The Number One Star in the Interstellar Era

Chapter 705: [SERENDIPITOUS SUMMER] (VI)

THE morning after the storm, Harborview was a mess—streets littered with driftwood, shop signs torn off, and the pier half-sunken in the harbor. Though the waves had come dangerously close, the feared tsunami never hit. Locals moved through the damage, dragging away debris and checking on neighbors, relieved the worst had been avoided. Most tourists didnʼt wait around; they packed and gone by first light, leaving through the first available space flight.

But Jace stayed.

While most visitors fled, Jace stayed to help. He hauled debris from the docks, assisted fishermen with their battered boats, and even pitched in to clear fallen trees blocking the streets. No one questioned why he was still there, most likely because they were just grateful for the extra hands.

The sun was beginning to set when Jace finally spotted Abby sitting alone on the harborʼs edge, her legs dangling over the damaged boardwalk. He approached slowly, his boots crunching on broken shells and wet sand.

”Youʼve been working hard today,” Abby said, her voice soft. She didnʼt turn to look at him, keeping her eyes on the horizon where the storm had finally faded.

Jace wiped his dirty hands on his pants, leaving streaks of grime. ”I couldnʼt just pack up and leave after everything. I felt like I had to help, at least.”

Abby nodded, a small smile crossing her lips. ”Yeah. Thatʼs very like you.”

Then she said nothing else, and Jace didnʼt really know how to respond. The silence between them grew thick, filled only by the distant calls of seagulls and the rhythmic lapping of waves against the shore.

After a long moment, Jace turned to face her fully. His voice was low, careful, but the weight of his question pressed down between them.

”Abby,” he started, ”why were you standing there in the storm? Why did you just... let the water take you?”

Her hands, resting in her lap, tightened slightly. Still, she didnʼt look at him.

Abby opened her mouth, then closed it again, as if the words kept catching in her throat. The wind tugged at her hair, still salty from yesterdayʼs storm.

Jace waited. Not pushing, just standing there with his sleeves rolled up and his arms crossed—solid and patient.

Finally, Abby took a shaky breath.

”It was my brother,” she said, so quiet Jace almost missed it. ”Danny. He... drowned here eight years ago. During a storm like the one we just had. But worse. Much worse.”

Her voice cracked on his name. She pressed her palms flat against her knees to stop their trembling.

”I saw him. Out there in the water. I know it wasnʼt real, but—” A lone tear then fell from her eyes. And they just kept on falling and falling. ”I just stood there like an idiot. Because part of me wanted it to be true.”

Jace didnʼt move. Didnʼt speak. But his silence wasnʼt empty—it was the kind that held space for her to keep going.

”And then the wave hit, and for a second, I thought… maybe I deserved it.” She wiped her face roughly with her sleeve. ”Stupid, right?”

Jace pulled Abby into a hug before she could finish. ”Itʼs not stupid,” he murmured into her hair.

Abby shook against him. ”You donʼt understand,” she choked out. ”He died because of me. He drowned saving me. How am I supposed to—”

Jace held her tighter. ”Then tell me,” he said quietly. ”Tell me what happened.”

And she did. The words spilled out between sobs—the storm, the wave, Danny shoving her toward safety while the water dragged him under. How sheʼd replayed it every night for eight years, wondering why she couldnʼt have been faster, stronger, better.

When she finished, Jace cupped her face and looked straight into her eyes. ”You were a kid, Abby. Thereʼs no way you could have done anything more in that situation.” His thumbs wiped roughly at her tears. ”Danny made his choice because he loved you. You think heʼd want you blaming yourself forever?”

Abby tried to shake her head, but another sob tore free. ”I donʼt deserve—”

”Yes, you do.” Jaceʼs grip tightened. ”You deserve to be happy. To live. Thatʼs the whole point of what he did.” His voice softened. ”Honor him by living, Abby. Not by drowning in guilt.”

Something in his words—the rawness, the frustration, the care—finally cracked her open. Abbyʼs knees gave out, but Jace caught her, lowering them both to the ground as she cried harder than she had in years. Not delicate tears, but ugly, gasping ones that left her breathless.

The tears kept coming, but something in her chest—something that had been knotted tight for years—finally loosened.

***

A week later, Harborview had returned to normal. Fishermen were back in their boats, shopkeepers were welcoming customers, and the café reopened with its usual smell of strong coffee. Abby and Jace found themselves back at the cove—the same place where the waves had nearly taken her. Now, the water lapped gently at the sand, quiet and calm, as if the storm had never happened.

Abby knelt at the edge of the cove, the glass bottle cool in her hands. Inside, a rolled-up parchment held words sheʼd carried for eight years—words sheʼd never been able to say out loud.

Jace stood a few steps back, giving her space.

She hesitated, her fingers tightening around the bottle. The sea breeze tugged at her hair, gentle now, nothing like the storm that had raged here just days before.

Taking a deep breath, she drew her arm back and threw. The bottle arced through the air, catching the sunlight for one brief moment before it hit the waves with a soft plunk.

It bobbed for a second, then the current pulled it under.

Abby didnʼt move. She watched the spot where it had disappeared, her chest aching but lighter somehow. It wasnʼt a grand goodbye. There were no words spoken aloud. But for the first time in eight years, she could breathe.

Behind her, Jace stepped closer. When his hand found hers, she didnʼt let go.

Jaceʼs fingers tightened around hers, his thumb brushing over her knuckles once—like he was memorizing the feel of them. ”I have to leave Harborview tomorrow.”

Abbyʼs breath caught. The words didnʼt make sense at first. Then, it finally dawned on her that Jace had to leave at some point. After all, this was not his home. But that realization didnʼt make her feel better. The warmth she felt moments ago drained away, replaced by a cold, sinking weight.

Jace saw it—the way her shoulders stiffened, the flicker of hurt in her eyes before she could hide it. So, he rushed to clarify, leaning closer.

”Just for a while. A few weeks, maybe. But Iʼm coming back.” His voice dropped, earnest. ”Can you wait for me?”

Abby stared at him. For a second, her mind went utterly quiet, like the sea holding its breath between waves. Then it hit her—he planned to return. The tension in her chest unraveled so fast it left her dizzy. Her smile broke through, slowly at first, then all at once, brighter and extremely beautiful.

”Yes.”

Jace let out a shaky laugh, relief softening his features. He brought her hand to his lips, kissing her salt-stained knuckles.

”Good,” he murmured against her skin. ”Because from now on, Iʼm yours to keep.”