Page 42 of When Summer Returns

“Jess?” He reached for her, confusion and concern mingling as she backed farther away, her arms wrapping protectively around her midsection. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”

“No,” she said quickly, too quickly. “No, I just—” She sucked in a breath, visibly struggling to compose herself. “I’m sorry. I can’t do this. Not now. Not yet.”

The pain and fear in her eyes struck him like a physical blow. She was looking at him but seeing something else—someone else—and the realization was like ice water in his veins.

“Jessie,” he began carefully, making no move to approach her. “Whatever’s happening right now, whatever you’re remembering, you’re safe. I would never hurt you.”

“I know that,” she said, though her body language suggested otherwise. “It’s not you, it’s—” She shook her head, unable to find words to explain.

Outside, the storm began to ease, the deluge becoming a steady patter, the wind dropping to occasional gusts. Jessie glanced toward the door, clearly calculating her escape route.

“I should go,” she said, her composure returning though her eyes remained troubled. “The rain’s letting up.”

“You don’t have to run,” Luke said quietly. “Not from me. Not anymore.”

Something in his tone reached her, making her pause with her hand on the door latch. “I’m not running,” she said, though they both recognized the lie. “I just need some time to think.”

“Jess—”

“Please, Luke.” The raw vulnerability in her voice stopped him more effectively than any argument could have. “Please just give me some space.”

He nodded once, stepping back to give her clear access to the door. “Whatever you need.”

Relief and regret mingled in her expression as she pushed open the door. The storm had indeed abated, leaving behind that peculiar freshness that followed summer rain, the world washed clean if only temporarily.

She paused on the threshold, looking back at him with an expression he couldn’t quite decipher. “I’m sorry,” she said again, and then she was gone, hurrying across the wet sand toward the distant lights of Seeker’s Paradise.

Luke remained in the doorway, watching her retreating figure grow smaller until she disappeared around a bend in the shoreline. Only then did he step out into the rain-washed night, the taste of her still on his lips, the memory of her sudden fear a mystery he was determined to solve.

Whatever ghosts haunted Jessie, whatever wounds she still carried from her past, Luke had no intention of letting her face them alone. Not again. Not ever again.

CHAPTERNINE

Heavy cloud coverpressed against the guest room windows, casting Jessie in a muted gray light that matched her fractured sleep. The approaching storm had changed the island’s air overnight—thicker, electric, carrying that unmistakable metallic taste that preceded significant weather. She hadn’t slept more than twenty minutes at a stretch, her mind endlessly replaying the beach shed encounter—Luke’s hands on her face, his lips on hers, and the flash of panic that had sent her running the moment he’d touched her ribs.

She pressed her palm flat against the fitted sheet, feeling the gentle give of the mattress beneath her weight. Safe. Dry. Far from the dark memories that had ambushed her last night. The clock on the nightstand showed 7:37, and the house held the particular silence that suggested Luke had already left for the bar.

Relief mingled with disappointment. She wasn’t ready to face him, to explain a reaction she barely understood herself. But the prospect of another day dancing around each other, pretending nothing had changed, felt equally impossible.

The air-conditioning cycled on, gently stirring the curtains and mixing the artificial cool with the natural scents that somehow still infiltrated the house—distant waves and the distinctive heaviness of imminent rain. The weather service warnings from yesterday had escalated overnight, with Hurricane Benedict now upgraded to category one and predicted to make landfall within forty-eight hours. Another community meeting was scheduled for noon, and Luke would expect her there, ready to coordinate the bar’s transformation into a shelter.

The thought of Luke brought a flush of heat to her cheeks. The kiss had awakened something she’d tried to bury for fifteen years—not just desire, but a bone-deep yearning for connection that terrified her more than any storm.

Her phone chimed with an email notification, mercifully interrupting her spiral of thought. She reached for it, grateful for the distraction, then froze as she read the subject line:Final Probate Resolution: Estate of Jesse James.

Her father’s lawyer had been methodically working through the estate since her arrival, but she’d paid minimal attention, focusing instead on learning the bar operations. She’d assumed her father’s half of Seeker’s Paradise was the extent of her inheritance—a business stake she hadn’t asked for and wasn’t certain she wanted to keep.

But as she scanned the email, a detail jumped out that made her stomach clench:The property at End Point has been transferred to your name, as specified in the will.

The house. Her childhood home. The place she’d sworn never to set foot in again.

She sat up abruptly, heart hammering against her ribs. Why would he leave her that house? Was it meant as a final apology or one last twisted joke? The thought of owning those walls that had contained so much pain made her physically ill.

The email continued with practical considerations:With Hurricane Benedict approaching, you may wish to secure the property. While insurance is current, storm damage would still require deductible payment and significant paperwork. The structure has been vacant since your father’s passing and may contain personal effects you wish to retrieve before the storm.

Bile rose in her throat. Personal effects. As if anything in that house could hold value for her.

Jessie flung back the covers and slipped into a linen sundress the color of shells on the beach, her movements mechanical as her mind raced. The property deed required her signature, but more pressing was the realization that the hurricane would hit soon. Leaving the house unsecured wasn’t an option, regardless of her feelings. The last thing she needed was neighbors’ complaints about preventable storm damage.

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