. was as good as dead.

the scenery around him started to go from civilization to endless fields and trees. and it isn't long before he makes it to the familiar gate with the family name on it, and he hops out, opens it, drives through, hops back out, closes it, hops back in his truck, completing his drive down the driveway. however, he lingers in his truck for a little, taking in the serenity of the land at night. albeit, a little scary to some, but those who grew up with it, it's comforting.

he watches the dust particles dance in the headlights for a little before he rolls up the windows, killing the engine. he grabs all of his stuff and heads inside to find every light was shut off. he could hear a faint chatter upstairs and he assumes it's charlotte on the phone with someone, most likely.

setting the giant bowl of chili caroline set him home with, jake slides out of his boots, opting to leave them by the door, and quietly makes his way up the old, wooden steps he'd gone up and down thousands of times. at the end of the hallway on the right sat his bedroom. where it had been all his life.

he places his duffel on the floor near his dresser, it plopping down with a thud. delicately, he takes the cowboy hat off his head, hanging it back in its rightful place on the nail on his wall. the same nail in the wall that he would hang his first cowboy hat he got. things never change.

⛰︎ ོ ༄

the morning after halloween crept in quiet and gray, the kind of stillness that settled after a night of laughter. jake stirred awake to the muffled sound of a coffee maker sputtering somewhere downstairs and the smell of bacon threading through the house. for a second, he forgot he was home. the faded blue walls of his childhood bedroom, the football trophies on his bookshelf, worn-out curtains he refused to replace, and pictures holding memories. then it hit him again: his last full day before flying back west.

he rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling fan, listening to it tick as it spun. his duffel sat by his dresser, half-zipped. his cowboy get up from last night hung on the back of a chair, to be hung up again until it needs to be used. he told himself he'd finish packing after breakfast, but he knew he'd probably put it off until tonight. he always did.

"jake! coffee's ready if you want it hot!" downstairs, his mom's voice carried over the clatter of a skillet.

"coming, mama!" he called back, voice still hoarse from sleep.

the kitchen was warm, sunlight peeking through the lace curtains. his dad was already sat at the table, newspaper folded beside his plate, and reading glasses low on his nose. charlotte sat cross-legged in one of the chairs, phone in hand, hair tied in a messy ponytail and an oversized sweatshirt hanging off one shoulder. she looked up at the sound of footsteps, a teasing smile playing on her face.

“morning, mr. cowboy pilot,” she said. “sleep off all that candy you stole from the kids?” jake huffed a tired laugh, grabbing a mug from the rack.

“i didn’t steal. delilah offered.” charlotte snorted

"you took the kit-kats. you always take them." their mom shook her head, setting down a plate of eggs, toast, and bacon in front of him.

"you two act like you're still ten years old." but she was smiling, the corners of her eyes creasing the way they always had. the way jake's do.

he sat down, wrapping his hands around the mug just enough to feel the warmth. his dad flipped a page of the newspaper, muttering about how the whole town is talking about how good his sister's halloween decorations were at her house.

"she outdid herself," he finishes, taking a large sip out of his mug.

"yeah," jake said softly, eyes flicking toward the window. he could still see it: the orange glow of porch lights, the kids running down sidewalks dressed in head-to-toe costumes, and the woman a few houses down laughing while rhett talked her ear off. he tried not to linger on that last image too long. charlotte nudged him with her foot under the table.

"caroline's thinking of bringing delilah over later so we all can spend your last day home together."

"you sure you don't wanna stay a few more days? flights can be changed, you know." his mom had that faraway tone, she always did when it came to jake leaving.

jake shook his head, swallowing a mouthful of coffee that suddenly tasted more bitter than usual. "i can't, mama. gotta be back for the next rotation." she reached across the table at his words, brushing his hand with her thumb like she used to when he was a kid.

"just means you'll have to come home sooner next time and stay longer."

he gave her a small smile, nodding. "yeah. sooner." but when his mom turned away, the smile faded, eyes tracing the sunlight stretching across the kitchen floorboards. texas mornings had a certain stillness he couldn't find anywhere else. he didn't know if it was the quiet, or the way the house held every version of him that had ever lived in it. the boy who built model planes, the teenager who dreamed of the sky, the man who came home in a uniform that still didn't feel entirely his. and now, sitting there with his family around him, he couldn't shake the feeling that he was about to leave something behind. something small and unspoken that had found its way into his chest sometime between last night and the laughter this morning.

