k, her sketchbook balanced on her knees, a pencil tucked behind her ear. She wasn't an artist-not like Evan, whose architectural drawings could make a buil

ight: Evan's gaze under the stars, the brush of his fingers, t

Her mother's husband. But the truth sat heavy in her chest: Evan didn't feel like family.

his hair still damp from a shower. "Morning, early bird," he said, his voice warm, like the first sip of coffee on a cool day. He han

k away. "Hardly. Just messing arou

me see. Can't be worse than my first blueprints.

ed the starfish, his fingers brushing the page. "Not bad, Harper. You've got an eye for det

ked a curl behind her ear. "Nah, I'll stick to s

leaving hers. "The ocean's good for that. Make

ange flip again. "Exactly. Like it's

simpler, where Claire's absence and the weight of their roles faded. Lila sipped her coffee, savoring the hazelnut notes-Evan alwa

big plans for today? Or are you just gonna

. I was thinking of heading to the tide pools. There's a low tide thi

Tide pools, huh? That's the glamo

deadpan. "Me, some seaweed,

me company? I could use a break from drafting plans for Mrs. Ellison

elt... dangerous. Not because he'd done anything wrong, but because being alone with h

and sample jars, while Evan hauled a small cooler with water and snacks. The tide pools were a mosaic of life-starfish clinging to rocks, anemones swa

urchin nestled in a crevice. "They're so delica

ould smell his cedar-and-salt scent. "Like you,"

r breath caught, and she looked away, focusing on the urchin to hide the flu

He asked questions-good ones, about ecosystems and conservation-that showed he'd been listening to her rants over the past tw

t saving the oceans?" Evan asked, tossing a p

. Not novels or anything-just stories about the s

d be a sailor. Live on a boat, chase the h

ocks. "You'd be a terrible sailor. You'd

inkling. "But I'd have you as

s hung between them, simple but heavy, like driftwood washed ashore. She wanted to

se he knew it was her favorite-and they ate in silence, the ocean's rhythm filling the space. Lila watched him, the way his jaw moved as h

id, catching her eye with

... wondering how you survive on PB&J. Thoug

oa's overrated. Give me a sandwich

his presence felt like coming home. It was wrong, wasn't it? To feel this way about the man married to her mother. But sitting he

as testing the waters. "You ever feel like... you'

, and she saw something there-vulnerability, maybe, or a mirror of her own

to the blanket, his fingers t

the distance. But a gull cried overhead, sharp and sudden, and she jerked back, the sp

nding, his expression

the path back to the house, Lila's heart pounded, not from the effort but from the truth she co