Chapter 3 — The Fundraiser Invitation
Jaxon
The morning sun slanted through the thin curtains of Jaxon’s modest home, casting golden stripes across the kitchen table where the day’s mail sat in an uneven pile. The light warmed the room, but Jaxon felt a knot in his chest that the golden glow couldn’t untangle. He sipped his coffee slowly, the familiar bitterness anchoring him amid the surreal haze of the past few days. Winning the lottery hadn’t changed the taste of coffee, at least. That was something. The clink of his mug against the table reminded him of the rhythm of his old life, a rhythm he feared losing.
His fingers absently toyed with the worn brass key hanging from a leather cord around his neck. The Refurbished Bus Key Pendant felt heavier than usual this morning, its groove-worn surface pressing into his palm. Like an anchor. His gaze drifted to the stack of mail, mostly the usual—flyers, bills, and some glossy catalog he didn’t remember ordering. But there was one thing that stood out, bright and colorful beneath the mundane clutter.
A flier practically begged for attention: “Community Fundraiser for the Arts—Join Us in Supporting the Heart of Our Town!”
Setting down his mug, Jaxon pulled the flier free. Sketched lanterns and music notes decorated its edges, alongside a drawing of the Town Square’s iconic oak trees. He scanned the details—the fundraiser was scheduled for the upcoming weekend, featuring live music, local food stalls, and raffles. The proceeds, it explained, would go toward preserving the town’s historical landmarks and funding youth art programs.
A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. This was exactly the kind of thing he loved about his town—the way people here always came together when it mattered. His smile faded slightly when his eyes caught on a name scrawled at the bottom of the flier: “Organized by Elyssa Rainier.”
His pulse quickened, and his grip on the paper tightened. Elyssa. He hadn’t seen her in years. Not since high school, when she’d left for the city to chase her dreams in event planning. And now, here she was, back in town and spearheading something that seemed so… her. Ambitious. Polished. Purposeful.
Memories surfaced, uninvited and vivid: the way her laughter had lit up the school hallways, the way she could charm a room without even trying, how he’d admired her from a distance, always too quiet, too unsure of himself to say what he felt. He remembered carrying her books once, briefly, the brush of her fingers as she took them back—it was nothing, really, but it was everything to him then. The years hadn’t dulled those memories. If anything, time had only made her seem more unattainable, each recollection sharpened by the knowledge of how little he’d ever dared to offer her. And now? Now he was the same grounded man he’d always been—only with a fortune he didn’t feel he deserved and a heart still tangled up in old insecurities.
A sharp knock at the door yanked him out of his thoughts. The sound was followed immediately by Jonah stepping inside without waiting for an invitation, his signature smirk firmly in place.
“Morning, big brother,” Jonah drawled, flopping into the chair across from Jaxon. “What’s got you looking all dreamy-eyed this fine day?”
Jaxon quickly folded the flier, slipping it beneath the pile of mail before Jonah could catch a glimpse. “Nothing. Just sorting through the usual.”
Jonah raised an eyebrow, his sharp gaze flicking toward the stack of mail. “Uh-huh. ‘Usual’ doesn’t really apply to you anymore, does it? Not since…” He waved a hand vaguely toward the pendant around Jaxon’s neck, his teasing tone edged with something harder.
Jaxon sighed and leaned back in his chair. “I haven’t decided what I’m doing with the money yet, Jonah.”
“So you keep saying.” Jonah propped his feet on the edge of the table, his grin fading just enough to let frustration creep in. “You know, there’s a lot you *could* do with it. Buy a new truck, a bigger house, one of those yachts they show on TV. Hell, take a vacation somewhere that doesn’t smell like farm dust for once. Treat yourself, Jax.”
Jaxon shook his head, his fingers brushing the pendant like a reflex. “I don’t need all that.”
Jonah’s expression hardened, his teasing dropping into something more serious. “Then what are you going to do? Keep pretending you’re the same guy driving buses and fixing fences? People are going to notice sooner or later.”
“I’ve been thinking about investing in the community,” Jaxon replied quietly, steadying his voice. “There’s a lot this town could use. I was considering… maybe fixing up the Old Bus Depot. Turning it into something useful for everyone.”
Jonah laughed, a sharp, incredulous sound. “The bus depot? Come on, Jax. You’ve got a chance to do something big, something exciting, and you’re daydreaming about patching up a pile of rust and weeds?”
“It’s not just about me,” Jaxon said, his tone firmer now. His grip on the pendant tightened. “This town gave me everything. I want to give back.”
Jonah stood, brushing imaginary dust off his jeans. “Well, don’t say I didn’t warn you when people start crawling out of the woodwork to take advantage of you.”
The door clicked shut a little harder than it needed to as Jonah left. Jaxon watched the empty frame for a long moment, his chest heavy with the weight of Jonah’s words. They always lingered, burrowing into the part of him that wasn’t sure he was cut out for all of this.
His gaze drifted back to the flier, now half-buried under the mail. The vibrant colors and Elyssa’s name glared back at him, pulling his thoughts toward a different kind of weight in his chest—excitement laced with nerves. Could this fundraiser be a step toward something meaningful? A way to contribute without drawing attention? A chance to see her again?
He folded the flier carefully, tucking it into his jacket pocket. For the first time in days, he felt something solid beneath his uncertainty: resolve.
By the time Jaxon arrived at the Town Square that afternoon, the place was already buzzing with preparations. He wandered toward the community board near the bakery, his hands buried deep in his jacket. The familiar hum of activity filled the air: the scrape of chairs being unfolded, the murmur of neighbors catching up, the occasional clatter of tools. The oak trees rustled softly above, their leaves flickering with late-afternoon sunlight.
The square exuded its usual charm, the cobblestones warm underfoot. The scent of fresh bread mingled with the sharp tang of sawdust from a newly assembled stage. Laughter rippled through the plaza as teenagers hauled folding chairs, their energy infectious. Jaxon’s steps slowed as he reached the community board. There it was again—the flier, larger and even more vivid than the one at home. His gaze traced the details, lingering on Elyssa’s signature. What had brought her back? And why this project?
“You’re interested in the fundraiser?”
The voice startled him. He glanced up to find Mara Lake standing a few feet away, arms crossed and a knowing smile curving her lips. Mara had always been Elyssa’s sharp-tongued best friend, and time hadn’t dulled her knack for reading people.
“Thinking about it,” Jaxon replied, trying for nonchalance as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets.
Mara tilted her head, her grin widening. “Oh, I bet you are. You know, Elyssa’s been working her tail off on this thing. Could use all the help she can get.”
“I’m not sure I’d be much help,” he said, glancing away.
Mara snorted. “Don’t sell yourself short, hero. Besides, I think she’d appreciate seeing a familiar face.”
Jaxon opened his mouth to respond, but Mara waved him off with a chuckle, disappearing into the crowd before he could say a word. He stood there for a long moment, the square bustling around him as his thoughts churned.
His hand brushed against the flier in his pocket. It was daunting, the idea of facing Elyssa again after all these years. But as he looked around at the square—the heart of the community—he felt a sense of purpose threading through his unease. This town had given him so much. Maybe it was time to start giving back.
Not for recognition. Not to prove anything. Just because it was the right thing to do.
