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CHAPTER ONE
Tanner
The wheels of the bus groan to a stop, and I'm stepping onto the sun-baked pavement of my old stomping grounds. Damn, it's been ages. My boots kick up a small cloud of dust on the familiar sidewalk leading into town, every step stirring the butterflies in my gut. Excitement pulses through me like a live wire—I'm back, baby.
"God, I've missed this place," I mutter to myself, squinting against the glare of the midday sun. The scent of fresh-cut grass and home-cooked meals wafting from open windows is a stark contrast to the sterile sea air I've been marinating in for far too long.
I don't even bother with a detour. Straight to Jake's place—it's like my feet know the way by heart. They carry me past Main Street, where laughter and local gossip weave through the air like music. But I'm all about that bass line of anticipation humming in my veins. This reunion's gonna be epic.
Jake's house comes into view, looking just like I remember—porch swing swaying lazily, the screen door a little crooked. I bound up the steps two at a time, adrenaline replacing the travel fatigue that's been clinging to my shoulders.
"Surprise, motherfucker!" I shout as I hammer my fist against the door, the sound echoing in the quiet neighborhood. A dog barks somewhere in the distance, but all I can focus on is the thumping of my own heart. Feels like it's ready to bust out of my chest and do a jig right there on the porch.
When the door swings open, I'm hit with the sight of Jake's shit-eating grin, and man, does it feel good to be home.
"Bro!" Jake's voice is a booming welcome as he lunges forward, his arms wrapping around me like I'm the last life preserver in a shipwreck. He's all warmth and muscle and that familiar scent of sawdust and aftershave. "You're finally back, man. Damn, I've missed you."
"Missed you too, Jake," I chuckle, patting his back with a solid thud. We break apart and I can't help but feel this sense of rightness slotting into place. Home isn't just a place—it's this, the bear hugs and unspoken bonds.
"Look at you, all Navy SEAL'd out." He punches my shoulder playfully, sizing me up with a proud smirk. "You've got stories for days, I bet."
"More than you can handle," I shoot back, the banter as easy as breathing.
And then she walks in—Molly. Holy hell.
"Hey, Tanner," she says, her voice smooth as honey, and something inside me shifts uncomfortably. It’s like someone cranked the thermostat way up. Her smile is a thousand watts bright, and it's doing funny things to my insides. Funny, dangerous things.
"Hey, Molly." My reply comes out half-strangled because damn, when did little Molly become a vision of jeans hugging curves in all the right places? Her brown hair cascades over her shoulders like a dark waterfall, and those eyes—like warm chocolate—are full of life, dancing with something that looks a lot like mischief.
"Welcome home," she adds, and the simple words feel like an invitation to something I'm pretty sure I should decline. But hell if I don't want to RSVP 'yes' on the spot.
"Thanks," I manage, hoping my voice doesn't betray the sudden kickstart of my pulse. Because this is Jake’s sister. Off-limits territory. And yet, here I am, already crossing lines in my head.
"Damn, you've grown up," I blurt out before I can stop myself. The words hang awkwardly between us, but it's the truth—Molly stands there, not at all the gawky teenager I waved goodbye to years ago.
Jake laughs, clapping a hand on my shoulder, breaking the tension. "Tanner, meet my sister again. Molly, this is Tanner. But you remember him, right?"
"Of course," she replies with a laugh that tinkles in the air, and we shake hands. Her grip is firm, confident, and I swear I feel a jolt zing up my arm. It’s like touching a live wire—a really pretty live wire.
"Nice to see you again, Tanner," she says, looking up at me through those lashes. Jesus, her eyes should come with a warning label.
"Likewise," I say, and it's an understatement. My heart's doing double time in my chest, and I'm trying real hard not to let my gaze wander down the curve of her neck. Keep it together, man.
"Been a while since Jake had any friends over," Molly teases, and I catch a spark of fun in her eyes. She's enjoying this, the back-and-forth, and I can't help but join in.
"Maybe he's been scaring them off," I suggest, aiming for light, playful. Inside, my stomach does a slow roll because, damn, the way she smiles should be illegal.
"Or maybe they just couldn't handle my raw charisma," Jake counters, and we all chuckle, the sound rich and easy.
"Raw something," Molly mumbles under her breath, and I stifle a laugh. This girl, she's got wit sharp as a tack.
"Careful, sis," Jake warns, but his tone is fond, "Remember who's side you're on."
"Always yours," she shoots back, but her eyes linger on me, and I feel like we're sharing some kind of secret joke.
My brain tells me to step back, but every other damn part of me wants to lean in. To what? I have no clue. But the pull is there, magnetic and undeniable. And if I'm being honest with myself, which I try to avoid whenever possible, it's freaking intoxicating.
“Well, don’t just stand there. Come on in.” Jake motions me to his living room.
