The Keys. Sunshine and turquoise water. Days alone with the man I love.
Whatever's waiting there—whatever surprise he has planned—I'm ready for it.
24
AVERY
Somewhere over Georgia, Ifall asleep on his shoulder.
I don't mean to. One moment I'm watching clouds drift past the window, Nick's hand resting on my knee with that steady presence that saysI'm here, and the next I'm sinking, pulled under by the hum of engines and the rare, precious quiet of being completely alone with him. No Kelsey or Vaughn maintaining their polite distance. No cameras waiting to catch us in an unguarded moment. No one needing anything from either of us except the pilot, and he's got his own job to handle.
Just us. Just this.
When I wake, we're descending. Nick's hand is still on my knee. His thumb moves in slow, idle circles against the inside of my leg, tracing the same path over and over like he's been anchoring himself to me the whole time I slept.
"Hey." His voice is low, intimate in the quiet cabin. "We're almost there."
I straighten, blinking away the last threads of sleep, and lean toward the window. Below us, the Keys stretch out in their impossible chain of green and turquoise, mangroves tangledalong the shoreline, shallow water catching the early afternoon sun. I've seen this view before, but it still does something to my chest. This place carved its name into Nick when he was young, left scars and memories he's spent years trying to reshape into something good. Somewhere along the way, it started meaning something to me too.
The jet touches down smooth and easy on the single runway at Key Largo Airport, taxiing past the small operations building toward a private hangar at the far end of the tarmac. Through the window, I spot a tall, lean figure leaning against a dusty Jeep.
Rusty Tolliver. He’s exactly as I pictured him from Nick's descriptions alone—the sun-bleached ginger hair, the lean build, the easy confidence of someone who, like Nick, grew up on and around boats. Nick has talked about his childhood friend with a warmth he reserves for very few people. We've never met in person, but I feel like I know him already.
The moment the jet door opens, the Keys hits me. Heat. Humidity. The air thick and soft against my skin, carrying salt and the tropical fragrance of frangipani, hibiscus, the sweet green scent of growing things. The impossibly blue sky stretches overhead, the sun brilliant and warm, soaking into my bones as I carefully step down the stairs to the tarmac.
My shoulders relax. My breath deepens. Something in my chest that's been clenched for weeks finally, finally unclenches.
Nick's hand finds the small of my back as we cross the tarmac, and then Rusty is pushing off from the Jeep, closing the distance with an unhurried stride.
"There he is." Rusty's grin is wide and genuine. "The prodigal son returns."
"Someone has to check up on you." Nick's hand leaves my back long enough for a handshake that turns into a brief embrace. "Make sure you haven't run the place into the ground."
"Please. The place runs itself. I just stand around looking pretty." Rusty turns to me then, and his expression softens into something warmer. "And you must be Avery. I've heard so much about you, I feel like I already know you."
"Same." I take the hand he offers, and he clasps it between both of his. He’s friendly, welcoming, and I like him instantly. "Nick talks about you all the time."
"Only the good parts, I hope." He winks, then gestures toward the Jeep. "Come on. Let's get you two out of the sun."
Nick's hand finds the small of my back as Rusty loads our bags. "How's enrollment looking?"
"Better than expected. We've got twelve kids signed up for fall sessions, and I've had three more families reach out this week." Rusty slams the tailgate shut. "Your contractor guy did solid work. The new boat shed looks great."
Nick assists me into the passenger seat, then he climbs into the cramped seat in back. He and Rusty talk business during the short drive while I watch the landscape slide past. Palm trees and scrub brush. Small houses weathered by salt and sun. The occasional glimpse of water through the vegetation, that stunning shade of bluish green that doesn't exist anywhere else.
The resort appears around a curve in the road. Low-slung buildings with clean lines and wide porches, designed to blend into the landscape rather than dominate it. Nick built this place on the land of his worst traumas. The small house where Nick grew up was razed and more waterfront land was acquired to make a place for families who need somewhere safe to heal. Somewhere their kids can learn to sail and swim and remember what it feels like to just be children instead of survivors.
I've been here before, during construction, when it was only bare bones and blueprints. We were here again for the grand opening a few months ago, when the cottages were pristine andempty and waiting. But this is different. This is the first time I've seen it alive.
The cottages nestle into mature tropical landscaping that I helped Nick select. There are hibiscus and bougainvillea spilling over walkways, palm fronds swaying in the breeze. The main building sits gracefully at the center, elegant but not intimidating, exactly as Nick envisioned it. I remember walking through with him when it was just studs and drywall, listening to him describe what he wanted each space to feel like. Safe. Welcoming. Private.
And now there are families staying here.
I glimpse children on small sailboats out on the water, colorful sails bright against the blue. They're laughing. Learning. A little girl with dark braids waves at someone from the shore, putting her whole body into the effort. Other families relax in the shade of cabanas, or walk the beach collecting shells, or simply sit together in the quiet way of people who've been given space to justbe.
Nick designed every detail of this place. He chose the architects, approved the landscaping, obsessed over the furniture and the linens and the flow of the common spaces. I watched him pore over blueprints at two in the morning, making notes about sightlines and privacy and where the light would fall at different times of day. He built this with his own vision and his own relentless attention, and now it's full of deserving children enjoying exactly what he created for them.
My throat tightens.
