Returning Hearts

POV: JACKSON

There was something wrong about celebrating a fifth birthday in a graveyard. Jackson felt it with every step he took.

The fog lay thick, curling low around the headstones and trees, swallowing the world in a muted gray hush. It dampened sound, dulled color—everything except the roses in his hands.

Sixty roses, their deep red petals vivid against the gloom. They were far too bright for a place like this. He clutched them tightly as though letting go might mean losing something more than flowers.

He did not hesitate as he walked. He never did. He knew exactly where she was.

This was the second March tenth he had spent in this graveyard. And he had thought it would be easier this time, but it wasn’t.

The heart-shaped gravestone emerged slowly through the fog. Jackson stopped in front of it, his chest tightening in that familiar, unwelcome way, and he glanced down at his watch.

10:42 a.m.

A breath left him, unsteady despite his effort to control it. “I’m right on time, baby.”

He lowered himself onto one knee, placing the roses beside the stone with careful hands, as though the smallest mistake might matter.

He reached toward the letters of the gravestone. For a moment, his fingers lingered there against the cold surface.

“I miss you every day,” he said, his voice beginning to give. “Life is so hard without you.”

The words hung there, fragile and insufficient.

For a moment, he let himself feel it—the full, crushing weight of her absence pressing in from all sides, as heavy as the fog itself.

The grief came swiftly then, sharp and unrelenting. He bowed his head, shoulders tightening as he tried—and failed—to contain it.

It was only when something shifted in the fog that he forced himself to stop.

A familiar thin dark figure in the distance was moving toward him. One he had not expected to see.

Jackson dragged a hand across his face, wiping away the evidence of his pain, and rose slowly to his feet. His breath steadied by effort alone. He pressed his lips briefly to his fingers before resting them against the top of the gravestone.

“Happy Birthday, baby.”

He turned, intending to leave quietly—but slowed as he drew nearer to the figure now standing beneath a nearby tree. Even without looking, he knew exactly who it was.

“She would be five today,” he said, sounding braver than he felt.

No reply.

He turned to face her. For a moment, he could only stare.

Her familiar green eyes met his, bright with tears that slipped down her cheeks. Her brown hair, once long and wild, now fell just to her shoulders. The black dress she wore seemed to weigh her down, making her look smaller than he remembered—more fragile.

“Missing her would be more bearable, if I still had you Auggie.” Jackson stares into August’s eyes with his words. “Missing you both is killing me.”

The words hung between them, heavy and unkind in their truth.

He took a step toward her before he could think better of it.

“Jackson, don’t.” August lowered her gaze to the simple white flowers in her hands, as though they might shield her from him.

But he needed to ask her the same question he had wondered the past two years.

“Did divorcing me and moving away get rid of the pain like you hoped?”

Her silence met him again, but he pushed on. “I have left you alone, signed the divorce papers, and done everything you have asked.” He paused, his voice tightening despite himself. “Have you found the happiness you were looking for?”

She didn’t answer. Didn’t even glance at him.

“Auggie?” he tried again, softer this time.

That seemed to reach her.

“Stop calling me that.” She drew in a shallow breath, her voice catching as she turned her face further away.

Jackson nodded once, reminding himself she was no longer his. Her happiness wasn’t suppose to be his concern.

He stepped closer, though he kept just enough distance between them, his hand slipping into his pocket as though to stop himself from reaching for her.

“August, I’m sorry. You came to see Zuri, not me.” He pulled a tissue from his pocket and held it out to her. “I will leave you alone.”

She hesitated before taking it. And for a brief moment, she looked up at him and something flickered there, something dangerously close to words as her mouth opened slightly.

But it passed and her lips pressed tightly together. Then her gaze dropped quickly to the gravestone.

“Zuri would have loved the roses,” she said softly.

Jackson let out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, though there was no humor in it. “I always wanted to get her a bike for her fifth birthday.” His gaze dropped. “A pink one. With all the tassels and Barbie stickers.”

For a fleeting second, he swears he could hear Zuri laughing. He squeezed his eyes shut, forcing the image away, and pushed his hands deep into his pockets as though he could hold himself together by doing so.

Silence settled between them once more.

After a moment, he turned to leave—then stopped, not quite able to face her again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low and heavy. “I couldn’t protect our family.”

The words pulled a sharper sound from her, something between a breath and a sob.

He wanted to hold her, but he knew she wouldn’t allow it. So, he forced himself to walk away, disappearing into the thick fog.

***

^The Previous Day^

“Good morning, Mr. Frame.” The new secretary sprang up from her desk the moment Jackson stepped through the entry doors, her smile bright and eager. “I like your tie.”

Jackson did not so much as slow his stride. He passed her without a glance, heading straight for the elevator as though her voice had never reached him at all.

“Oh, sweetie, don’t waste your breath on that one,” another woman murmured as she swept past the desk. “He is nice to look at but is hard as stone on the inside.”

Hard as stone. If only that were true, he thought as he rode up in the elevator.

The office hummed with the steady noise of ringing phones and overlapping conversations as he stepped out onto the tenth floor.

“Jackson!”

Tommy appeared at his side almost immediately, falling into step with practiced ease. Tall, dark, and far too energetic for the hour, he grinned as though the day held nothing but promise.

