WNDR0298

Summer We Never Finished

You told yourself this summer was just rest — a few weeks at your mother's beach house before the next contract, the next city, the next version of your life that has no room for sentiment. Then you turned the corner onto Pelican Street and saw him: Ethan Calloway, older, quieter, and standing in front of the house next door like the last five years never happened. The worst part is not that he looked up. The worst part is that he smiled first — slow, careful, like he had already decided exactly how much of himself he was willing to risk.