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Her blush is brighter than the lighthouse. I squeeze her hand gently.
Is there hope? Could I win her over?
It’s less of a ghost town once we hit the beach. Dog walkers nod from the coast path, stopping every few steps to let their pets sniff, and surfers cut through the waves, their wet suits dark against their boards. Joggers have churned up trails through the sand.
The salt breeze is fresh, stinging our cheeks, and as we walk, my chest loosens. I’m relaxed here. This town is good for me.
Though I hid it well, I was a nervous kid growing up, always inwardly fretting about grades and summer camp and the will-they-won’t-they dance of my parents splitting up. Then as a teenager, I was still wound tight, but I shoved those nerves even deeper down inside, smiling and laughing in the school corridors like nothing was wrong.
I stillfeltit, though. The stress. The pressure. The fear that if I didn’t do something huge, didn’t make something special of myself, Alba would slip through my fingers as easily as my once-happy family.
Now I’ve played gigs on six continents. I’ve sold out world tours, and there’s a glass case of industry awards in my new home studio. I went out into the world, and I made something of myself for this girl.
Doesn’t mean shit, though, if she’s truly moved on. I’ve gone about this all wrong. Took my eyes off therealprize.
“Dalton? You okay?”
Jolting back to myself, I quit scowling at every lump of seaweed. Alba’s watching me, brown eyes soft with concern. “Yeah, I’m good,” I say, rushing to fill the weird silence I left hanging. “Wait ‘til you see this waterfall. You’ll never want to leave.”
We walk on, those constant sharp nerves jangling through my insides, cutting me.
Nothing new about that—but I shove those feelings down even deeper.
Not now.Jesus Christ.
I need to focus. The stakes have never been higher.
* * *
“Holy crap on a cracker.” Alba’s eyes are like saucers, her head tipped back to take in the sight before us. We’re in a secret cave in the sea cliffs, the bright morning sunshine spilling through a break in the rocks overhead. Water gushes from a hole high in the rock face in front of us and thunders into the plunge pool below.
The water is crystal clear, sparkling in the sunshine. Around the edges of the cave, stalagmites and stalactites reach for each other, parted for millennia. The air smells like cool, wet stone.
“What do you think?” I’m grinning, practically bouncing on my heels. It’s impossible to not love this place. You’d have to be dead inside, and Alba has always been a sucker for natural beauty.
“It’s…” She trails off and peers around. Shakes her head and puffs out a breath. “Dalton. It’s…”
Yeah, it really is. Words don’t feel like enough somehow, because this place is unearthly. Like an ancient cathedral hidden in nature.
“We can swim if you like. This is the super secret local spot.”
Alba’s smile is weak, but she tugs at the halterneck tie of her sundress. “You really have integrated.”
“Oh, yeah. When I get breakfast in the diner, the wait staff all know me by name. They ask if I want my usual.”
She chuckles. “That’s the dream.”
We used to joke about that, way back when. The dream of leaving our lifeless suburb after graduation—not for the bustling anonymity of a big city, but for a cozy small town where the librarians set books aside that they think we’d like.
Why else come to Sweet Cherry Cove in the first place? It’s not like they try to coax in tourists. But I’ve been auditioning small towns, searching for the spot I thought Alba would like best.
“Wow,” Alba says softly, gazing at the waterfall again. Lost in the majesty of it.
Yeah. This place is the jackpot.
As soon as she tugs her dress tie loose, I pull my gray t-shirt over my head and drop it on a nearby rock. My belt buckle clinks, and I pause, weighing the boxers situation.
They’re black, so they won’t go see-through, but skinny dipping would keep them dry. I wait to follow Alba’s lead.
