Chapter 9

Nine

Cory

I glanced around my office one last time, the familiar expanse of glass and steel stretching out below me. Dallas’s skyline gleamed under the morning sun, a reminder of the life I’d built—the life I’d traded everything else for. Yet here I was, about to drive out of the city on an unplanned trip that had nothing to do with deals, donations, or board meetings. I had no idea what to expect from Elena, but I knew I couldn’t sit here another minute with all these questions eating at me.

My assistant, Natalie, poked her head in, eyebrows raised in surprise when she noticed my packed bag. “Returning to Cedar Cove so soon?” she asked, a hint of a smirk on her face. I couldn’t blame her. Since I purchased my cabin, I’d mostly worked remotely. Natalie snickered, “You’ve been even grumpier and irritable than usual.”

“Yeah,” I replied, trying to sound casual. “I need to handle a… personal matter.”

I’d barely finished the sentence when her phone buzzed, signaling her back to her desk. I took it as my cue to leave, giving a quick nod as I headed out. In truth, I hadn’t explained my quick return to Cedar Cove or even tried to. How did I explain to anyone that I had to figure out if I had a son waiting for me or that I was driving two hundred miles to reconnect with a woman who had, despite everything, never quite left my mind?

Once I was in my SUV, the skyscrapers and city noise faded behind me. The open, wide, and empty road stretched ahead as I merged onto the highway. Dallas disappeared in my rearview mirror, replaced by miles of Texas countryside dotted with fields and dusty backroads that seemed to go on forever. Cedar Cove felt like it existed in a different world altogether, untouched by the rush of the city, the world I’d been caught up in for years. At this moment, that quietness felt like exactly what I needed, much like my hometown, Beaver Creek.

But my thoughts became more tangled the closer I got to Cedar Cove. I tried to remember what life had been like back then—before the money, the Marines, and all the distractions I’d piled on. Back when the only thing that mattered was Elena and how she’d made me feel alive like we were invincible. She was the one person I’d let myself be vulnerable with, the one I’d stupidly walked away from for adventure.

And now there was Jake. A kid who reminded me of myself in ways I couldn’t quite shake.

The thought of it—the possibility that he was my son—filled me with a confusing mix of pride, regret, and a touch of fear I wasn’t used to. I’d never considered fatherhood before, not seriously anyway. I’d spent so long focused on carving out my place in the world that I’d never stopped to think about what else I might want. And now here I was, trying to navigate a role I hadn’t even known I wanted until a few days ago.

My mind drifted to Asha’s advice. She’d warned me not to storm into Elena’s life demanding answers, that I’d be better off easing into it, respecting whatever boundaries she might have. But damn, if it wasn’t hard to hold back. Every instinct in me wanted to know for sure—I wanted to be there for Jake, to have some connection. And if I was honest with myself, a part of me still wanted that connection with Elena, too.

Then there was the issue of my wealth, the life I’d built on my grandfather’s fortune. The Horizon Foundation was my public face, my way of giving back, but that barely scratched the surface of what I’d accumulated. Would Elena see me differently when she found out? I’d kept things simple in Cedar Cove—driving my SUV and staying at the cabin. I hadn’t flaunted any of it because that wasn’t who I wanted to be around her.

As I drove, the questions continued to pile up. What if Jake really was my son? Would he resent me for not being there sooner? For all he knew, I was some stranger who’d popped into his life unannounced. And if Elena found out about the money, would she think I’d left her behind for the life I’d chosen instead of a life with her?

The familiar, steady hum of the engine was the only sound around me, but inside, everything felt like chaos. By the time I was a few minutes away from Cedar Cove, my thoughts were spinning, and every fear and regret rose to the surface.

Taking a deep breath, I forced myself to calm down. One thing at a time. I’d get to Cedar Cove, find Elena, and take it from there. I couldn’t fix everything in one conversation, and there were years of distance between us, but maybe—just maybe—this was a chance to start mending things.

The sun started to dip below the horizon as I finally turned down Elena’s street in Cedar Cove. The world here moved slower, the air felt cleaner, and every little thing seemed to matter a bit more. I’d spent years running from anything that felt this simple or grounding, but now I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.

As I eased my SUV down the road, I spotted her car parked in the driveway, confirming what I’d hoped for. My pulse quickened. This was it. A chance to reconnect, to see her outside of the bustle of her salon and in her own space.