when breakfast was done, his mom shooed them from the kitchen with a dishtowel, saying something about how she'd handle the dishes. charlotte disappeared upstairs a few minutes later, humming along to a song in her earbuds, and his dad retreated to the front porch with the paper tucked under his arm. the same ritual every morning since jake was a kid. the house felt slower after that. like it always did when everyone settled into their own corners of the day.

jake lingered in the kitchen for a moment, then wandered toward the back door, coffee still warm in his hand. the screen creaked when he pushed it open, the familiar sound scraping through his chest with a wave of nostalgia. outside, the air was cool, a faint bite to it that hinted winter wasn't far. the backyard looked smaller than he remembered. the old oak tree still stood in the corner, the one he and his sisters used to swing from on a frayed rope. he leaned against the porch railing, shoulders relaxing as he watched the sunlight sift through the branches.

somewhere, a lawn mower started up. a dog barked. normal, quiet countryside noise. but under it all, there was that pull in his chest. that strange, quiet ache that had been sitting with him since last night. he couldn't shake the image of her. the way she'd laughed, soft and real, while rhett tried explaining the finer details of his costume. the way the street lights caught in her hair. he didn't even know why it stuck with him. maybe it was because, for the first time in a while, he'd felt something easy. something normal.

"thought i'd find you out here." his dad's voice cut through his thoughts, and jake turned to see him stepping onto the porch, mug in hand, paper still tucked under his arm. he settled into the chair beside the door, the wood creaking beneath his weight.

"you always did come out here when you had something on your mind," his dad said, eyes fixed on the yard. jake let out a small breath, half a laugh.

"guess some things never change." they sat there in silence for a while, the kind of easy quiet that came from two people who didn't need to fill it.

his dad spoke again after a minute. "you seem... restless. you always do when you're getting ready to go." jake didn't answer right away. instead, he took a slow sip of coffee, then set the mug down on the railing.

"it's always harder leaving home," he said finally. "even when you're used to it." his dad nodded

"means it's worth comin' back to." jake smiled faintly

"yeah. guess it does." they talked for a while. about charlotte's classes, about how hunter might fix the squeaky door, about how the longhorns didn't stand a chance this season. it was all simple, familiar conversation. the kind of talk that wrapped around him like a blanket he didn't realize he'd missed.

by late morning, the sun had climbed higher in the sky, warming the porch. jake's mom leaned out the kitchen window, calling that lunch would be ready soon. charlotte appeared not long after, hair damp from a shower, and plopped down on the steps beside jake.

"so," she said, bumping her shoulder lightly into his arm. "you all packed yet?" he gave her a sideways glance

"do i ever pack early?" she grinned

"nope. just making sure some things haven't changed." he laughed, shaking his head.

"appreciate the reminder, though." she rested her chin on her knees, watching the grass blow in the wind.

"you know," she said after a moment, "delilah was telling mama how she wants to show you her little art project when she comes over later. she made one for rhett, too."

"that so?"

"mhm. caroline said she's been talking about it for a while. guess she really likes those playdates." he hummed, a quiet, thoughtful sound.

"yeah. they're both good kids. i actually met rhett for the first time last night." charlotte smiled, knowingly.

"and rhett's mom? she's the sweetest." jake gave her a look, but she just raised her hands in mock surrender.

"what?" she said innocently. "i'm just saying. you seemed... different last night." he rolled his eyes, though the corners of his mouth ached to curve up.

"you think too much. now you sound like caroline."

"maybe. or maybe i just notice things like her." before he could respond, their mom called again from inside, telling them to wash up for lunch. charlotte hopped to her feet, brushing off her sweatshirt. jake stayed where he was for a second longer, staring at the field behind the house. he wasn't sure what tomorrow would look like. just that he'd promised to stop by caroline's before leaving. and that, somehow, he had a feeling he wouldn't be the only one there.

the thought lingered as he finally stood and went back inside, the screen door closing behind him with that same soft, familiar creak.

the rest of lunch and the afternoon slipped by quietly. the kind of slow, golden hours that always made time feel thicker in texas. stretched thin between sunlight and memory. jake helped his dad in the garage for a while, tightening hinges and sweeping out dust that never seemed to stop gathering. his mom had music playing throughout the kitchen window, old country songs floating out into the yard like they used to when he was little. every now and then she'd call out for someone to hand her something, her voice soft and familiar in a way that tugged at him.

by late afternoon, the air cooled, the light slanting low through the trees. jake wandered inside to the smell of something roasting: his mom's pot roast by the scent of it. he caught sight of her pulling a tray of biscuits from the oven. she glanced over her shoulder when he entered, cheeks and nose pink from the cold.

