We walk in comfortable silence at first, the path winding down to the public beach access. The sun hangs low, turning the sky into a watercolor wash of orange and pink. Waves roll in steady and gentle, foam hissing against the sand.
When we hit the shoreline, we turn south, away from the pier lights. The beach stretches empty ahead of us, just us and the water and the fading day.
She swings our joined hands lightly. “Tell me something about tonight’s bonfire. Who’ll be there?”
“Friends mostly. A couple of guys I surf with, their wives or girlfriends, and a few locals who bring guitars and coolers. It’s low-key. No one expects you to perform or be anything other than yourself.”
She glances up at me. “I’m still figuring that out.”
“Then you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.” I squeeze her hand. “No one’s judging. They’ll just be glad you’re there.”
She exhales, shoulders relaxing a fraction. “I keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. For someone to ask why I’m really here, or how long I’m staying, or what my plan is.”
“Let them ask.” I stop walking, turning her to face me. The last sliver of sun gilds her hair, her skin. “You don’t owe anyone answers. Not even me.”
Her eyes search mine. “But I want to give them to you.”
My heart kicks hard. “Then I’m listening.”
She takes a breath, looks out at the water, then back at me. “I’m scared I’ll get comfortable here, and then August comes, and I have to go back to a life that doesn’t fit anymore. I don’tknow how to stay open to possibilities and protect myself at the same time.”
I lift her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. “You don’t have to figure it out tonight. Or tomorrow. We take it day by day. If August comes and you need to leave, I’ll hate it, but I won’t try to keep you here against your will. If you decide you want to stay longer, I’ll be right here waiting to see what that looks like.”
Tears shimmer in her eyes, but she blinks them back, smiling instead. “You make it sound like you’ll want me here forever. You don’t know me well enough. I might drive you crazy after a week of knowing me.”
“I know what I feel, and I don’t think I’ll ever want you to leave. I don’t think you could ever drive me crazy, except in the very best way,” I wiggle my eyebrows, and she laughs just like I want her to.
The sun slips below the horizon, leaving the sky bruised purple and the first stars pricking through. We start walking again, slower now, her arm looped through mine.
When we reach a quiet stretch backed by dunes, I stop. Turn her toward me. The firelight from the distant bonfire flickers faintly down the beach, but here it’s just starlight and her.
I cup her face with both hands. “Grace.”
She rises on her toes, meeting me halfway.
The kiss starts soft, lips brushing, testing, savoring. Then she sighs against my mouth, and everything shifts. I angle her head, deepen the connection, tasting salt and coffee and the sweet heat that’s only her. She presses closer, hands sliding up my chest to my shoulders, fingers digging in like she needs the anchor.
I walk her backward until her back meets the smooth curve of a dune, sand cool against the night air. My hands slide down her sides, settling at her waist, pulling her flush against me. She gasps softly when she feels how much I want her, and the sound sends fire through my veins.
I kiss her like a starving man. Her tongue meets mine in slow, deliberate strokes. My hands roam her back, slipping under the hem of her sweater to trace bare skin. She arches into the touch, a quiet moan vibrating against my lips.
When we finally break apart, both breathing hard, she rests her forehead against mine.
“I feel alive,” she whispers. “Really alive. Like I’ve been asleep for years, and I’m just waking up.”
I brush my thumb across her swollen lower lip. “Good. I’m not done waking you up.”
She smiles against my mouth, kissing me once more. This kiss is soft, lingering, full of promise.
Down the beach, the bonfire glows brighter, laughter drifting on the wind.
I take her hand again. “Ready to join them?”
She nods, squeezing my fingers. “Yeah, I’m ready.”
We walk toward the firelight together, the night stretching out ahead of us, full of possibility and heat and the kind of quiet certainty that doesn’t need words.
5
