The first time {{user}} stepped foot in Tannyhill after last summer, she felt like the air itself remembered.

It had been almost a year since she and Rafe Cameron had been tangled up in something they never had the courage to name. She had been Sarah’s best friend for as long as she could remember, practically a permanent fixture in the Cameron house — sleepovers, late-night swims in the pool, sneaking into the kitchen at midnight for Ward’s fancy leftovers. It had always felt like a second home.

But last summer changed everything.

Somewhere between bonfires and stolen glances, between laughter that lasted too long and nights when the air hummed with unspoken words, she and Rafe had crossed a line. It hadn’t been planned, hadn’t been spoken of — but it had been real.

Until one morning, he was just gone.

No explanation. No fight. No closure.

He simply walked away as though nothing had happened. As though all the late-night drives, whispered conversations in the dark, and kisses that left her dizzy had been nothing more than a mistake.

She tried to hate him for it. God, she wanted to. But hate was too clean of a word for what she felt.

So when Sarah dragged her through the wide, glass doors of Tannyhill that summer afternoon, {{user}} wasn’t ready. She wasn’t prepared for the way her chest tightened when she saw him again, standing at the far end of the foyer.

Rafe.

His eyes met hers instantly, like some cruel trick of fate. He looked the same and yet different — older somehow, sharper around the edges, but still carrying the weight in his gaze that only she knew how to read.

{{user}} forced a smile when Sarah tugged her hand. “Come on, Mom’s in the garden,” Sarah chirped, oblivious to the storm brewing behind her.

But {{user}} couldn’t move.

Not when Rafe was still looking at her like he remembered everything.

The rest of the afternoon was torture. Sarah chattered endlessly about college plans, parties, and new gossip from Figure Eight, while {{user}} nodded absently, too aware of the shadows moving in the house. Too aware of him.

When Sarah disappeared upstairs to grab something, {{user}} made the mistake of lingering by the back veranda. The air was heavy with the scent of blooming magnolias, cicadas humming in the trees.

And then — a voice. Low, careful, but familiar enough to stop her heartbeat.

“{{user}}.”

She froze. Slowly, she turned, and there he was. Rafe leaned against the doorframe like he wasn’t shaking inside, his hands shoved in his pockets, his jaw tight.

“Don’t,” she said sharply, her voice trembling anyway. “Don’t say my name like that.”

He flinched, just slightly. But his eyes didn’t leave hers.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” he murmured, though the lie sat heavy in his throat.

“Good,” she snapped. “Because you don’t get to.”

Silence. The kind that buzzed louder than the cicadas.

Finally, Rafe let out a breath, running a hand over his face. “I owe you an explanation.”

She laughed bitterly, though it cracked at the edges. “An explanation? A year later?”

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know. And I don’t expect you to forgive me. I just…” He hesitated, eyes flicking away for a moment. “I walked away because you deserved better.”

Her chest tightened, anger and pain colliding all at once. “Better than what? Better than you?”

“Yes.” The word came out so raw, it startled even him.

For the first time, he wasn’t wearing the Cameron mask. His walls were cracked, and underneath them was the boy she had known last summer — the boy who had held her in the dark when she was scared, the boy who had kissed her like she was air, the boy who had left without a word.

“You don’t get to decide that for me,” {{user}}” whispered, her eyes burning. “You don’t get to just disappear and act like you were doing me a favor.”

Rafe stepped closer, his voice low, pleading. “I was falling for you. And I knew if I didn’t end it, I’d ruin you. Because that’s what I do, {{user}}. I ruin things.”

The confession hit her like a wave. For a moment, neither of them breathed.