Wildfire
Herbreathhitchedasshe took him in—the worn Henley that stretched across his broad shoulders, the way his jeans clung to his hips, the hint of scruff along his jaw. He looked effortlessly good, but it was his eyes that got her.
Dark and knowing.
Like he had been waiting for this moment.
Waiting for her.
His lips twitched into a smirk as she approached, that familiar cocky confidence threading into his voice.
"Took you long enough. You're late, Monroe."
Savannah arched a brow. "Excuse me? You're lucky I am here at all." She teased.
Chase pushed off the truck, stepping into her space, so close she could feel the heat of him. "I’ve been waiting for you since the day you left, Savannah. Another ten minutes wouldn’t have made a difference."
Her stomach flipped.
He reached for her hand, threading his fingers through hers, his grip firm, steady.
"Let’s go," he murmured.
And just like that, Savannah knew.
She wasn’t just walking into another morning.
She was walking straight into him.
Into them.
And she wasn’t turning back.
They drove with the windows down, the summer air thick with salt and warmth, rolling over their skin like a lover’s touch. Savannah let her hand drift outside the window, her fingers slicing through the golden morning light, the breeze carrying the scent of ocean spray and wild jasmine.
Chase sat beside her, one hand on the wheel, the other resting casually on the gearshift, his thumb tapping to a rhythm she couldn’t hear. His profile was sharp in the early light—the strong cut of his jaw, the way the corners of his lips hinted at a smirk, like he knew something she didn’t. Maybe he did. Maybe he had known all along that no matter how many miles or years stretched between them, she would always find her way back to him.
She stole glances when she thought he wasn’t looking, but Chase had always been good at reading her.
“I can feel you staring,” he murmured, not taking his eyes off the road.
Savannah smirked, shifting in her seat. “And if I am?”
His lips twitched. “Then I’ll take that as a good sign.”
She shook her head, but her heart was already slamming against her ribs.
The town was slowly waking up around them—surfers catching the early morning swell, joggers tracing the boardwalk, shopkeepers unlocking their doors. The sounds of life were everywhere, but Chase had something else in mind.
She noticed when he took a turn off the main road, veering away from the bustle of the beach, down a narrow road lined with towering oaks draped in Spanish moss. The further they drove, the quieter it became, the air growing heavier with the scent of pine and salt, the distant hum of waves softening into something even more peaceful.
“Where are we going?” she asked, her fingers trailing against the seam of her seat.
“You’ll see,” Chase said, casting her a knowing glance before turning down a dirt path.
A few minutes later, he rolled to a stop, and Savannah’s breath hitched.
They were at a secluded inlet, the kind of place only locals knew. The waterstretched out in perfect, glassy blue-green, reflecting the morning sun like a sheet of silk. The sand was untouched, pristine, as if waiting for them to leave the first footprints of the day. Gentle waves lapped against the shore, whispering secrets only the sea could hold.
