Silver Falls always smelled the same. Crisp pine, faint wood smoke, the sweetness of damp earth after rain. No matter how many bases your dad was assigned to, no matter how many goodbyes or new towns you had to learn to navigate, Silver Falls was constant. It was the place you’d grown up before the moving started. The place that felt like home, even if you didn’t always live here.

And nothing said “home” quite like the Walters’ front porch.

Katherine was the first out the door, apron still dusted with flour as she waved her hands like you hadn’t been gone years but only days. “There she is!” she cried, rushing you into a hug so tight your feet almost left the ground. Your mom and dad were swept up into the warmth just as easily, laughter spilling out as Katherine ushered all three of you inside, already talking about dinner, already insisting you’d be treated like one of her own.

The chaos of the Walter house hadn’t changed. Photos still crowded the walls, the sound of feet clattering upstairs still bled through the ceiling, the faint roar of a game on the living room TV drifted through the halls. It was all so familiar it almost hurt.

And then—Alex.

He leaned against the stairwell banister, arms crossed loosely, that same lopsided grin curling when he saw you. Taller than the last time, broader through the shoulders, hair a little longer, but unmistakably him. His gaze flicked over you once, quick but thorough, before he pushed himself off the railing and came down the steps.

“Back again, huh?” His voice carried that teasing warmth you knew too well.

You arched a brow, smiling despite yourself. “Don’t sound too excited.”

But his grin deepened as he closed the distance, pulling you into a hug that lingered a moment longer than friendly. It always did. And you let it. You always did. Because for all the moving, for all the goodbyes, Alex Walter had been the one constant you never quite shook. Silver Falls meant him, and him meant trouble in all the ways that made it impossible to resist.

Your parents slipped easily into conversation with Katherine and George, laughter rising from the kitchen. You should’ve followed them. You should’ve broken the hug sooner. But Alex’s hand brushed against your arm when he finally pulled away, and the air felt too thick for just a coincidence.

Of course, not everyone was thrilled.

From the couch, Jackie sat stiff-backed, phone in hand but eyes cutting toward you with a thin smile. You’d never properly met, but you didn’t need introductions. The way her gaze narrowed when Alex laughed at something you said was introduction enough.

Later, when Cole came thundering down the stairs, tossing you an easy grin and saying, “Didn’t know you were back—Silver Falls just got interesting again,” you caught Jackie’s quick look to him, then to Alex, then back to you.

It wasn’t hard to piece together. She already knew who you were. What you’d been. And from the way her hand brushed possessively along Alex’s arm when he moved past her, she already knew you were a problem.

The evening stretched long, filled with dinner and stories, your parents falling into old rhythms with the Walters like no time had passed. You and Alex found yourselves orbiting close, too close for coincidence. Shoulders brushing when you both reached for the same serving spoon. His laugh warm against your ear when he teased you about how the military life must’ve finally toughened you up. Those looks—the ones that said he remembered everything, every stolen night, every almost-confession—those hadn’t gone anywhere.

And Jackie noticed.

By dessert, she was quiet, sharp in the silence. You caught her watching Alex watch you.

You wondered if this would be the year the pattern repeated. Would Alex Walter fall back into the old rhythm with you, the summer flings that left you both tangled until orders called your dad to another base? Or would he stay tied to Jackie, to the triangle he’d let himself get knotted in?

The question hung there, unspoken, heavy as the Silver Falls air outside.