The Quiet Hours of Home

Coconut Grove smelled like salt and sunlight, the air warm with jasmine and distant ocean wind. Jessica stepped out of the car and closed the door gently behind her, blinking against the brightness as if it were something unfamiliar. The house was the same, white shutters, low-slung roof, and overgrown bougainvillea curling around the fence like it had been waiting for them.

Kevin stood on the porch, one hand in his pocket, the other holding a sweating glass of lemonade. His expression flickered, surprise, relief, and something deeper, before he came down the steps in three strides and pulled Jessica into a hug that nearly broke her.

“You look like hell,” he said into her shoulder.

Jessica smiled against his shirt. “You always knew how to make a girl feel welcome.”

He let her go, turning to hug Leanna next. There was a tightness in his face Jessica hadn’t seen before, a kind of quiet worry that hadn’t been there years ago.

From the doorway, Hannah appeared, arms folded, soft eyes scanning Jessica like she was making sure all the pieces were still there.

“You came back,” she said.

Jessica stepped forward, unsure for a second, then let herself be pulled into a hug. Hannah held her like she had every right to, like she was family.

Olivia hung back, awkward and uncertain. Kevin caught her hesitation and gave her a grin. “Get over here, O. You’re not exempt.”

Once the greetings settled, they moved inside, into the cool hush of the house. The living room smelled of wood polish and fresh coffee. Books lined the walls. Family photos dotted the side table, Kevin and Hannah on a boat, Jessica Marie with sand in her hair, and a framed ultrasound that hadn’t been there before.

Jessica’s breath caught. “She’s…”

“Six,” Kevin said. “And fast. You’ll see.”

As if on cue, the sound of small footsteps came bounding down the hallway.

Jessica Marie burst into the room in a blur of pink and sun-drenched curls. She froze when she saw Jessica, then tilted her head.

“You’re the other Jessica,” she said solemnly.

Jessica crouched down, smiling. “The other one, huh?”

Jessica Marie nodded. “I’m the little one.”

“That you are.”

Jessica let the child wrap her arms around her neck. It was clumsy and honest and perfect.

The moment stretched.

Then Hannah clapped her hands. “Come on, let’s get everyone fed. You can’t save the world on an empty stomach.”

Dinner was laughter and warmth, a rhythm Jessica had nearly forgotten how to follow. The wine flowed. Olivia told a story about a client who tried to pay them in stolen artwork. Leanna rolled her eyes and corrected every detail. Kevin kept refilling plates. Hannah watched it all like a woman who had made peace with the chaos of love.

Later, after Jessica Marie had fallen asleep curled on the couch with a stuffed flamingo, Jessica stepped out onto the back porch. Kevin joined her a few minutes later, handing her a beer.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he said.

Jessica stared out at the dark silhouette of palm trees. “But you know.”

“I saw the news. Jason’s body.”

Jessica nodded.

Kevin leaned on the railing. “I never bought that you were him. Not really. You had his eyes, maybe. But you always had your own mind.”

Jessica’s throat tightened. “They built me to replace him. His memories were the blueprint. I didn’t know until recently.”

Kevin looked at her, and in that look was everything they had shared. “Doesn’t matter what they built. You’re still Jess.”

She didn’t answer. Not yet. But she didn’t look away either. And for one quiet hour, beneath the Florida sky, the war outside could wait.