Page 67 of When Summer Returns

“Is that a marriage proposal?” he asked, his voice light but his eyes dead serious.

“If I say yes, are you going to panic and swim for shore?” She kept her tone casual, though her heart hammered against her ribs.

“Fifteen years ago, I might have.” His fingers traced a path from her shoulder to her wrist underwater, leaving heat in their wake. “Now I’m thinking it’s exactly right.”

“So that’s a yes?”

“That’s an absolute yes.” His grin broke through, the real one that transformed his entire face. “Though I should warn you—island life comes with hurricanes included.”

“I think I’ve proven I can handle a storm or two,” she replied, her smile matching his.

When they finally broke apart, both slightly breathless, Luke rested his forehead against hers. “I should have chased after you,” he said, regret coloring his voice. “All those years ago. Should have known something was wrong, should have found you?—”

“Shh.” She pressed her fingers gently against his lips. “We can’t rewrite the past. We can only decide what happens next.”

“And what happens next, Jessie James?” The question vibrated with all the possibilities that stretched before them.

Instead of answering with words, she took his hand and led him deeper into the spring, past the shallows toward the center where hot and cold waters merged. Understanding dawned in his eyes as they waded shoulder deep into the basin.

“I thought you already made your wish,” he said, following her willingly.

“I did,” she confirmed. “But there’s one I think we should make together.”

They stood at the point where the waters met, that magical boundary that was in defiance of natural law. With synchronized movements born of years of knowing each other’s rhythms, they turned to face one another in the water, hands clasped between them.

“Do you remember how this works?” she asked.

“According to my grandmother, we need to be specific,” Luke replied, the glint in his eyes suggesting his memories aligned perfectly with hers. “But also remember that the spring gives what we need, not necessarily what we ask for.”

“What do we need, then?” Jessie felt the currents swirling around them, warm against her back, cool against her chest, a physical manifestation of the crossroads she’d been navigating. “Beyond what we already have in this moment?”

Luke studied her face with an intensity that made her breath catch. “I need you,” he said simply. “Today, tomorrow, through hurricane season and tourist season and every season in between. I need your laugh when Miguel makes ridiculous cocktails, and your practicality when the generator fails, and your determination when permits get delayed.”

His hands tightened around hers beneath the water. “I need to build a life with you that has nothing to do with your father’s will or the bar’s ownership and everything to do with the fact that I’ve loved you since we were kids with skinned knees and big dreams.”

Tears pricked at Jessie’s eyes, not of sadness but of something far more powerful—recognition, belonging, certainty. “I need you too,” she whispered. “More than partnership tracks or corner offices or mainland success. I need your steadiness when the world spins too fast, and your strength when mine falters, and your belief in me when I’ve forgotten how to believe in myself.”

She closed her eyes briefly, feeling the spring’s ancient magic surrounding them. “I need to come home to you every day for the rest of my life.”

The water seemed to surge around them, a gentle yet unmistakable acknowledgment of vows spoken at the convergence point. When Jessie opened her eyes again, she found Luke watching her with a mixture of wonder and absolute certainty.

“Well,” he said, his voice slightly rough with emotion, “that sounds like the spring has its work cut out for it.”

“Do you think it’s listening?” she asked, only half joking.

In answer, Luke pulled her closer, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that contained promises neither needed to voice aloud. The spring cradled them in its ancient embrace, hot and cold waters swirling around their entwined forms, bearing witness to desires revealed and claimed.

When they finally broke apart, Luke’s eyes held hers with unwavering certainty. “I think,” he said, “it’s been listening all along. Just waiting for us to figure out what we really wanted.”

“And now that we have?” She smiled up at him, already knowing the answer but needing to hear it anyway.

“Now we build that life. Together.” His thumb traced the curve of her cheek, gentle as island breezes. “Starting with getting the bar back on its feet after Benedict. Then maybe tackling that house of your father’s—tearing it down, building something new on the land. Something that’s ours, not his.”

“Washing away the past,” she agreed. “Creating something better in its place.”

“And what then?” His voice held a playfulness she remembered from their youth, a quality that had been missing when she’d first returned to the island. “What next for us?”

“After that,” she said, her arms looping around his neck, “we let the island decide. Hurricanes and tourists and quiet winter months when the ferries run half empty. All of it, Luke. I want all of it.”

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