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𝐓𝐇𝐄 movie played on in the background, but Missie wasn't really watching. Her mug sat warm in her hands, but untouched. Most of the kids had drifted into that halfway space between talking and sleep—Mason sprawled across the arm of the couch, Farrah tucked beneath a blanket, Whitney and Kaitlin, tucked beneath the blankets on the floor, and Brooke leaning into Landon with her eyes closed.

Missie sat with her tea, cupped in both hands, her fingers warm but her thoughts somewhere else entirely.

It always came in quietly, these memories of Jack. Not like a storm—like a song. Familiar. Gentle. Inevitable. She smiled to herself.

Flashback
— February 1990; Chicago IL

23 year old Missie had just landed a promotion at the museum. Ali was in from San Diego, and Beth had insisted they celebrate. One night out. Just one. Just the three of them.

The bar on Clark Street buzzed with low conversation and the occasional clatter of a pool cue hitting the floor. It wasn't glamorous, but it had charm—and more importantly, it had cheap drinks and decent music.

"Okay, I'll get drinks," Beth said, already weaving her way toward the bar, gold hoops catching the low light.

Ali looped her arm through Missie's. "Let's find us a table before someone takes the last halfway-decent one."

They slid into the booth, Ali scooting across the cracked vinyl seat. She dropped her purse beside her, and let out a sigh that was part excitement, part exhaustion. "Okay, remind me never to schedule lab rotations and volunteer shifts in the same week. I think I've slept, like, nine hours since Monday."

Missie grinned. "You're the one who wanted med school."

"I know. Be a doctor, save lives, no sleep forever. They didn't put that on the brochures." Ali said

Beth reappeared just then, balancing three drinks in her hands. "Okay, one vodka cranberry, one rum and coke and one rum and cherry coke for our newly promoted museum girlz"

"Thank you, bartender of my heart," Missie said with a grin, taking hers as Beth slid into the seat beside Ali.

Beth rolled her eyes affectionately. "Ali giving you the med school horror stories again?"

"She's trying to scare me into law school," Missie teased.

Ali laughed. "Too late. You already signed up for dusty pottery and priceless artifacts."

As the three of them laughed, Missie casually glanced across the room—And everything stopped. He was leaning against a wooden post near the back, beer in hand, half-listening to the group of guys around him. He didn't look like he belonged to the noise—more like he was quietly enduring it. His posture was casual, but his eyes... his eyes were something else. Focused. Curious. They landed on her. And held.

Missie blinked, her breath catching just enough for Ali to notice. "What?" Ali asked, pausing mid-sip. "Do I have something on my face?"

"No," Missie said slowly, still watching him. "I just... I um...."

Beth raised an eyebrow. "What is she—" She followed Missie's line of sight, then let out a low whistle. "Oh. Ohhh."

Ali turned too, eyes widening when she caught sight of him. "Okay, yeah. That man does not belong to a frat house."

Missie didn't answer. She was still caught in the moment. Because just then, the jukebox crackled—and the opening notes of Keith Whitley's Ten Feet Away began to play. And Jack... Jack was still looking right at her.

Missie felt the music before she even registered the song. Slow, tender, the kind of melody that wrapped around a moment and held it in place. Jack pushed away from the post, threw his beer bottle away, and started walking toward her.

Beth lightly kicked Missie's foot under the table. "He's coming over here."

Missie's heart thudded somewhere near her throat as she tried—and failed—to look casual.

Jack stopped just a few feet from their table, gaze locked on her, but polite enough to acknowledge the other two. "Sorry to interrupt," he said, his kind voice low. "But I figured if I didn't ask, I'd regret it all night."

Missie tilted her head. "Ask what?"

Jack offered his hand. "Would you dance with me?"

Beth mouthed say yes, and Ali was already grinning like she'd just won a bet. Missie didn't hesitate. She slid her hand into his. The world went quiet as he led her toward the small space near the jukebox where a few couples were swaying slowly. The lights were low, gold and soft, and the air smelled faintly of bourbon and lemon wedges from the bar.

Jack placed one hand gently at her waist, the other still holding hers, and pulled her in like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"You don't look like you do this often," Missie said, her voice just above a whisper.

"I don't," Jack admitted. "But then, you don't really look like someone who lets strangers lead them into slow dances either."

She smiled. "I don't."

They swayed slowly, the music filling every breath between them. She could feel the steady rhythm of his heart beneath his shirt, the warmth of his hand where it rested at the small of her back.

"I'm Jack, by the way," he added after a beat. "Jack Pearson."

"Missie." she smiled

"Missie," he repeated like a quiet promise. "Beautiful name."

"Thanks. It's short for Melissa, but no one calls me that except my parents when they're mad at me and the DMV." Missie laughed

Jack chuckled. "Well, I'll make sure not to."

For a moment, neither of them said anything. The song was winding down, but neither of them stepped away.

Missie looked up at him. "So, Jack. What made you cross the room?"

Jack's eyes met her eyes, his own soft but steady. "Something about the way you looked at me."