"caroline just called," she said, brushing flour from her hands. "she and delilah will be here soon. told me to tell you to save your appetite." jake grinned faintly

"did she now?"

"she did. she also said delilah's been talking about seeing her uncle jake all day." her eyes soften slightly "you know, you going over there yesterday meant a lot to her. she really looks up to you." he smiled softly, leaning against the counter.

"i love spending time with her." his mom smiled, that familiar soft edge to it. the kind that came whenever she thought about him leaving. she didn't say anything, though. just turned back to her cooking, humming along to the radio. by the time the front door opened an hour later, the house was full of that saturday kind of warmth. the sound of the oven timer, the clink of silverware, the murmur of longhorn football on the tv in the other room.

"smells amazing in here," caroline called, stepping inside with delilah in tow. she darted ahead, curls bouncing, pink sneakers squeaking against the tile.

"uncle jake!" jake had barely enough time to turn before she flung herself into his arms, her tiny ones wrapping around his neck. he let out a laugh, rubbing her back.

"hey sweetheart. missed me already?" delilah nodded seriously

"uh huh. i made you something!" he sets her down and she grabs her little backpack caroline was holding, digging into it and pulling out a folded sheet of paper.

"see?" she points at two stick figures. "it's us on halloween! you're the cowboy." he takes the paper carefully, smiling at the uneven crayon lines. him in a hat too big for his head, delilah with a bucket twice her size.

"you made this?"

"uh huh," she smiles proudly. "except, mama helped with the boots."

"well, you did really good," jake said, pride evident in his voice. "i'm gonna have to hang this one up with the others." every drawing caroline had sent in the mail that delilah made him, or every drawing he went home with, was hanging up in his house back in california. some on his fridge. a couple times, the daggers came over and saw them, asking if he had a secret family they didn't know of. he'd just smile proudly and tell them that he had a tiny van gogh called his niece back home in texas that sends him the drawings. delilah always had been his biggest fan.

delilah's grin widened, displaying her missing tooth. "rhett's mama said she also liked my drawing i made of me and him." jake's hands paused where he was folding the picture. for a moment, that same quiet ache stirred, soft and familiar.

"yeah. she's real nice." caroline, who'd been setting down her purse, caught his tone and gave him a look that charlotte was giving him earlier.

"real nice, huh?" he straightened at her words.

"don't start." she only laughed, crossing the kitchen and hugging him tight.

"what? can't a sister joke around with her little brother?"

"not when joking sounds a lot like meddling."

"those are practically in the same ballpark." he shook his head, but when he stepped back, her smile was soft.

"i'm teasing you."

"yeah, yeah."

dinner came together easy after that. the table was crowded. his dad was carving the roast, his mom was dishing mashed potatoes, and charlotte was teasing caroline about the way she still picked the onions out of everything. delilah sat between jake and her mom, talking about school and halloween and how she and rhett built a 'super big leaf pile' at school at recess. jake listened, sometimes chiming in, but mostly just soaking it in. the laughter, the clatter, the comfort.

every now and them, his gaze would drift to the window, the sun dipping below the trees painting the sky a soft gold and pink, fading into the evening.

delilah tugged at his sleeve mid-meal. "uncle jake?"

"yeah, darlin'?"

"can you come play with me and mama tomorrow before you leave? we can have hot cocoa." he hesitated, not because he didn't want to or didn't have the time, but because the thought of leaving after made something twist in his chest. still, he smiled and nodded.

"wouldn't miss it." caroline met his eyes across the table, that same knowing softness there.

"we'll be home all morning. come by whenever."

"i will," he said. and he meant it.

later, after the dishes were done and the sun was well gone, everyone lingered in the living room. his mom and dad trading stories, charlotte showing caroline this guy she liked on her phone, and delilah curled up against jake's side with her head on his shoulder. he brushed a hand over her hair absentmindedly, eyes far away but content.

