Page 20 of When Summer Returns

Now, sitting beside that man in the moonlight, she found herself cataloging the changes fifteen years had wrought. The fine lines at the corners of his eyes spoke of laughter and squinting against sun-glare on water. The slight bump on his once-straight nose suggested at least one break. His shoulders had broadened considerably since his teenage years, tapering to a narrow waist that hinted at regular physical activity.

She couldn’t help but notice how the fabric of his T-shirt stretched across his chest when he moved, revealing the outline of muscles. His hands, resting casually on his knees, bore new scars and calluses—the physical record of a life lived through purpose and dedication.

“You’re staring,” he said without looking at her.

“Just trying to reconcile my memories with reality.”

“And how does reality measure up?”

“It has more wrinkles,” she said solemnly.

His laugh burst out, genuine and rich, vibrating through the space between them. “God, I forgot how you could do that.”

“Do what?”

“Cut through the pretense. Say exactly what you’re thinking.”

Jessie’s smile faded. “Trust me, you don’t want to hear exactly what I’m thinking most of the time.”

“Try me.”

The invitation hung between them, deceptively simple. The moonlight softened his features, making him look younger, more like the boy she’d loved. Or perhaps that was just the magic of Seeker’s Island working on her memories, blurring past and present until they bled together like watercolors.

“I was thinking about choices,” she said carefully. “And consequences.”

“Heavy thoughts for a beach night.”

“It’s been a heavy week.”

Luke nodded, reaching down to scoop a handful of sand, letting it sift through his fingers in a glittering cascade. “You’re good with the customers. Better than I expected.”

“That corporate training had to be useful for something.” She drew her knees up, wrapping her arms around them. “Turns out defusing tension with difficult clients isn’t that different from handling entitled tourists who think their margarita doesn’t have enough tequila.”

“Except you can’t just kick out shareholders.”

“You’d be surprised what you can do with a well-timed ‘market adjustment’ explanation and enough pie charts.”

His expression turned thoughtful. “Seriously, though. You’ve adapted faster than I thought you would.”

“Because you expected the city girl to fail?”

“Because I expected Jessie James to run at the first sign of pressure. Like last time.”

The words landed between them with the impact of stones dropped in still water, ripples of tension spreading outward. Jessie felt her body tense, her easy relaxation evaporating.

“That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” His voice remained calm, which somehow made it worse than if he’d shown anger. “You disappeared without a word, Jess. Not even a goodbye.”

She looked away, focusing on the hypnotic rhythm of waves touching shore, retreating, returning. “I left a note.”

“So you keep saying.”

Something in his tone made her look back at him sharply. “You don’t believe me?”

“I believe you think you left a note.” Luke’s profile was etched against the night sky, jaw tight with tension. “But I never found it. And believe me, I looked.”

The simple statement unraveled something in her chest. She’d spent fifteen years assuming he’d found her note explaining everything—her father’s threats, her desperate plan—and chosen not to follow. That he’d read her plea to meet her on the mainland and decided she wasn’t worth the trouble. That understanding had calcified into a protective shell around her heart. Now, with those few words, Luke had cracked it open.

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