Missie felt her stomach flip. Something she had never felt before. Not even with Johnny. "Like what?"

"Like you already knew me." Jack said

The final notes of the song faded into the low hum of conversation and clinking glasses. Jack didn't let go of her hand right away—not until they were halfway back across the room, and even then, it was slow, like neither of them quite wanted the moment to end.

Beth and Ali were exactly as Missie had left them: perched at the table, eyes locked on the approaching pair.

"Well," Beth said, grinning like a cat with cream, "that didn't look like a first dance."

Missie rolled her eyes, cheeks still flushed. "It was."

Jack glanced between them with an amused smile. "Should I be nervous?"

"You should always be nervous around best friends," Ali said matter-of-factly, holding out a hand. "I'm Ali with an i. Ali Mills. She loves Robby Benson and David Cassidy. Cherry cokes and cherry shakes are the key to her heart."

"Duly noted," Jack said as he shook her hand, then turned to Beth.

"Beth," she said with a small nod. "I'm the protective one."

Jack didn't flinch. "Good. She deserves that."

The response caught both women slightly off guard, but in the best way. Beth's expression softened, and Ali gave Missie a quick, subtle thumbs-up beneath the table.

"Would you like to sit?" Missie offered, her voice still laced with the quiet buzz of what just happened.

Jack smiled at her, then pulled out the empty chair beside her without answering—like the choice had already been made.

Beth raised an eyebrow as she slid one of the drinks toward Missie. "Well, he survived the first test."

"Test?" Jack asked, clearly amused

Beth smiled, sipping her drink. "You made her smile. That's test one."

Ali leaned in, elbows on the table. "Test two is this: tell us something real about yourself that isn't your job or your favorite band."

Jack thought for a second, then said, "I used to bring my sisters ice cream after every breakup. Didn't matter the time—one of them called, I'd show up with a pint and two spoons."

Ali blinked, impressed. "Okay. That's adorable."

Beth smirked. "Classic middle brother energy."

"Oldest, actually," Jack said with a shrug. "Guess I just liked being the fixer."

Ali and Beth exchanged a quick look, one that clearly said he's a good one.

Missie glanced at Jack, a smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "You're full of surprises."

Jack gave her a crooked grin. "Just getting started."

Beth cleared her throat loudly. "Okay, well now I'm going to need another drink."

Missie laughed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She couldn't believe this was real. That the guy who'd walked across the room during a Keith Whitley song and asked her to dance was now sitting at their table like he belonged there. Because somehow... it already felt like he did.

____

"Mom?" Mason's voice tugged her gently back to the present.

Missie glanced over. He was watching her, that same quiet expression Jack used to wear when he was listening closely. "Just thinking," she said.

"About dad?" Mason asked

Missie nodded. "About the night I met him."

Brooke sat up a little, curious now. "You've never told us that story."

Missie chuckled softly. "It was 1990. I had just gotten my first job at the art museum, and your aunt Beth and aunt Ali insisted we celebrate. So we went to this bar just off Michigan Avenue. Beth went to grab the drinks, Ali and I found a table, and she was in the middle of talking about medical school when I looked up... and saw him."

Farrah leaned in, "Uncle Jack?"

Missie smiled, soft and faraway. "He was leaning against a post near the back, trying to look like he wasn't listening to the chaos around him. But I could tell he was watching. A little outside of it all. Then he looked at me. And... it was like the whole room quieted."

Whitney let out a breath. "Wow."

Missie continued, her voice almost a whisper. "Then Keith Whitley came on—Ten Feet Away—and before I could even wrap my head around what was happening, he was walking over. He asked me to dance. Just like that."

"And you said yes?" Kaitlin asked.

"I did. We danced, talked. He told me his name. And after that, I brought him back to the table to meet Beth and Ali."

"You introduced him that night?" Mason asked.

Missie nodded. "I did. Beth was instantly suspicious—of course—but Jack charmed her in under five minutes. Ali liked him right away. Said any guy who brought his sisters ice cream after a breakup had to be decent."

Farrah propped herself up on one elbow. "So it was love at first sight?"

Missie hesitated, then nodded. "Yes. It felt like my whole life had just shifted slightly... and now it was facing him."

Everyone grew quiet again. The kind of silence that settles when you can feel the weight of something beautiful.

"And after that?" Landon asked softly.

Missie smiled. "He showed up outside the museum three days later with coffee and said, 'I figured I'd try my luck again. Unless I read that night wrong?' And I told him no—he read it just right."

Mason's voice was low. "He always said the best decision he ever made was asking you your name."

Missie blinked away the sting behind her eyes. The movie kept playing, but now the air was filled with something else—memory, maybe. Or maybe just love that had never really left.

Brooke reached over and took her hand. "He'd be proud of you, Mom. You're allowed to have another chapter."

Missie didn't answer right away. But her fingers curled gently around her daughter's, and she nodded.

"I know," she whispered. "I just... loved the first one so much."