“I made us plans this weekend. Me, you, and two of Columbus’s finest women.”

“No, Tommy,” Jackson said flatly, already turning toward his office.

“Come on. Just one drink. Sunday night. Or even dinner.” Tommy followed him inside without invitation.

“No.” Jackson set his briefcase on the desk and slipped off his coat, his gaze lifting just enough to meet Tommy’s.

“But this girl is the one for you. I swear, she has eyes that will make your heart stop beating. And the body of an angel.” Tommy shifted closer, hands tucked into his pockets, his excitement barely contained.

“I already had the one, Tommy.” Jackson’s eyes flicked briefly to the window overlooking the city before returning to him. “Stop trying to set me up and focus on work.”

Tommy’s grin faded, though only slightly. “August was great, but it is time to move on, Jax. It’s been two years.”

Jackson lowered himself into his chair, shaking his head. “It has only been a year and a half. I’m busy this weekend anyway, Tommy.”

Tommy took a step toward the door, then paused, glancing back. “All weekend? Sitting alone in your apartment, drinking and being depressed doesn’t count, Jax.”

“Bye, Tommy.” Jackson had already turned to his computer.

“Yeah.” Tommy lingered a moment longer, as though there were more words waiting to be said, but Jackson shook his head. He didn’t need anymore words from Tommy.

And with that, Tommy slipped out into the noise of the office, the door clicked shut behind him.

For a while, Jackson let himself disappear into his work. Numbers, emails, deadlines—things that did not ask anything of him except attention.

Then the intercom buzzed, breaking the quiet.

“Mr. Frame, your one p.m. is here.”

“Send him in, Josie.” Jackson stood, buttoning his grey jacket as he moved toward the door.

It opened almost at once.

“Hi, Dad.” Jackson gave a small nod as his father stepped inside, followed closely by his mother. He knew she would be in tow, but he was still annoyed by her presence. “I see you brought Mom.”

“How terrible is it that we had to call your secretary just to schedule an appointment to see you—our own son.” Rachel pulled him into a tight hug, though her words carried more scolding than warmth.

“Oh, don’t nag the boy, Rachel.” Henry shook Jackson’s hand with an easy smile. “He is busy being successful.”

“I am not nagging him, Henry. I am being a mother, and a son should never be too successful for his mother. I don’t care how old he is.” Rachel adjusted Jackson’s collar as she spoke. “How have you been, sweetie?”

Looking slightly annoyed, Jackson replied, “I am fine, Mom. Would you like to sit down?”

His dad made himself comfortable on the couch as Rachel seemed not to notice his offer.

“You look so handsome, honey. Brock says you have been working out. Has that been helping take your mind off things?” She looked at Jackson sympathetically.

“Mom. I said I was fine.” Jackson rolled his eyes as he looked toward his father. “But yes, Brock and I work out a few nights a week together.”

“Well, I guess you at least make time for one of your family members. Speaking of family, well... with tomorrow being March tenth, we thought you would like to do something as a family. You, Brock, and us?” Rachel moved over to sit on the couch with Henry and placed her hand on his knee.

Jackson shifted slightly, his discomfort showing. “Is that what this is about?”

“Well, your mother thought it would be helpful if we all got together and had a birthday celebration.” Henry’s tone was clear that he disagreed with the idea.

“Helpful?” Jackson shook his head as he moved toward the window, looking out over the busy street below. He paused before responding. “Celebration. For what?” He turned back toward his parents. “She isn’t a year older.”

“A celebration of her life, darling. Just a day to remember her.” Rachel quickly rose from the couch and moved toward her son, but he stepped away.

“Mom, I see her face and hear her voice every day. I don’t need another reminder.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I just wanted to do something nice to remember her on her birthday. I didn’t mean to upset you.” Rachel said, clearly upset.

Jackson sighed heavily, massaging his temples as he sat down, trying to steady himself. “I’m not upset. Thank you for the offer, but I would rather spend the day alone, if that is okay.”

“If that is what you need, then we will respect that.” Henry rose from the couch. “You know where to find us if you need us, though.”

“We will be at Mike’s Pizza around noon if you change your mind.” Rachel’s voice softened with hope as she moved closer to Henry.

Jackson sat silently, his gaze fixed on the floor.

“Well, we better let him get back to work. Rachel, let’s go.” Henry guided Rachel toward the door.

Jackson nodded, as if coming to a decision. “So, have you already had lunch?”

“No, we were hoping you would join us.” Rachel adjusted her purse on her arm sounding hopeful.

“I would love to, Mom.” Jackson rose and grabbed his coat. “Where should we go?”

“That local pasta house is always a good choice, and I know it is your favorite.” Rachel smiled warmly as she took Henry’s arm and led the way out of Jackson’s office.

The last thing he wanted was to spend time with his family tomorrow. He knew exactly how it would go. The careful looks. The quiet voices. The same words, repeated as though saying them often enough might make them true.

It wasn’t your fault.

It had been a year and a half since he lost everything.

His daughter.

His wife.

And no matter how many times people told him otherwise—

Jackson knew the truth.

Zuri’s death was his fault.