One: Lani
The ocean is the same.
It shouldn’t be.
Not after six years. Not after everything that happened. But the waves still roll in, slow and unbothered, licking at the shore like they own it. The air still smells like salt and sun and memories I’ve spent years trying to bury.
I tighten my grip on my suitcase, my fingers digging into the worn leather strap. My pulse thrums in my ears, my stomach clenches, and for a moment, I think about turning around.
But I can’t.
I told myself I’d never come back. That I wouldn’t come back. But Papa is gone, and the weight of that loss is heavier than my pride, heavier than the six years I spent staying as far away from this place as possible.
I let out a slow breath and took a step forward.
And just like that, the memories hit me like a freight train.
Jeremy and I were seventeen, sitting in the old treehouse in his backyard, stargazing through the sunroof. Back then, the world could be anything we wanted it to be.
“One day, I’m going to marry you, Lani,” he said.
“How can you be so sure? Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.”
“Because even if I’m not physically here, you’ll see me in the stars, feel me in the wind. And that first ray of sunshine that peeks through your window? That’s me, telling you good morning. So yes, tomorrow is guaranteed—just not in the way you expect.”
And I’d believed him. Every word.
Jeremy Briggs had been my best friend, my first love, my future. We spent years building something real—something I thought nothing could break.
I was wrong.
The next memory crashes over me, sharp and unforgiving. The too-loud music, the scent of sweat and alcohol in the air, my dress sticking to my skin from dancing too much, laughing too hard. The whole town was celebrating our graduation, but I had been searching for one person.
Jeremy.
I had looked for him for nearly an hour before someone pointed me upstairs, toward one of the bedrooms.
My heart had been racing, a giddy kind of anticipation in my chest. Maybe he had something planned—maybe it was some kind of surprise, one of those moments we’d tell our future kids about, when he gave me something more permanent than the silver promise ring on my finger.
But when I opened the door, all that excitement turned to ice.
My best friend, Leah Woodson.
Jeremy Briggs.
Tangling together in the sheets.
The air had been sucked from my lungs. I stood there, frozen, as my best friend had gasped, eyes wide, shoving the blankets higher up her body. And Jeremy—God, Jeremy—he had just lain there, his pupils blown, his movements slow, unfocused, like he wasn’t even fully sober. But I hadn’t noticed that then. I hadn’t cared.
Because all I saw was them.
All I saw was betrayal.
The ring had been off my finger before I knew what I was doing. I clenched it in my fist so tight it left an imprint on my palm, then threw it at him with everything I had. It hit his chest and fell to the floor with a dull clink. I didn’t stay to hear what he had to say. I didn’t give him a chance to lie to me. I just turned and ran.
And I never looked back.
Until now.
I force in a breath, blinking hard against the sting in my eyes. The past is just that—the past. I didn’t come back for Jeremy. I came back because my grandfather is gone, and no matter how much it hurts, I owe it to him to be here. I just have to get through this trip without running into Jeremy Briggs. Because if I do, I don’t know if I’ll break all over again— Or if I’ll finally ask him why.
