Chapter Two: Check-In & Collision
1039 Words
Brooke woke up to sunlight playing on the walls and the gentle sound of waves nearby. It’d been ages since she’d woken up without alarms or the buzz of her phone. No emails, no tabloids, and no Tyler telling her, "You should skip carbs today, babe."
She stretched, groaned into her pillow, and smiled, thinking maybe peace wasn’t just some fairy tale.
After a hot shower and doing her hair a bit, she put on a loose white blouse, denim cutoffs, and the big sunglasses she liked to use as a shield. The inn’s breakfast was set up in the sunroom: warm biscuits, fresh fruit, local honey, and some dangerously good homemade cinnamon rolls.
She didn’t hold back and took two. She was in recovery mode, not punishing herself.
As she was diving into her second roll, Jake walked in, barefoot, holding a basket full of peaches.
“Morning,” he said, putting the basket down next to a bowl of eggs.
“Do you always look like you popped out of a Nicholas Sparks movie?” Brooke shot back, a bit sharper than she intended.
Jake just grinned. “Only on Thursdays.”
“It’s Saturday.”
With a wink, he said, “Guess I’m a bit behind.”
She rolled her eyes, but couldn’t help smiling—darn him again.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asked, moving around the kitchen like he owned the place. Cracking eggs with one hand and stirring something on the stove with the other.
“I didn’t know I was checking into a B&B and a southern cooking show,” she joked.
Jake glanced back at her. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
She bit into a peach that tasted like sunshine. “You’d be trouble with a camera crew.”
“I already had my fifteen minutes,” he said, his voice turning serious for a second.
Brooke raised an eyebrow. “Really?”
He nodded but didn’t share more.
Letting it go, she realized everyone had their past.
After breakfast, she strolled down the beach. The sand was warm and soft, the ocean calm and blue. Families were having picnics, couples were walking hand in hand, and a dog barked happily in the distance.
After a while, she spotted a sign: Salt & Pine – Books, Gifts, and Coffee.
A little bell jingled when she walked in, and it smelled amazing—like espresso and old books. The shop was small and cozy, with crooked shelves and a tired golden retriever lounging on the rug.
“Welcome!” a voice called from behind the counter. A petite woman with thick glasses and a gray pixie cut looked up from some romance novels. “You must be the New Yorker.”
Brooke blinked. “Is it that obvious?”
“Sweetheart, you’re wearing Valentino sandals on a beach. We don’t even sell those here.”
Brooke laughed, surprised by the sound.
“I’m Ruby,” the woman said, coming around the counter. “Jake said you might drop by. He mentioned you’ve got that ‘holding it together while falling apart’ vibe he knows well.”
“That sounds…specific.”
“He’s a specific guy,” Ruby replied. “And he’s usually right.”
“Sounds annoying.”
Ruby’s eyes sparkled. “It is. But you’ll get used to it.”
Two hours and three paperbacks later, Brooke sat outside the shop with an iced chai, feeling lighter than she had in a while.
And then her phone buzzed.
MELANIE (Publicist):
Tabloids are still circling. Paparazzi outside your gym. Want me to release a statement or keep quiet? Also, your mom called twice.
She stared at the screen and then shoved the phone into her bag. Not today.
Later that evening, she headed back to the beach, wearing a simple blue sundress and leaving her phone behind. The sun was setting, flooding everything with orange and gold. Waves lapped gently, and a few people were gathered near the fishing boats by the pier.
She wasn’t expecting to see Jake, but of course, he was there—shirtless, laughing with a little boy, probably around ten, helping him untangle a fishing line.
She paused, watching him. He was patient and calm, tousling the boy’s hair and handing him the fishing rod with a proud grin.
It was a side of Jake she hadn’t noticed before.
He caught her staring.
She turned to leave, but he jogged over. “Hey.”
“Don’t you ever just chill out?” she teased.
“I could say the same to you.”
“Touché.”
He glanced toward the pier. “That’s my nephew, Dylan. He’s with me for the month.”
Brooke nodded. “He’s adorable. Looks like he thinks you’re a superhero.”
Jake smiled, looking a tad shy. “I hope so. It’s just been us since my sister passed.”
Her heart sank. “I’m really sorry.”
He shrugged. “It was a while ago. Cancer.”
They stood in silence, listening to the waves roll in and out like slow breaths.
“Want to go for a walk?” he asked.
She should’ve said no. She came to be alone. But she wasn’t looking for a storybook moment or a rugged guy full of sorrow and kindness.
But she nodded anyway.
They walked barefoot at first, quiet, then slowly shared bits of their lives. She talked about her job, her broken engagement, the pressure of being perfect in a city that chews people up.
He shared his story—his time in the Marines, his sister, the inn he’d fixed up from his grandparents’ place.
“I like fixing things,” he said. “They don’t always stay fixed. But trying helps.”
Brooke looked at him—not just his face or body, but the way he said that word, trying.
She really got it.
The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving a sky filled with stars.
Jake pointed to one. “That one’s for you.”
She followed his finger. “Why’s that?”
“Because you don’t even see how bright you are.”
Her breath hitched. Darn him a third time.
- Writer