"hey," caroline said quietly, catching his gaze over delilah's head. "you sure you've gotta go tomorrow?"

jake's smile was tired and soft. "yeah. but i'll be back soon for thanksgiving." she nodded, hopeful, though they both knew it was a stretch.

when they finally said goodnight, the house was quiet again. jake stood by the door, watching the taillights of his sister's car fade down the road. the night air carried the smell of pine and the faint smell of a bonfire in the distance. he lingered there for a long moment, delilah's drawing folded in his hand.

tomorrow, he told himself. just one last stop before the airport. and maybe, he'd see her again.

by the time jake finally turned in for the night, the house had gone quiet. the kind of deep, easy quiet that only ever seemed to exist out here, far from base. far from jet engines and barracks chatter. he stood for a while at his childhood bedroom window, watching the stars in the sky twinkle and shimmer. the night felt heavier in texas, thicker somehow, like the air itself carried every memory that had ever settled in it.

he set delilah's drawing on his nightstand, smoothing out the crease down the middle. the crayon cowboy grinned back at him from under the brim of the lopsided hat, the little stick figure beside him smiling big. it made him smile in that way that hurt a little, pride and ache interwoven. he sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees, head bowed.

his phone buzzed once, a text from javy checking in, a group photo from the daggers at the hard deck back in san diego. he stared at it longer than he meant to, then set it face-down beside him. the room hummed with the faint sound of the ceiling fan turning in slow circles overhead.

he lay back after a while, one arm tucked behind his head, the other resting over his chest. the moonlight slipped through the blinds, silvering the edge of his jaw, and for the first time all week, he let himself feel it. the in-between. the pull of two different homes, two different versions of himself. out there, he was lieutenant seresin. here, he was just jake. the son, the brother, the uncle with his niece's art taped to his walls and fridge, but always close to his heart.

sleep didn't come easy. it never did the night before he left. his mind wandered, to caroline's laugh in the kitchen, his mom's humming, his dad's low voice telling stories over the game, delilah's hand tucked in his, and charlotte talking about college. but faintly, it wandered to the woman a few houses down from his sister's. rhett's mom. her smile. the sound of her voice in the dark.

he didn't realize when he finally drifted off to sleep, only that the night had shifted quietly into morning when he blinked awake again. the first thing he noticed was the light. soft and golden, stretching across the ceiling. the house was already stirring awake: footsteps in the hall, the smell of coffee and breakfast winding under his door.

jake rubbed his eyes and sat up slowly, hair mussed, the faint sound of charlotte talking to their mom somewhere in the kitchen. his bag sat half-packed by the door, the rest of his things scattered on his desk. the sight of it made something sink low in his stomach.

he pulled on a sweatshirt and padded barefoot down the hall. his mom looked up when he entered, smiling the way she always did. tired, gentle, and proud.

"morning, honey. you sleep okay?" he nodded, sliding into a chair at the table.

"yeah. took me a while, though."

"always does," she said knowingly, setting a mug of coffee in front of him. charlotte yawned from across the table, scrolling through her phone.

"you're still leaving after lunch, right?"

"yeah," he said, stirring sugar into his coffee. "gotta stop by caroline's first, though. promised delilah i'd see her before i left." his mom smiled faintly at that.

"she's been counting down since last night." jake huffed a quiet laugh. the morning light fell across the yard, the trees stirring in a soft breeze. everything about it, the creak of the old house, the smell of cinnamon and coffee, the sound of his family moving around him. it all felt familiar enough to make leaving so much harder. he was so lucky enough to have a family that made leaving so hard.

his dad came in then, carrying the paper and setting it on the counter. "truck all packed?"

"almost."

"good. gotta' leave soon."

"yeah," jake murmured. he didn't mean for it to sound so wistful, but it did anyway.

breakfast passed quietly, full of the small sounds of home. forks clinking, coffee pouring, the radio murmuring somewhere in the background. jake caught himself watching the clock more than once, not out of impatience, but out of reluctance. he wanted to stretch the minutes thin, hold them in his hands somehow.

when he finally stood, his mom wiped her hands on a towel and pulled him in for a long hug.

"drive safe, jake," she said into his shoulder. "and don't forget to call when you land."

"yes mama, i won't," he promised.

charlotte was next to hug him, teasing half-heartedly about bringing her a souvenir back next time he visits. then his dad clapped him on the shoulder, firm, wordless, and steady. then, just like that, he was out on the porch again, the screen door creaking shut behind him. the air was cool and bright, the kind of texas morning that made you forget summer ever existed. his truck sat in the driveway, sunlight flashing across its hood.

he stood there for a long moment, coffee cup in hand, the world still around him. tomorrow, he'd be back in california. but today, today he still had texas. and one last promise to fulfill.

the drive to caroline’s was short, the kind that barely gave him time to finish his coffee. the morning sun hung low, slanting through the bare trees and catching on every windshield, every mailbox. the neighborhood looked different, softer somehow. emptied of halloween decorations that had already started to sag. a few pumpkins still sat on porches, their carved smiles beginning to wilt at the edges. when jake pulled into caroline’s driveway, delilah was already at the window. he saw her face light up before she even exited the door.

