Page 12

Chapter eleven

You’re the dessert that should be on this table

Charlotte - 12 Years Ago

T he kids are buzzing, their excitement spilling over as they gather around us for the nature hike they’ve been talking about all day. Jake stands beside me, hands shoved in his pockets, wearing a grin that almost hides the nerves radiating off him. Almost. He’s been a little on edge ever since we were asked to take this group out, but I know he’ll be great. He just doesn’t realize it yet.

“Alright, kids!” I clap my hands to focus their attention. “Who’s ready for an adventure?”

A chorus of cheers erupts, and I catch Jake’s eye as I continue. “We’re going to explore the woods, find some cool rocks, and maybe even spot a few animals. But first, we need to make sure we stick together. No running off, okay?”

The kids nod, their eyes wide with anticipation, and I bump Jake’s shoulder lightly. “You ready, Captain Thunder?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be, Lady Lightning,” he says, voice steady but shoulders tense.

We set off, and as expected, the kids are a tornado of energy—darting after bugs, tripping over rocks, and shouting about everything they see. Jake keeps pace, his voice calm but firm as he wrangles the chaos. He doesn’t realize it, but he’s got this quiet authority that makes people listen.

Whe n a little girl named Lily trips and scrapes her knee, Jake’s by her side in an instant. He crouches down, his voice low and soothing. “Hey, tough cookie. You’re okay. Know what I used to do when I got a scrape like this? Pretend it was a battle scar from fighting dragons. Wanna try?”

Her sniffles turn to giggles, and she nods. He helps her to her feet, dusting off her shorts. “There you go. Now, let’s get back to our adventure.”

When he looks back at me, I smile warmly. His expression is a mix of surprise and something softer, like he’s still processing that he’s capable of this. That he’s good at this.

By the time we return to camp, the kids are worn out but happy. The tension has eased from Jake’s shoulders, and I give him a playful nudge. “You were great out there, you know.”

He glances at me, a little sheepish. “I don’t know about that. You did most of the work.”

“No, Jake. They listened to you. They look up to you.” I meet his eyes, holding his gaze. “You make people feel safe. That’s not something you can fake.”

For a moment, he just looks at me, like he’s trying to figure out why I believe in him so much. Like I’ve given him something he didn’t know he needed. Then he nods, his voice soft. “Thanks, Charlie.”

That night, as I lie in my bunk, I replay the events of the day and the way he looked at me. Vulnerable, uncertain, and quietly grateful.

It’s small, but it sticks with me. Because in that moment, I saw something in him—a need to be seen and valued—and it made me want to be that person for him.

The one who always believes in him, no matter what.

***

Charlie - Present Day

The Play It Forward fundraiser is a busy, bright mix of laughter, voices, and kids darting around tables. Everywhere I look, clusters of people are deep in conversation, all here to support Jake’s foundation. I didn’t expect to feel so proud of him, but I am.

Jake’s completely in his element, moving from group to group, his smile wide, his laugh carrying across the room. He’s magnetic. And I’m just as captivated as everyone else, watching him interact with the kids and seeing firsthand just how much this means to him. Kids crowd around him, clinging to his every word as he crouches down, engaging each of them with such genuine warmth.

My kids are no exception. Noah’s wearing Jake’s cap from last night, excitedly describing his latest LEGO build. Jake listens with a focus most adults skip over, nodding as if Noah’s explaining something groundbreaking. Meanwhile, Meadow’s taken to Jake like she’s known him forever. When she’s not perched on his knee, she’s riding on his shoulders, her giggles loud enough to turn heads. Watching him with them feels unsettlingly attractive. Like I'm seeing a glimpse of something I shouldn’t be letting myself want.

Every so often, I catch him glancing my way. There’s something steady in his look, like he’s tuning the whole room out for just a second, focused entirely on me. Each time our eyes meet, my chest thunders with a mix of excitement and terror knotting together. I need air.

“Someone’s got it bad.” Zoe sidles up to me, pretending to peruse the desserts before snagging a cupcake.

I pluck it from her hand and set it back on the display. “I don't know what you're talking about.”

“Oh come on, Charlie.” She sighs dramatically, like she’s dealing with a clueless child. “He’s been giving you heart eyes since you walked in.”

“We’re just friends,” I argue, but even to my ears the denial sounds weak.

“ Friends ?” She raises a brow. “Friends, my ass. Right now, he’s staring at you like you’re the dessert that should be on this table.”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t ignore the way my heart skips at the thought.

“Humor me,” she says, tilting her head. “Look across the room and tell me who he’s staring at right now.”

I laugh, nudging her. “Zoe, please. You’re making this sound like some middle-school crush.”

Despite myself, I sneak a glance at Jake across the room. He’s talking with some of his teammates, but even as they laugh and clap him on the back, his gaze drifts my way. And the second our eyes meet, the crowded room seems to narrow, like it’s just the two of us tethered by some unspoken connection. A smile tugs at his lips, his dimple on full display like he’s been saving its presence just for me.

“See? Heart eyessss,” Zoe singsongs, using the distraction to grab the cupcake again and biting into it before I can take it off her.

“You’re being ridiculous.” I try to brush her off, but she’s right. That look of his is impossible to ignore. “He’s probably just making sure the event’s running smoothly.”

“Riiight,” Zoe says, dragging the word out between her mouthful of cake. “As smoothly as the way he just tracked you across a room full of people.”

I shake my head, trying to focus on rearranging the gap in the cupcakes. “He’s busy. This whole thing is for his foundation. Which, by the way, is amazing. I had no idea he was this involved.”

“He is,” Zoe says, softening. “He puts his whole heart into this foundation. Every off-season he’s visiting schools, organizing events, talking to kids… He never wants them to feel like they’re on their own.”

I nod, understanding the depth behind Jake’s dedication probably more than Zoe realizes. Each smile, word, and laugh with these kids is genuine. This isn’t just showmanship for him; it’s his heart on display. A chance to give kids the support he didn’t have growing up.

But before I can respond, Zoe’s smirk reappears. “Anyway, don’t let me distract you. I’m sure you’ve got to make sure that cock-um-booch is ready. I have a feeling he’ll be very impressed.”

I groan at her mispronunciation. “It’s croquembouche. And he probably doesn’t even know what it is.”

“Bet he will when y ou tell him. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” She grabs another cupcake and saunters off to schmooze more guests, grinning at my disdain for her outright cake theft.

I try to lose myself in organizing the desserts, but it doesn’t last long. That feeling prickles at my skin again—the weight of a gaze. When I glance up, I catch Jake looking my way again. His eyes hold mine for just a beat, his lips tugging into a quiet smile before he nods at something his teammate says.

My pulse roars in my ears. I don’t know how much longer I can keep pretending I don’t notice his eyes on me. With a quiet sigh, I slip into the kitchen to catch my breath and double-check the remaining desserts. I’ve been in and out all day, but the space is empty now, giving me a chance to breathe.

But even in here, away from the crowd, I can’t shake the warmth of his eyes on me.