Page 7 of When Summer Returns

“Coffee?” he offered, sliding a steaming mug toward her.

“Thank you.” She wrapped her hands around the warmth, inhaling the rich aroma. Island coffee was nothing like the precisely calibrated brew she’d grown accustomed to in Savannah—this was stronger, bolder, unapologetic in its intensity.

“Hope you still like omelets,” Luke said, sliding a plate in front of her. The eggs were perfectly cooked, folded around sautéed peppers, onions, and what looked like fresh crabmeat. Toast points were arrayed alongside with a small dish of what appeared to be homemade jam.

“This looks amazing,” she said with genuine appreciation. “I had no idea you could cook.”

A faint smile touched his lips. “A lot can change in fifteen years.”

The simple statement hung between them, weighted with unspoken questions.

“So I’m learning.” She took a bite of the omelet and nearly moaned at the explosion of flavors. “This is delicious.”

“It’s nothing fancy,” he shrugged, taking the stool beside her rather than across the island. The proximity sent a tendril of awareness curling through her stomach.

“The bar serves food now?” she asked, desperate for neutral conversation.

“Full menu, lunch and dinner. We’re the only proper restaurant on the island now. When tourism picked up, we expanded beyond just drinks. Keeps the visitors happy and the locals employed.”

“That’s impressive.” She meant it sincerely.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” he said, but his tone lacked the earlier edge. “Running a successful business requires adaptation. The island’s changed a lot since you left.”

“And you changed with it,” she observed.

Luke shrugged, focusing on his food. “Had to. The alternative wasn’t particularly appealing.”

Something in his voice raised questions she wasn’t ready to ask. Instead, she gestured toward his T-shirt she now wore. “Coast Guard?”

“Two years, right after—” He stopped abruptly, then continued. “After I finished school. Wanted something different for a while.”

The omission hung between them.After you left.She could hear the words as clearly as if he’d spoken them.

“I never pictured you in uniform,” she said lightly, trying to dispel the sudden tension.

“I look terrible in hats,” he replied with an unexpected flash of humor that transformed his face.

The smile caught her off guard, transporting her back to sun-drenched summers and midnight swims, to whispered promises and the sweet discovery of first love. Before everything shattered.

Luke must have seen something in her expression because his smile faded. He cleared his throat and stood, taking his half-empty plate to the sink.

“I need to get back to the bar,” he said, his back to her. “The delivery driver is supposed to bring fresh fish this morning, if he can make it through the storm. I need to be there.”

Jessie nodded, though he couldn’t see it. “Of course.”

“The worst of the storm should pass in a couple of hours, though they’re calling for rain all day.” He rinsed his plate methodically. “I’ll get your suitcase to you once the rain lightens up.”

“I appreciate that.” The formal politeness between them felt wrong, like ill-fitting clothes.

“Make yourself at home,” he said, finally turning to face her. “There’s food in the fridge if you get hungry later. Books on the shelves. TV remote’s on the coffee table.”

“I’ll be fine,” she assured him, hating how awkward they’d become. Two people who’d once known each other’s bodies as intimately as their own, now reduced to the stilted courtesy of strangers.

Luke grabbed a light rain jacket from a hook by the door. “I’ll see you later, then.”

And just like that, he was gone, leaving Jessie alone in the beautiful house that revealed so much about the man he’d become while telling her nothing about how he’d gotten there.

She finished her breakfast in solitude, the only sounds the persistent drum of rain on the roof and the distant crash of waves against the shore. Despite the storm-darkened sky, the house remained surprisingly bright thanks to the expansive windows. She wandered through the space, coffee mug in hand, absorbing details she’d missed earlier.

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