“uncle jake!”

he barely got out of his truck before she came running down the steps, barefoot and her little arms flying out, sweater sleeves too long for her hands. jake caught her easily, lifting her off the ground and spinning her once before setting her down again.

“well, good morning to you too, darlin',” he laughed. “you been waitin’ on me?” she nodded so hard her curls bounced.

“you said you were comin’! we saved cocoa for you!”

“you did, huh? guess i better come in then.” caroline was leaning against the doorframe, coffee mug in hand, watching them with that amused, sisterly smile.

“told you she’s been talkin’ about it since breakfast.” jake followed them inside, the warmth of her house greeting him the second he crossed the threshold. the house smelled like maple syrup and pine, a scent that always reminded him of caroline’s place. a few of delilah's toys were scattered across the floor, and a half-built fort of couch cushions sat in the living room.

“we built that,” delilah announced proudly when she caught him looking. “rhett helped yesterday!”

“that right?” jake said, crouching to peek inside the fort. “looks pretty sturdy.”

“it is,” she said, matter-of-fact. “we’re architects.” caroline shook her head, smiling.

“don’t let her fool you. rhett did most of the building while she bossed him around.”

“did not!”

“did too.”

“did not!” jake laughed quietly, taking a sip of cocoa when caroline handed him a mug.

“same old arguments,” he said softly, and she smiled over the rim of her cup.

“some things never change.”

they spent the next half hour on the porch, delilah wrapped in a blanket on jake’s lap, telling him about school and how she was going to be a 'scientist or maybe a magician' when she grew up. every so often, caroline would chime in from her chair, gently reminding her daughter not to spill her cocoa.

“you’ll visit again soon, right uncle jake?” delilah asked suddenly, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“of course, sweetheart,” he said. “you won’t even have time to miss me too much before I’m back.”

“you promise?” she holds out her tiny pinky to him.

he smiled, pressing a kiss to her hair and entwining their pinkies together. “i promise.”

for a moment, it was quiet again . just the rustle of the trees, and the soft whistle of wind down the street. then caroline glanced past him, toward the sidewalk.

“well, speak of the devil,” she murmured, smiling faintly. jake followed her gaze, and there they were. rhett and his mom, walking up the street hand-in-hand. she had her head tipped toward him, laughing at something he said. rhett spotted delilah first, and waved enthusiastically, shouting her name before taking off in a run. his mom called after him, telling him to be careful and not trip.

“rhett!” delilah squealed, jumping down from jake’s lap and running to meet him halfway down the walk. that's when she looked up, eyes catching on jake’s. the surprise was brief, immediately softened by something like recognition, maybe even warmth.

“hey,” she said as she reached the porch, breath curling in the cool air. “wasn’t expecting to see you here.” jake stood, setting his mug on the railing.

“promised delilah i’d stop by before i head out.”

"head out?" her brows furrowed

“oh, that’s right,” he said. "i'm in the navy. flew home for halloween because i missed family."

"that's sweet of you, though. when's your flight?" something in his chest pinged at her calling his gesture of visiting family sweet.

“in a couple hours. all the way back to california." her eyes widen at the distance

"it's okay though, because he'll be back to bother us for thanksgiving." at caroline's voice, both heads turn to look at her. jake nods at his sister's words and a soft smile spreads across her face. she then glanced towards the kids, who were now crouched by the curb, inspecting something shiny in the grass.

“rhett's been talking about halloween nonstop. you made quite the impression.”

“guess i did,” he said, a smile tugging faintly at his mouth. “rhett's a good kid, though." she smiled, soft and easy.

“yeah, he’s my world.” the two of them continue to watch delilah and rhett in the yard and caroline watches the two with a knowing smile on her face. the smile that said, give them time and they'll be together.

the silence that followed them wasn’t uncomfortable; just the kind that felt heavy with everything unspoken. finally, she smiled again, smaller this time.

“well. safe travels, jake.”

“thank you,” he said, voice low. “it was real good meetin’ you.”

“you too." rhett came barreling back up the porch then, breathless and laughing, delilah trailing behind. “bye, mister jake!” he said without hesitation, grinning wide.

jake chuckled, ruffling his hair. “bye, buddy. keep the town safe while i'm gone.” he does a mock salute, making jake laugh. he then turned to his sister, and gave her another hug, then crouching down to hug delilah one last time.