I slowed as I passed the driveway, my gaze drawn to her in the side yard. Elena was crouched over a small flower bed, carefully patting the soil around her plants. She looked peaceful, untouched by the years that had passed in my absence. A pang of nostalgia hit me as I watched her, fully immersed in the rhythm of her life—a life I hadn’t been part of.

For a while, I stayed in the car, unwilling to break the quiet moment. But the pull was too strong. I parked a little farther down the street and stepped out, shutting the door softly behind me. Each step brought a familiar feeling I hadn’t experienced in years. It was like stepping back in time to when I was just a lanky high school kid, always hoping for an excuse to see her, to steal a fleeting moment together.

I cleared my throat, the words slipping out, soft and familiar.

“Have not saints lips and holy palmers too?”

Her shoulders tensed, her hands stilling over the plants. Slowly, she straightened, her back to me, and took a deep, steadying breath. She didn’t turn, but her voice, when it came, never wavered.

“Ay, pilgrim, lips that they must use in prayer.”

I felt a surge of emotion so strong it nearly knocked me off my feet. Those lines from that high school play we’d both starred in still held the same magic they had back then. I moved closer, almost afraid to break the spell.

“O, then, dear saint, let lips do what hands do; They pray, grant thou, lest faith turn to despair,” I murmured, barely a foot away from her now.

Finally, she turned, and her eyes met mine. In that instant, the years fell away. There we were, two people who had once known each other better than anyone else, now facing each other with all the weight of time between us. But as I looked into her eyes, I saw that same light, that same spark that had drawn me to her in the first place.

Without a word, she closed the space between us, her arms reaching up to wrap around my neck. I pulled her in, feeling the softness of her body against mine, her breath soft on my cheek. My hand slid to her lower back, and for a beat, we stood there, lost in each other, in the familiarity, in everything unsaid.

After a long moment, she pulled back just enough to look up at me, her cheeks tinged with a soft blush. Her gaze was curious, almost shy, as if she couldn’t quite believe I was there. I took the opportunity to study her, my eyes tracing the familiar lines of her face but catching something different. Something… subtle.

“You look different,” I murmured, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Your nose…?”

A faint smile curved her lips, and she shrugged. “I had a car accident a few years back. Broke my nose and figured it was the perfect excuse to… make a few changes.”

I chuckled softly, lifting a hand to trace the line of her nose gently. “Well, I like it. But I think I liked the old one too.”

She laughed, the sound soft and musical, and it stirred something deep inside me, something I thought I’d buried a long time ago. Her laughter faded, and she looked at me, her eyes filled with a mix of emotions I couldn’t quite decipher. I leaned in, unable to resist, and pressed my lips to hers, soft and lingering. She responded, her lips warm and inviting. It was like nothing had changed. It was just us, standing together as if all those years hadn’t passed.

When we finally broke apart, she sighed softly, her gaze dropping. “CJ… uh, Cory, why now?”

Her voice was barely a whisper—full of questions. I took a deep breath, realizing there was no easy answer. “I had to see you,” I said, my voice thick with the weight of everything I felt. To see… if there’s still something here. And maybe… if there’s more to this than just us.”

Her eyes softened, a flicker of something I dared to hope was understanding. But then, as if remembering herself, she took a small step back, nodding slowly.

“I… I need to pick up Jake,” she said softly. “But if you want, come back later—once he’s asleep. We can talk… in private.”

I nodded, my throat tight. “I’ll be here.”

She hesitated, pulling out her phone. “Actually… let me call you when he’s down for the night.” She glanced at me, a small, hopeful smile graced her features as she held out her phone. “Might make it easier to… plan.”

A little too eager, I quickly took my phone out, fumbling for a second before we exchanged numbers. Our fingers brushed as she handed my phone back, and I felt a spark, a reminder of how much I’d missed that connection. I looked down at her contact info on the screen, her name sitting there like it had never been gone.

“Got it. I’ll wait for your call.” My voice came out a little quicker than I intended, and her eyes softened at the edges like she’d picked up on it.

She lingered for a heartbeat longer, her gaze holding mine as if she wasn’t quite ready to let go of our time together. Then, with one last glance, she turned and walked back toward the house, leaving me standing there with a head full of memories, her number saved in my phone, and a heart that was anything but ready to let go.