Novels by Melissa Carlson

Chapter Twenty-One — Paper BoatsLila loved the rain.It was a Saturday morning, and puddles lined the sidewalks like little lakes. Jack helped her fold paper boats from magazine pages while Elena watched from the porch swing, coffee in hand and heart unexpectedly light.They were making a memory—one that didn’t hurt.Lila ran ahead, giggling as her boats floated down the curb stream. Her rain boots splashed, her cheeks pink from the cold."Watch this one, Mommy!"Elena laughed. "I’m watching, baby."Jack joined her on the swing, damp curls plastered to his forehead. "She beat me. Again.""She always wins," Elena said, eyes shining.They sat in silence for a moment, listening to the water, the sky.Then Elena said, "Do you think she’ll remember the bad parts?"Jack didn’t pretend to have an easy answer. "She’ll remember pieces. But they won’t be the only ones. You’re giving her new ones every day."They had almost forgotten what day it was.By late morning, Elena was dressing Lila in

Chapter Twenty — The ScarElena sat on the edge of the bathtub, towel wrapped tightly around her body. Steam clung to the mirror, blurring her reflection, softening the edges of a face she barely recognized anymore.The scar on her ribcage peeked out from the fold of her towel—thin, silver, and deceptively small. But she remembered every second of how it got there.The wine bottle.The screaming.The silence afterward that had hurt worse.She hadn’t meant to cry. But the moment she caught sight of the scar, something inside cracked. The tears came hot and fast—grief and rage and shame braided together.Jack knocked gently. “You okay?”She didn’t answer.He opened the door a few inches, voice low and careful. “Can I come in?”She nodded, pressing her palm to her face.He stepped inside, not touching her, just kneeling in front of her, eye-level. The steam had curled his hair slightly at the ends, his breath warm in the air between them.“I see you,” he said softly.Tears streamed silen

Chapter Nineteen — The Space BetweenThey didn’t have sex that night.Not because they didn’t want to.Not because they weren’t ready.But because this—what they shared—was deliberate. Grounded.And neither of them needed to rush past the stillness of what they were building.It wasn’t the first time Elena had fallen asleep beside Jack.But it was the first time she had ever woken up in someone’s arms without fear creeping in.No flinching.No confusion.No guilt.Just warmth.Just breath.Just Jack.Over the next few weeks, Jack began leaving quiet pieces of himself in her world.A toothbrush tucked into the holder beside hers.A gray hoodie that lived permanently on the back of the couch, because Lila liked to wrap herself in it like a cape.A paperback novel with creased corners and a folded receipt as a bookmark, resting on her nightstand beside her own stack of half-finished books.And a framed photo of his mom—eyes kind like his, her smile small but certain.He set it on the she

Chapter Eighteen — Flashback: The WeddingShe woke up warm.Not startled. Not breathless. Not drenched in sweat or twisted in sheets.Just warm.Jack’s hand was still on her hip, fingers resting lightly like a promise he’d never rush. His breathing was slow, even, grounded. And Elena stayed still, her eyes fixed on the ceiling, not because she was afraid to move—But because she didn’t want to forget the feeling.Safety.It wasn’t just a word anymore. It had shape. Weight. Skin.She turned slightly, just enough to see Jack’s face in the gray light filtering through the window. He looked younger in sleep. Softer. Like someone who had taught his heart how to stop bracing.Last night hadn’t been fireworks.It had been oxygen.A gentle undoing.And yet, her mind—like it sometimes did when she let her guard down—slipped backward.Into a night that felt like the opposite of everything she had now.Then.She wore a dress she never chose.It was too tight. Too white. Too not her.But Brandon

Chapter Seventeen — CloserIt happened quietly.Not like a scene from a movie—not with music swelling or hands pulling urgently. Just the soft hush of two people who had stopped running.The apartment was dim. A movie flickered on the TV, mostly forgotten. Lila had fallen asleep early, curled up inside her blanket fort with a flashlight and her favorite fox stuffie. The living room still smelled like popcorn and lavender—the diffuser Jack had given Elena months ago now humming softly on the shelf.“Something calming,” he’d said when he gave it to her. “Like you deserve to breathe easy, even when I’m not here.”Elena had smiled then. But now, sitting beside him on the couch, she didn’t smile.She just looked at him. Like she was seeing him for the first time all over again.They’d been talking—about nothing really. Books they’d both half-finished. The strange faces Lila made when she concentrated. Whether or not dandelions should count as flowers.And then she kissed him.Soft. Uncerta

Chapter Sixteen — Jack, ThenThe smell of paint still lingered faintly in the apartment.Jack stood in the doorway, watching Elena with quiet reverence as she moved around her easel, wiping her hands on an old cloth, her brow furrowed in focus. Yellow and coral bled together on the canvas in something soft and abstract and alive.It wasn’t just art.It was proof.That she was claiming something back—something she hadn’t touched in years. And not for anyone else. For herself.He smiled and walked to the kitchen, placing the last dish from lunch into the sink. Outside, the wind chattered through the trees. Lila’s laughter echoed faintly from the living room, where she was building a kingdom out of pillows.The apartment felt like a home.Not just lived in.Loved in.Jack leaned against the counter and let his thoughts drift back—not to the moment they met, but the moment he really saw her.Not the box of misdelivered mail.Not the awkward introduction.But that day in the hallway.The d