Page 51 of When Summer Returns

“Eye should pass over us around midnight,” Reece confirmed after checking the weather radio. “We’ll get maybe thirty minutes of relative calm before the back side hits.”

“Just enough time to check for major structural damage and secure anything that’s come loose,” Luke nodded, already planning. “But we’ll need spotters to make sure everyone stays inside during the eye. People always want to come out and look.”

“I’ve got the front door,” Reece volunteered. “Maggie can handle the west entrance if she stays off that leg.”

“East side’s mine,” Miguel said. “Carlos can take the kitchen exit.”

“I’ll coordinate from the center,” Luke decided. “Keep communications flowing between teams.”

Jessie found herself oddly energized despite the late hour and physical exertion. The combination of adrenaline, purpose, and genuine contribution left her more alert than she’d felt in years of boardroom negotiations. This was real, immediate, with consequences that mattered beyond quarterly profits or shareholder value.

As if sensing her thoughts, Luke caught her eye across the room. “You okay?”

“Better than okay,” she surprised herself by answering truthfully. “I feel useful.”

His smile held understanding beyond words. “Welcome back to island life, Jess.”

The generator lights flickered once more, then stabilized as the building groaned around them, adjusting to the storm’s shifting pressure. Outside, Benedict continued its relentless circuit, winds gradually diminishing as the eye approached. But inside, something new had taken root amid the emergency supplies and huddled islanders—a connection deeper than shared crisis, stronger than childhood memories.

As Jessie moved among the shelter residents, checking on children and elderly, distributing water and reassurance in equal measure, she caught Luke watching her from across the room. His expression held something she hadn’t seen directed her way in fifteen years—not just attraction or affection, but pride. Pride in her capability, her resilience, her seamless integration into the island’s crisis response.

When their eyes met over the heads of worried islanders, a current passed between them that had nothing to do with the generator’s electrical output. Something was building between them, as inevitable and powerful as the hurricane itself. And like the island around them, they would weather whatever came next—not by outrunning the storm, but by facing it together.

The eye was coming, with its temporary peace and false security. And after that, the back side of the hurricane, often more dangerous than the approach. But for now, in this moment of anticipation and preparation, Jessie felt strangely, perfectly at home amid the chaos.

Some storms, it seemed, were worth standing still for.

CHAPTERELEVEN

Benedict had comeand gone like an unwelcome relative—making a mess, breaking things, and leaving others to clean up after it. The morning after the hurricane revealed an island transformed, as if someone had picked up Seeker’s Island, shaken it vigorously, and set it back down in disarray.

Jessie stood on Luke’s porch at dawn, coffee mug warming her hands as she surveyed the changed landscape. Palm trees leaned at drunken angles, debris scattered across normally pristine beaches, and the distant sound of chainsaws already buzzed as islanders tackled fallen trees. But beneath the destruction lay that essential island resilience—the knowledge that this, too, would pass.

“Quite a view,” Luke said, stepping out to join her. His hair was still damp from the shower, his T-shirt clinging slightly to moisture on his shoulders. The small cut on his temple had already begun to heal, a reminder of last night’s adventures.

“I’d forgotten how quickly everyone mobilizes after a storm,” she observed, making room for him at the railing. “Mainlanders would still be in shock, but look—” She gestured toward three boats already out in the cove, islanders checking crab traps and assessing damage to the small marina. “It’s like the storm’s just another inconvenience.”

“That’s island life.” He sipped from his own mug, close enough that their elbows touched. “Nature throws a tantrum, we clean up the toys, life goes on.”

The simple contact sent warmth spiraling through her that had nothing to do with the coffee. Last night’s shelter duty had left them both exhausted, falling into separate beds with barely enough energy to kick off shoes. But the connection that had sparked in the storeroom remained, a low-grade electrical current humming between them.

“Reece called,” Luke continued. “The causeway to the mainland is still underwater, but the ferry dock survived. They’re sending assessment crews as soon as the water recedes.”

“Casualties?”

“None reported. A few injuries, nothing Maggie couldn’t handle. The clinic’s roof will need complete replacement, but the structure’s sound.”

Jessie nodded, relief mingling with something like pride. Her island—and yes, she was starting to think of it that way again—had weathered Benedict’s rage with typical stubborn grace.

“What’s the plan?” she asked, already knowing there would be one. Luke Mallory didn’t wake up without a strategy, especially not after a hurricane.

“Seeker’s Paradise becomes command central,” he said, that familiar focus settling over his features. “We’ve got the generator, the space, and the supplies. Tasha’s coordinating food for work crews, Miguel’s handling debris clearance teams, and Reece is managing safety assessments.”

“And us?”

He glanced at her, surprise flickering before a smile tugged at his mouth. “Us, huh?”

“I’m part owner, remember? Besides, I’ve got two functioning hands and a decent back.”

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