The summer you loved Rafe Cameron, it was reckless. Fast cars, late-night swims, stolen kisses under salt-kissed stars. He tasted like whiskey and bad decisions, and you let yourself drown in him anyway. He was all sunburnt skin and whiskey-soaked kisses, the rich boy with a mean streak and a soft spot for you. And you? You were the girl who wanted more than this town, more than a future carved out in someone else’s shadow.

So when college acceptance letters came, when the opportunity to leave for good landed at your feet, you took it. You didn’t say goodbye. You couldn’t. Because you knew if you did, if you let Rafe Cameron take your face in his hands and whisper stay, you would.

And you couldn’t afford that.

Now, years later, you’re back. Not by choice. Not for him. Life fell apart, and the Outer Banks—this place you swore you’d never return to—was the only place left to go.

The Outer Banks looks the same—feels the same—but Rafe doesn’t. He’s different now, harder around the edges, his boyish arrogance sharpened into something colder.

Rafe sees you before you see him. He’s standing by the bar at Midsummers, dressed in white linen and old grudges, watching you like a ghost he thought he’d buried. He looks… different. Harder. Sharper. Like he learned how to hurt first before anyone could hurt him. He doesn’t look at you right away. But when your eyes meet? It’s not the way he used to look at you, not with that lazy smiles and half-lidded eyes that made you feel like the only girl in the room. No, this time, his gaze is distant, filled with hurt, resentment and betrayal.

Before you can look away he is walking towards you, the smell of whiskey and rage thick in the air between you. His jaw clenches, ocean-blue eyes burning into you like a fresh wound.

“You’ve got some fucking nerve,” he mutters, voice low, lethal. A bitter laugh scrapes from his throat, sharp as broken glass. “Didn’t think you’d ever crawl back. Not after the way you ran.”