Updated Apr 8, 2026 • ~5 min read
Chapter 13: Just Talking
Jace
They make it exactly three days before the texting starts again.
Jace tells himself it’s innocent. Just checking in. Making sure she’s okay after that kiss that’s been replaying in his head on loop for seventy-two hours straight.
**Jace:** Are you okay?
The reply comes five minutes later.
**Sienna:** No. You?
**Jace:** Not even close.
**Sienna:** We said we weren’t going to do this.
**Jace:** Just talking isn’t against the rules.
**Sienna:** Isn’t it?
**Jace:** Is there a rule that says a parent can’t text a teacher?
**Sienna:** Probably not in the handbook. Definitely in the “don’t be an idiot” manual.
**Jace:** Then I’m an idiot.
**Sienna:** Me too.
And just like that, they’re TALKING again.
🔥
The texts turn into phone calls.
Late at night, after Harper’s asleep. After Sienna’s finished grading papers and Jace has reviewed tomorrow’s blueprints for the hundredth time.
“I shouldn’t have called,” Jace says one night.
“I shouldn’t have answered,” Sienna replies. But neither of them hangs up.
They talk about everything. His work. Her students (carefully avoiding too much detail about Harper). Movies they’ve seen. Books they’ve read. Childhood memories. Fears. Dreams.
“What do you want?” she asks him one night. “Like, in LIFE. If you could have anything.”
“I had it once,” he says quietly. “A partner. A family. Someone to come home to.”
“You have Harper.”
“I know. And she’s everything. But it’s not the same as having someone who’s MINE. You know?”
“I do know.” Her voice is soft. “I’ve never had that. The ‘mine’ thing. Always been too much for people. Too anxious. Too chatty. Too… me.”
“You’re not too much.”
“You don’t know that. We’ve been on one date.”
“I know enough.”
Silence. Then: “Jace?”
“Yeah?”
“This is dangerous. What we’re doing.”
“I know.”
“We should stop.”
“I know.”
“Are we going to?”
“…No.”
She laughs—sad and resigned. “Me neither.”
🔥
Two weeks later, they meet in person.
Not at school. Not anywhere someone might see them.
A coffee shop two towns over. Evening. Neutral territory.
Jace gets there first, orders his terrible black coffee, and waits.
When Sienna walks in, his breath CATCHES.
She’s in jeans and a sweater—casual, no makeup, hair down. She looks younger. Softer. REAL.
And he’s so gone for her it’s embarrassing.
“Hi,” she says, sliding into the chair across from him.
“Hi.”
“This is stupid, right? Meeting like this?”
“Spectacularly stupid.”
“Good. Just making sure we’re on the same page.”
She orders her caramel latte—same as the day they met. The universe has a sense of humor.
They talk. Not about the kiss. Not about how impossible this is. Just… talk.
And it feels like BREATHING.
“I should go,” Sienna says eventually, checking her phone. “I have papers to grade.”
“Right. Yeah. Me too. I mean, not papers. Blueprints.”
“Jace?”
“Yeah?”
“Can we do this again? Just… talking. No touching. Just this.”
He should say no. Should end this before it gets worse.
But: “Yes.”
🔥
They start meeting once a week.
Always different locations. Always careful. Always JUST talking.
No touching. That’s the rule.
(The rule they’re both dying to break.)
Jace learns that Sienna stress-bakes at midnight. That she ugly-cries at rom-coms. That she wanted to be a writer before she became a teacher.
Sienna learns that Jace builds birdhouses in his garage when he can’t sleep. That he still wears his wedding ring on a chain around his neck. That he blames himself for his wife’s death even though it wasn’t his fault.
“It was a car accident,” he tells her one night. “Black ice. She was coming home from picking up Harper from a playdate. I should’ve been the one driving.”
“Jace, you can’t—”
“I can. I do. Every day.”
She reaches across the table, almost touches his hand, pulls back at the last second.
“Sorry,” she whispers. “No touching.”
“Yeah. That’s the rule.”
They look at each other, and the WANT is palpable.
But they don’t break.
Not yet.
🔥
At school, they’re professional.
Sienna teaches Harper. Jace picks her up at the end of the day. Brief conversations about homework and upcoming projects.
Nothing more.
But when their eyes meet—just for a second—the air CHARGES.
Harper notices.
“Dad, why are you being weird with Miss Martinez?”
“I’m not being weird.”
“You ARE. You both are. Like you’re trying not to look at each other.”
“We’re just… being professional, Harp.”
“That’s a weird kind of professional.”
She’s too perceptive. Gets it from her mother.
🔥
One month into their secret meetings, Jace calls Sienna at 11 PM.
“I can’t do this anymore,” he says without preamble.
Her breath catches. “What?”
“Seeing you. Talking to you. Wanting you. And not being able to HAVE you.”
“Jace—”
“But I also can’t NOT see you. So I’m stuck. We’re stuck.”
“I know. I feel the same way.”
“What do we do?”
“I don’t know. Wait until June?”
“That’s seven months away.”
“I know.”
“I’m going to lose my mind before then.”
“Me too.”
They’re quiet for a long moment.
Then Sienna says: “But we wait anyway. Because Harper’s worth it.”
And Jace knows she’s right.
Even if it’s killing him.
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