LOVE IN DUNGEON

CHAPTER 3 - TIDES BETWEEN US

Days passed like waves—quiet, steady, and strangely healing.

Mia found a rhythm she hadn’t known she needed. She helped Nancy at the diner, washed cups, and served coffee to sun-weathered men who tipped in stories instead of dollars. No one asked who she was or why she came. That kind of peace was priceless.

Jackson showed up now and then—always fixing something, always quiet. He’d nod at her with a soft grunt that might’ve meant hello or I see you. Either way, it made her smile.

One afternoon, Mia walked the beach, kicking driftwood, when she spotted Jackson sitting on an overturned boat.

He looked up. “Walking off another bad cup of coffee?”

Mia chuckled. “Nancy’s coffee isn’t bad. It’s... nostalgic.”

He smirked. “That’s one way to say it tastes like motor oil.”

“Mind if I sit?” she asked.

He shifted. “Free beach.”

They sat in easy silence, the sea breathing around them.

Jackson spoke first. “You ever plan to leave?”

Mia toyed with the hem of her hoodie. “I don’t know. I came here trying to escape. Maybe I found something instead.”

He nodded. “Peace?”

“People who don’t pretend. Like you.”

Jackson was quiet before saying, “Pretending takes too much energy. I used to. Before... everything.”

She waited.

“My ex told me I was going to be a dad. I built everything around that. Turns out the kid wasn’t mine.”

Mia’s breath caught. “Jackson…”

He shrugged. “DNA test confirmed it. She left. Took most of what I owned. I came here with what was left in my truck bed.”

“I’m sorry,” Mia whispered.

“Don’t be. I’m better off. Just... not good at trusting anymore.”

She nodded. “Me neither.”

He looked at her. “Want to talk about it?”

Because he trusted her, she did.

“I was with men who saw me as a wallet. I kept giving, thinking if I gave enough, I’d finally be enough.”

Jackson’s eyes softened. “You are enough, Mia. You always were.”

Her throat tightened. “Why is it so hard to believe that?”

He looked out at the ocean. “Because we’ve only heard it from people who didn’t mean it.”

The waves rolled in, sighing against the shore.

That evening, Jackson showed up at Nancy’s with a basket of fish.

“For the woman who thinks my life tastes better than her coffee,” he said.

Mia laughed. “Trying to bribe me?”

“Maybe. Or maybe I just thought you’d cook it better than me.”

Nancy raised a brow. “Careful, Jackson. That almost sounded like flirting.”

He muttered about nosy old ladies and disappeared into the kitchen.

Later, they ate on the porch, the fish salty and fresh. The old wood creaked beneath them, but neither minded.

Jackson leaned back. “It’s strange. I came here to forget. You came to run. But somehow, we’re remembering who we are instead.”

Mia smiled. “And who are you?”

He looked at her, serious. “A man who didn’t think he could care again.”

She swallowed. “And now?”

His gaze lingered too long. “Now I’m not so sure.”

When Mia went to bed that night, the ocean sang her to sleep.

But her heart didn’t feel heavy anymore.

It felt like it was learning a new rhythm—one that matched the gentle tides between them.

The next morning, Mia woke before the sun.

She slipped outside, barefoot, the wet sand cool beneath her toes. She watched as light broke the horizon, painting the sea in gold and pink.

She didn’t hear him approach until Jackson stood beside her, coffee cup in hand.

“Couldn’t sleep?” he asked, voice rough with sleep.

Mia shook her head. “Didn’t want to miss this.”

He handed her the extra cup he brought. Their fingers brushed, a small warmth blooming.

“I used to think healing was about forgetting,” Jackson said, staring out at the water.

Mia glanced at him.

“But it’s not,” he said. “It’s about remembering without breaking.”

Mia’s throat tightened. Maybe she needed to hear that.

She whispered, “I want to be someone who remembers... and still hopes.”

“You already are,” he said.

Later, Mia helped Nancy paint the diner porch. She laughed more than she had in months.

Jackson drove by, tossing a lazy wave and a smile.

Nancy caught Mia’s blush and chuckled. “That boy’s been broken, honey. Same as you. But sometimes two cracked hearts fit better than two perfect ones.”

Mia dipped her brush again, pretending not to smile.

Inside, something small and tender was taking root.

Not love, not yet.

But something close.

Something ready.

That evening, Mia wandered down to the docks. The tide lapped against the posts like a whispered song.

She wasn’t surprised to find Jackson there, working on an old sailboat, hands covered in grease and seaweed.

“You always find me knee-deep in bad ideas,” he said, grinning.

Mia perched on a crate. “What are you doing?”

“Thinking about fixing this up. Maybe taking it out someday.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Before or after it sinks?”

He chuckled. “Could use a partner to keep me afloat. You in?”

She laughed, but heard the seriousness under the teasing. “Maybe. If there are life jackets.”

“Deal.”

The sky deepened into lavender and gold. They sat in the hush.

“You ever wonder,” Jackson said softly, “if maybe the broken things are the ones worth saving?”

Mia looked at him, thinking about herself, about him, about the boat—and how sometimes, the most beautiful things were the ones someone fought for.

“Yeah,” she whispered. “All the time.”

He tossed the rag aside, dusted his hands, and held one out to her.

“Come on, Mia. Let’s see if we can fix something together.”

Her heart thundered—wild and alive.

She took his hand.

And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel like she was falling.

She felt like she was flying.