Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Last Summer

The beach house in Miami was supposed to be Sienna’s escape.

Two weeks away from the city. Away from expectations. Away from the quiet pressure of her future being decided in rooms she was never invited into.

Her mother said she needed time to find herself before serious marriage discussions began.

If only she knew.

The house sat high on a cliff overlooking the ocean, all glass and white stone. Beautiful in the distant, untouchable way expensive things always were. But tonight, Sienna did not want beautiful.

She wanted real.

That was how she ended up walking barefoot toward the bonfire burning on the public beach below.

She had watched it from her bedroom window for over an hour. The orange glow against the dark sky. The sound of laughter carried on the wind. People her age moving freely, loudly, without permission.

People who were living.

After midnight, she slipped out quietly, trading silk pajamas for jeans and a thin t shirt. If the security guard her father insisted on woke and noticed her absence, the consequences would be swift. But the restlessness in her chest was louder than fear.

The sand was cool beneath her feet as she followed the light.

The fire crackled, sending sparks into the night sky. Someone strummed a guitar. Someone passed around beer. Faces glowed gold in the firelight, careless and alive.

She stopped at the edge of the group, suddenly unsure. She did not know how to do this. How to exist without rules.

“You look lost.”

The voice came from behind her.

She turned, and her breath caught.

He sat on a piece of driftwood with a camera resting in his hands. Firelight traced the sharp line of his jaw and the ink covering his arms. A silver earring glinted when he moved. His eyes were dark and steady, like he was really seeing her.

“I’m not lost,” she said, though it felt like a lie. “Just watching.”

He lowered the camera. Studied her. Really looked.

“You’re not from around here.”

“What gave me away?”

“The way you’re standing. Like you’re waiting for permission to exist.” He rose to his feet, tall and solid in a black t shirt. “I’m Landon.”

“Sienna.”

“Well, Sienna, you want to sit? Fire’s warmer closer in.”

She should have gone back.

Blake women did not sit around bonfires with tattooed strangers who noticed too much.

But she sat.

He handed her a beer. She had never drunk from a bottle before.

It tasted bitter and cold and thrilling.

“What do you do?” she asked, nodding toward his camera.

“I chase moments most people miss,” he said. “Truth, mostly.” He took a sip. “What about you?”

The question froze her.

What did she do?

“I don’t really do anything.”

He frowned. “Everyone does something.”

“I just exist,” she said quietly.

He studied her, expression softening. “That sounds lonely.”

The word hit her chest.

“It is,” she admitted.

Her phone buzzed. Noah’s name lit the screen.

Hope you’re enjoying the beach house. Thinking of you.

Her stomach twisted. She turned the phone off without replying.

“You want to get out of here?” Landon asked.

“Where?”

He shrugged. “Does it matter?”

For the first time in her life, it did not.

“What if someone sees me?”

“Who’s looking out here?” He stepped closer, voice dropping. “Or are you afraid of getting caught wanting something?”

Yes.

Terrified.

“Maybe,” she whispered.

“Good,” he said, holding out his hand. “Fear means it matters.”

She stared at his hand. This was the moment. The line she could not uncross.

She took it.

They walked down the beach where the sand softened and the waves rolled endlessly beside them.

“Tell me something real,” he said.

“What kind of real?”

“Something true. Something you never say out loud.”

She swallowed. “I’m supposed to get engaged soon. Our families already planned everything. The wedding. The life.”

“And you want it?”

“I don’t know what I want,” she said. “I’ve never been allowed to find out.”

He stopped and turned to her. “If you could choose anything right now, what would it be?”

She did not hesitate. “I want to feel something real. Just once.”

The words hung heavy between them.

“I can give you that,” he said quietly. “But you will remember this night long after you wish you could forget it.”

The warning should have stopped her.

Instead, it made her want him more.

“Show me.”

He kissed her.

It was not careful. Not polite. It was hunger and heat and need. His hands tangled in her hair, pulling her closer. The ocean breeze brushed her skin as the world disappeared.

When he pulled back, she was breathless.

“Your place or mine?” he asked.

“Yours.”

His cottage was small and weathered, windows open to the sea. She hesitated at the door.

“You sure?” he asked.

She nodded.

He kissed her slower this time, deeper, like he was memorizing her. Her shirt came off. His mouth followed.

“You’re beautiful,” he said.

And for the first time, she believed it.

He carried her to the bed. The sheets smelled like salt and him. His touch was sure and reverent and hungry all at once.

When he asked if she was certain, she said yes without fear.

He loved her like the night might end the world.

She gave herself to him completely.

After, they lay tangled together, his fingers tracing her skin.

“I should go,” she whispered.

“Should you?”

“I don’t even know your last name.”

“Does it matter?”

Lying there, nothing else did.

They made love again as the sun rose.

When she woke, he was gone.

Only a note remained.

You’re going to be okay. Do not let them erase who you are.

She cried quietly, clutching it to her chest.

She walked back to the beach house alone.

The cottage was empty.

Weeks later, she said yes to Noah Callahan.

Because that was what Blake women did.

But some nights, she still touched the hidden note and remembered what it felt like to want something for herself.

She remembered him.

And she always would.