Page 55 of When Summer Returns

“I should shower,” she said, feeling unexpectedly shy.

“Probably,” he agreed, eyes twinkling. “Though I’m pretty fond of hurricane-chic Jessie. She’s got a certain windblown appeal.”

“Windblown is generous. I look like I’ve been dragged behind a boat.”

“Even soaking wet and covered in island debris, you’re still the best thing I’ve seen all day,” he said, stepping closer. “But go ahead. Food will keep warm.”

The simple domesticity of the moment—him preparing dinner while she showered, the assumption of shared space and time—sent a flutter through her chest that had nothing to do with physical attraction and everything to do with deeper yearnings she’d denied for too long.

Thirty minutes later, freshly showered and changed into a simple sundress, Jessie returned to the porch to find Luke arranging food on the small table.

“Something smells amazing,” she said, inhaling deeply.

“Mateo sent dinner with strict instructions not to claim any credit for his artistry.” Luke held her chair with old-fashioned courtesy. “Apparently we’ve earned a brief reprieve from disaster meals.”

The table held a feast simple enough for exhausted appetites but decidedly more elegant than hurricane rations—grilled fish with mango salsa, island rice, fresh bread still warm from wrapping, and a bottle of white wine beaded with condensation.

“I thought the generator was just for essentials,” Jessie teased, gesturing toward the fairy lights.

“Miguel rigged these up with a battery pack. Said something about bosses deserving a little normal after saving the island.” He settled across from her, the small table bringing them close enough that their knees occasionally brushed. “I think it was his way of playing matchmaker.”

“Subtle, he’s not.” She sampled the fish, closing her eyes briefly at the burst of flavor. After a day of energy bars and hasty sandwiches, the meal tasted like pure luxury.

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes, the day’s exertions catching up now that they’d finally stopped moving. The only sounds were the gentle crash of waves below and the soft music blending with night insects beginning their evening chorus.

“We make a good team,” Luke said finally, refilling their glasses. “You and me.”

“We always did,” she replied. “Even before.”

“Even before,” he agreed. His free hand found hers across the table, fingers interlacing with the naturalness of long habit. “But this is different, isn’t it?”

She knew what he meant. As teenagers, they’d functioned almost as a single organism, perfectly attuned to each other’s thoughts and movements. That connection had remained, muscle memory persisting through fifteen years apart. But what had developed during the hurricane preparations was something new—a partnership of equals, each bringing distinct strengths that complemented the other.

“It’s better,” she said, meeting his gaze directly. “We’re not kids anymore, Luke.”

“No,” he agreed, thumb tracing idle patterns across her knuckles. “We’re not.”

The simple touch sent sparks dancing along her nerves, her body responding to his with the same eager recognition it always had. But beneath the physical attraction lay something deeper—a foundation of shared experience and newly forged respect.

“I’ve spent fifteen years angry,” he continued, his voice dropping lower. “Thinking you left because what we had wasn’t enough. That I wasn’t enough.”

“Luke—”

“Let me finish,” he said gently. “When you told me about your father, about the threats, everything shifted. Not just understanding why you left, but seeing who you really were all along—this incredibly brave, fiercely protective woman who sacrificed everything to keep someone else safe.” His fingers tightened around hers. “I’m not angry anymore, Jess. I’m in awe of you.”

The words hit her with physical force, tears springing to eyes she’d sworn wouldn’t shed any more over the past. She’d spent so long believing her flight had been an act of cowardice, a failure to stand and fight. Hearing Luke reframe it as courage shook something fundamental in her self-perception.

“I was so scared,” she admitted, the confession easier now in the gentle darkness. “Not just of him, but of losing you. And then I did lose you anyway, just in a different way.”

“You never lost me.” His voice roughened. “Not really. Even when I thought I hated you, I was still yours. I tried to move on—God knows I tried—but nobody else was ever you.”

The admission hung between them, profound in its simplicity. No grand declarations, just the plain truth of a heart that had never quite healed because it had never stopped loving.

“Coming back was the hardest thing I’ve ever done,” Jessie said, her own truth rising to meet his. “And the most necessary.” Her free hand reached across to touch his face, tracing the lines time had etched around his eyes. “I spent fifteen years running away, thinking distance meant safety. But I wasn’t living, Luke. I was just existing.”

Her fingertips skimmed the stubble along his jaw, relearning the geography of his face. “Being here, working alongside you during the hurricane, helping the island recover—I’ve felt more alive in the past two weeks than in fifteen years of corporate success.”

Luke turned his head slightly, pressing a kiss into her palm that sent heat spiraling through her core. “Stay,” he said, the single word containing volumes. Not a demand but an invitation—to the island, to the life they might build, to the love still burning beneath years of misunderstanding.

---