“you be good, okay? help your mama out.”

“i always do,” she said proudly.

“that’s my girl.” he places a short kiss on the top of her head, then he stood, gave one last wave, and walked back to his truck. the engine turned over with a familiar rumble, the sound echoing softly down the street. as he backed out of the driveway, he caught one last glimpse of them in the rearview mirror. delilah and rhett chasing each other across the lawn, their moms watching from the porch, sunlight breaking through the clouds.

the road stretched ahead, long and open. he drove slow, one hand on the wheel, the other resting on the folded drawing in the passenger seat. by the time he hit the highway, the houses had disappeared behind him. texas fading in the mirror, california waiting somewhere beyond the horizon.

and for just a moment, the ache in his chest felt almost like home.

⛰︎ ོ ༄

the airport was quiet in that in-between hour. too late for the early business flights, too early for the rush that came after lunch. jake parked his truck at the edge of the lot, cut the engine, and just sat there for a moment. the silence pressed around him, heavy and strange after a weekend full of family noise. his mama’s laughter from the kitchen, delilah’s squeals echoing down the hall, his dad’s steady hum when he thought no one was listening. even charlotte’s late-night music leaking under her bedroom door. now, there was none of it. just the ticking of the cooling engine and the distant sound of a plane taking off somewhere overhead.

he rested his elbow on the window frame, watching the condensation fade from his breath on the glass. the folded drawing delilah had given him before he left sat on the passenger seat, the edges soft from where he’d thumbed them too many times just in the short hour he's had it. a stick figure of him in his flight suit, arms wide, the words 'uncle jake, my hero' scrawled above in purple crayon. he smiled faintly, then exhaled, long and slow, as if he could empty out the ache that had settled beneath his ribs.

when he finally got out, the cold air bit at his cheeks. the wind carried that familiar smell of jet fuel and damp asphalt. sharp, clean, and somehow comforting. he slung his duffel over his shoulder and locked the truck, giving the old thing a fond pat before heading toward the terminal. inside, everything felt muted. the shuffle of luggage wheels, a distant intercom call, the faint murmur of travelers half-awake. he moved through security almost without thought, muscle memory taking over after years of airports and departures. but as he stood at his gate, staring out through the wide glass windows, something about it all hit different this time.

maybe it was the way the sun caught on the tarmac, gold spilling over the wings of waiting planes. maybe it was knowing that some miles away, caroline was probably still sitting on her front porch while delilah asked how soon he’d be back. or maybe it was the way his chest tightened when he thought of her. standing on that porch with the wind catching in her hair, her eyes soft when she’d said, 'safe travels, jake.'

he hadn’t expected to see her again. he hadn’t expected it to feel like that, either. quiet but deep, like a tug somewhere he couldn’t ignore.

the boarding announcement broke through his thoughts, a tinny voice over the speakers calling his group number. he adjusted the strap of his duffel and stepped forward, scanning his ticket. the agent smiled absently, handed it back, and he gave a polite nod before walking down the narrow jet bridge. the hum of the plane grew louder as he got closer, that familiar, low vibration that always made him feel grounded and untethered all at once. he found his seat by the window, dropped his bag overhead, and sat down. for a long moment, he didn’t move. just stared out at the expanse of sky and runway beyond.

texas looked small from here. too small for how much it held.

when the engines roared to life, the sound settled in his chest. he braced for the lift, the way he always did, eyes fixed on the stretch of ground ahead. the wheels left the earth, the town shrinking beneath him, and for just a second, before clouds swallowed the view, he thought he could make out the faint grid of the neighborhood. the curve of his sister's street. maybe even a glimpse of her porch. he smiled to himself, barely there, and let his head fall back against the seat.

he’d told delilah he’d be back before she missed him too much. he’d meant it. but as the plane climbed higher and the ground disappeared completely, jake felt that ache again. soft, persistent, and impossible to shake. it wasn’t about leaving or coming home. it meant something had shifted.

somewhere between a front porch, two kids laughing in the yard, and a goodbye that hadn’t really felt like one, jake seresin had left a piece of himself behind. and as the clouds stretched endless and white outside the window, he couldn’t help but think: maybe he’d find his way back to it.

NOTE FROM DEL! first of the series (: this originally was gonna be a standalone that i was gonna post on halloween, but it was too late, and then i had ideas flowing, so i decided to make it a series. love you all dearly 🫶🏻