Page 29 of When Summer Returns

“Teachers notice things, honey.” Dolores’s voice gentled, like waves lapping at the shore rather than crashing against it. “Especially when a bright girl starts missing school, or shows up with long sleeves on hot days. Or when she flinches if someone moves too quickly nearby.”

The world narrowed around Jessie, the sounds of the beach fading as blood rushed in her ears. “You knew?”

“I suspected.” The older woman’s eyes held a sadness that seemed bottomless. “I reported my concerns about Jesse more than once. Called social services on the mainland. Talked to Principal Forrest until I was blue in the face.”

“You tried to help me?” The question emerged as barely more than a whisper, something fragile and disbelieving in it.

“Oh, honey.” Dolores squeezed her hand. “Of course I did. You were one of mine.”

Something cracked open inside Jessie’s chest—a door she’d sealed shut years ago suddenly thrown wide. Tears welled in her eyes, hot and unexpected. She’d spent her entire childhood believing no one had seen, no one had cared enough to notice. To discover now that someone had not only seen but tried to intervene was almost too much to bear.

“I never knew,” she managed, her voice thick. “I always thought I was invisible. That no one saw what was happening.”

“Island life makes everything harder—not enough resources, too many blind eyes.” Dolores’s voice carried years of frustration. “And Sheriff Biggs was never one for confrontation, especially with someone like your father. Man would rather ignore a hurricane than face the wind. Everyone was a little afraid of Jesse.”

A tear slipped down Jessie’s cheek, followed by another. Not tears of sadness, exactly, but of recognition—the profound relief of being seen for who she truly was, of having her pain acknowledged after so many years of careful concealment.

Dolores pulled a tissue from her pocket and handed it over. “There, now. That’s ancient water under the bridge. But I’ve always wondered if that’s why you left so suddenly. If maybe things got worse.”

“They did,” Jessie admitted, dabbing at her eyes. “The night before I left, he—” She stopped, unable to finish the sentence even now.

“You don’t need to say it.” Dolores nodded, understanding in her eyes. “I’m just glad you found a way out. And I’m even gladder you found your way back. Means you’re stronger than what happened to you.”

“I don’t feel strong most days.”

“Strength isn’t about feeling, child. It’s about doing. And you came back to the place that hurt you most.” Dolores’s certainty was as solid as the island’s limestone foundation. “That takes more courage than most people ever find in a lifetime.”

Jessie took a shaky breath, overwhelmed by the realization that someone had witnessed her pain all those years ago—had seen behind the careful façade she’d constructed and tried to help, even if those efforts had ultimately failed. It changed nothing about what had happened, and yet it changed everything about how she carried it.

“Thank you,” she said finally. “For seeing me back then. Even if I didn’t know it.”

“Teachers see everything.” Dolores winked, deliberately lightening the moment. “Even when you think we’re just writing math problems on the board.”

With a gentle pat on Jessie’s hand, Dolores turned to help a new customer approaching her rental kiosk, leaving Jessie to absorb the unexpected revelations that had shifted her understanding of her childhood.

She drove back toward Luke’s house, taking a different route that wound through the interior of the island. Dense vegetation crowded the narrow road, creating a tunnel of green that occasionally opened to reveal small ponds or clearings. Glimpses of wildlife appeared and vanished—a startled deer, a family of raccoons, a magnificent osprey perched atop a dead pine.

The island was revealing itself to her gradually, like a shy acquaintance warming to renewed friendship. Its familiar features overlaid with new developments, its essential character unchanged despite the passage of time.

Not unlike Luke himself, she reflected. The core of him remained recognizable beneath the accumulated layers of experience and hardship. What else might she discover beneath those layers, given time and trust?

The thought accompanied her all the way back to Luke’s house, where she found herself unexpectedly looking forward to the evening ahead. Perhaps dinner with Maggie would provide further insights into the island’s transformation—and the man who had apparently helped shape it.

She climbed the steps to Luke’s porch, pausing to admire the view of the ocean visible between swaying palms. For the first time since her return, she felt something close to belonging—not complete, not yet, but possible. A foundation upon which something new might be built, if she had the courage to try.

The question was whether either of them was brave enough to risk their hearts a second time, given how spectacularly they’d crashed and burned the first.

CHAPTERSEVEN

Luke leanedagainst the worn wooden counter in the island’s police station, his body outwardly relaxed while tension coiled inside him like a predator waiting to strike. Sunlight filtered through the weathered blinds, casting golden bars across the pine floorboards of what had once been a fisherman’s cottage before the county government claimed it for more official purposes. The scent of coffee and old paperwork hung in the air, mingling with the ever-present salt breeze that found its way through every crack on Seeker’s Island.

He’d been waiting fifteen minutes, watching the lone desk sergeant file paperwork with the unhurried pace that island life cultivated in even the most efficient souls. Every minute that passed stoked the fire that had been building since Jessie’s revelation on the beach. The knowledge that Reece—his oldest friend, his brother in all but blood—might have played a role in the years of misunderstanding between him and Jessie had settled in his gut like molten lead.

The front door swung open with a familiar creak, bringing with it a gust of warm air and the man himself. Reece Wells filled the doorframe, his sheriff’s uniform lending additional authority to his naturally commanding presence. Afternoon sunlight glinted off his badge, the symbol of authority that still occasionally surprised Luke when he remembered the hell-raising boy who’d once been his partner in mischief. A cup of coffee steamed in his hand, and his dark features relaxed into a smile when he spotted Luke.

“Do I need to file a report about you stalking the law?” Reece made his way toward his office, gesturing for Luke to follow.

Luke said nothing, merely pushed away from the counter and followed Reece into the small space that served as the sheriff’s headquarters. Awards and certifications hung in simple frames on the wall—evidence of Reece’s ten years in the Army’s Delta Force before returning to take up the sheriff’s badge. A photograph of them as teenagers, grinning wildly on the deck of a fishing boat, sat on a corner shelf—a reminder of simpler days.

---