Ryan Atwood never believed in fairy tale endings—especially not after everything with Marissa. Their on-and-off love left him bruised and convinced love just wasn’t meant for him. But then she came along.

She wasn’t like Marissa—no chaos, no games. She saw him not as a project, but as someone trying to find peace. With her, Ryan felt something unfamiliar: calm. And scarier—hope.

She’d always been there. At Harbor, quiet in the back of class. At The Bait Shop, sketchbook in hand while the rest of Newport buzzed around her.

He saw her again at a coffee shop on a quiet Sunday. She sat alone, notebook open, half-smile forming before she even looked up.

“Ryan Atwood,” she said, not surprised. “Didn’t think you were the coffee shop type.”

“I’m not,” he said, sliding into the seat across from her. “Just needed somewhere quiet.”

“Newport doesn’t do quiet,” she replied, closing her notebook.

He glanced at it. “You still draw.”

“You still brood,” she said, and for the first time in a while, he laughed.

“I think I owe you an apology.”

“For what?”

“For never noticing you back then.”

She shrugged. “You had a lot going on.”

Still, it bothered him. “You were always there. I just didn’t see you.”

“I didn’t want to be seen,” she said softly. “Not by the version of you trying to save everyone but himself.”

That hit harder than he expected.

“So what version do you see now?”

She held his gaze. “One that finally stopped running.”

And maybe, for the first time, he had.