Tech has been letting his assistant manager title go to his head.
The Chasers vs. the Collective rivalry is all but snuffed out. It’s hard to claim the moral high ground when your leader was an actual murdering psychopath. Now we’re all just Cape Hope townies—but, we still use our nickname once in a while.
“It’s my day off,” Jamie says with a grin, his words barely leaving his lips before he pulls me in for another kiss. His lips are warm, and for a moment, the world fades away—just the salty air and the rhythm of the ocean in the distance. When he finally lets me go, I blink up at him adoringly.
His eyes sweep over me. “You’re just too pretty,” he murmurs, almost apologetically. He backs away slowly, looking miserable to have to leave my side, but it’s the kind of misery that doesn’t seem all that bad.
As he heads over to the counter to talk to Tech, they slap hands, laughing about something with the boat. I can’t hear the joke, but it’s clear they’re close. Not that we steal any more boats. We’re totally reformed. In fact, the Surf Shack is actually turning a profit these days. It’s kind of a miracle.
I glance around, spotting a bag of trash that someone left behind near the dock. I grab it, my fingers brushing the sun-warmed plastic,and start heading toward the dumpster. We’ve been busier than usual lately, but I can’t say I mind. One of the boats moored out front actually belongs to Hailey, who is now estranged from her family and dating one of the resort valets. She’s not exactly chill, but we let her come to Bonfire Beach once in a while.
And even Matteo, who never did have to testify against his father, stops by once in a while with his girlfriend. He seems happy—more confident, but in real way. He’s no longer the asshole from the resort. Now he’s a friend.
I toss the bag of trash away, and when I come back toward the counter, Ellis is walking outside, dragging his fingers through his messy hair. He looks bored out of his mind, his shoulders slumped, his eyes half closed.
“Is there some event happening today at the resort?” he asks, his voice flat. “I’ve gotten about a hundred calls for surf lessons and two charters. A bit much.”
Before I can answer, Shawn appears, breezing in as she sucks down an energy drink. She slides in next to Ellis, giving him a playful shove that makes him laugh and shift over to make room for her.
“Yeah, about that,” Shawn says, her gaze sweeping over all of us before she continues. “Jordan told me they appointed a new board member this morning, and they’re throwing a whole coronation, like she’s some kind of queen.”
“What?” I laugh, shaking my head. “I didn’t hear anything about a new board member. Not that I’m invested in resort politics, but what’s the big deal? Who is she?”
“That’s the thing,” Shawn says. “No one has met her yet. And she’s notjusta new board member either. Apparently she bought out Alessandro’s half of the resort. People are stressing.”
“Why?” I ask, genuinely curious.
“Because she’s an outsider,” Shawn points out. “She’s not from here—she doesn’t know anything about the history of Cape Hope. Word is, she’s already talking about expansion. It’s not going to get approved, obviously. Not after what we went through last summer.”
We turn our attention to the Augustus Resort, still a yellow monstrosity at the top of the hill. It’s a looming reminder of everything we don’t want to be. But for now, the Grand Augustus Resort is just another empty shell of ambition—an updated version of the Starline Hotel.
While there will always be people trying to own a piece of our beach, together we have finally carved out our own paradise here on the coast. And we’ll hold on to that for as long as we can.
Chasing the sun, chasing our dreams.
THE STARLINE HOTEL
The marsh watches quietly, as it always does, wrapped in its timeless stillness. The air thickens with the smell of shifting mud. The old hotel, with its faded grandeur, stands like a ghost in the distance. But the marsh knows its secrets, buried deep beneath the overgrowth and rotting walls. It has witnessed them all. It watches the visitors, too, their footsteps careless as they trample over the leaves, unaware of the history they crush under their steps.
And then there is her. The woman. She appears, like so many before her, walking through the damp underbrush, her eyes on the hotel with a glint of something familiar. The marsh stirs, its silent breath quickening as she speaks.
“I would like to buy it,” she says, her voice soft, but certain, as she gazes up at the crumbling structure. There is something in her gaze—the way it lingers on the rotting facade, the way her lips curl into a smile that seems too knowing for someone just seeing it for the first time.
The marsh feels it, the pull, the connection. A memory, buried deep, stirs like a current beneath the stagnant waters. She is no stranger here. The marsh knows her. Her footsteps, even now, seem to echo with a haunting familiarity.
The man beside her laughs, shaking his head, but she does not look away from the hotel. Instead, she raises her chin, as if daring the crumbling walls to resist her. “It’s mine,” she murmurs to herself, barely audible, though the marsh hears it. It is happy to welcome her home.
The hotel may be crumbling, but the marsh, with its endless patience, knows that some things never truly fade. Some things are never really lost. And the woman, with her quiet resolve, will be the one to uncover the final secret left behind.
THE END
