There she is, in a business profile photo. Tailored suit. Same hair, though the sun has taken its toll. The years have etched themselves more deeply into her face than into mine.
She looks weathered.
Still beautiful.
She’s selling IT security software now. Corporate. Polished. Professional.
Still single, from what I can tell.
Something tightens in my chest.
Sad for her.
Sad for us.
Sad for what might have been if we could only control our tempers and ourselves.
I close the browser before the ache can hollow me out.
Outside, the music starts up again. Another cover song drifting through the warm night air.
I slip my phone away, take one last look at the dark water, and go inside.
Hayden stirs in her sleep when I take her hand, curls warm against her cheek.
Some summers never leave you.
They just learn how to hurt quieter.
And still, even after everything, the night smells like salt and possibility.
EPILOGUE
BETH
When his namepopped up on my screen, I stared at it longer than I should have.
I’d known this might happen. You don’t go digging through the past without disturbing something. Still, my heart kicked up like it didn’t recognize the years that had passed.
Twenty-some years.
That’s how long it had been since I’d heard his voice.
I typedHiand erased it.
TypedIt’s good to hear from youand erased that too.
Finally, I just wrote,Hey, Ethan.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
We moved to Messenger first, like cowards. Safer. Distance built in. Then phone numbers—exchanged almost shyly, like teenagers again—and suddenly my phone was ringing.
I didn’t answer right away.
When I did, his voice was older. Deeper. Still him.
“Beth,” he said. Like my name meant something important.
