Page 44 of The Marriage Mission

"I shouldn't have waited for you to hire someone to redo the electrical on the bakery. I should've done it myself. That was my fault."

"I said I would?—"

Jules squeezed Jacqui tighter, cutting off whatever she would've said next. "When you hover like this, you suffocate me."

Jacqui's hands trembled against her baby sister's back. She warred with the need to pull her close, though at the same time to push her away.

"And then when things go wrong, you feel guilty about it, and I'm not even thinking about it."

Now Jacqui's hands went lax as they slid down Jules' back to land at her side. Jules let go and tilted her head back to look at her sister.

"I love that you're there for me. I'll never stop needing you. But I need to be in charge of my life."

Jacqui nodded slowly, her mind racing as she processed this shift in their dynamic. It was a painful realization, seeing the gap between her intentions and her actions through her sister's eyes. Because Jules was right, Jacqui was feeling guilty over something that wasn't her fault. Her first instinct was to not let Jules near a kitchen again. Just like she'd mostly stayed out of the kitchens after her parents' deaths.

"I would like to help you with the repairs."

Both Chou sisters turned to Fish. Jacqui had forgotten the man was there. Which was funny since he took up so much space in her living room.

"With what money?" huffed Jules. "I'm sure the insurance will point to the faulty wiring."

"I'll work for free," said Fish.

"I would never take advantage of you like that. And even if I had no scruples, we need supplies. And Mr. Pettigrew won't open up his hardware store as a charity."

Fish opened his mouth to speak again, likely to offer to give Jules the world. Or worse, to rob the local bank for her. Jacqui hadn't missed the way her sous chef had looked at her baby sister this past year.

"We have the money." Jules' gaze swung to Nãinai, who sat with her teacup in her hands watching the events unfold. "You need to release my inheritance money, Nãinai."

"I can't change my husband's will. You know the only way to get that money is to marry."

"Then I'll marry her."

Once again, all the Chou women turned to gape at Fish.

ChapterThirty-One

Noah sat in the dimly lit room, the only light a flicker from the streetlamp outside casting long shadows across the floor. He turned the Purple Heart medal over in his hands, its weight familiar yet foreign.

The medal had once seared his skin with its burden. He'd rarely picked it up, each touch a reminder of what he had lost. Now it lay cool and inert in his palm, a contradiction to the fire it stirred within him. The medal called him a hero. The title rang hollow.

He'd lost friends, brothers and sisters in arms, on the day he earned this honor. Their faces sometimes blurred in his memory, but their voices, their laughter, were as clear as if they were in the room with him. Each loss was a ghost that lingered, whispering of what might have been if only he'd been a little faster, a little smarter, a little better.

And yet, he had saved lives too—many lives. Lives that had gone on to embrace loved ones. To live out dreams. To make marks on the world.

Noah could almost feel the fire chief's hand on his back earlier that day. The chief's grip and been a firm, grateful pressure that spoke of lives continued because of his work on the restaurant. It should have felt good, validating. People inside Chow Town had been bruised but not broken, scared but safe. It could have been much worse had he not done the rewiring.

But was it enough?

In the stillness of the dark room, Noah let out a long, weary sigh, the sound heavy with fatigue and introspection. He leaned back in the chair, the creak of the wood a sharp punctuation in the quiet. The dichotomy of his emotions—the pride and the guilt, the honor and the horror—wrestled within him like a storm.

Noah closed his eyes, trying to reconcile the parts of himself that felt irreparably fractured. The Purple Heart in his hand didn't make the answers any clearer, nor did it ease the burden he carried. But as he sat there, enveloped by the night, he realized that maybe it wasn't about being enough by some intangible standard. Maybe it was about doing what he could, when he could, with all the strength and skill he had.

Tomorrow, he would rise and do it all again. He'd fix what was broken. He'd help where he could. And maybe, just maybe, he'd start to believe that he could mend the breaks within himself too.

A soft sigh escaped from Jacqui's lips. The sound sliced through the silence in her bedroom—their bedroom. He'd tried to leave town, but he couldn't. Not when his heart resided here.

In her sleep, Jacqui murmured a name. He leaned in to feel the exhale of the name against his upper lip. He could do that because she was his wife, and she had whispered his name in her sleep. Her hand stretched across the cool sheets of the bed, reaching for him, her fingers grasping at the empty space where he should have been.

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