“I can’t believe it’s you. I can’t believe you’re here.” I turned my head to look out at the ocean across the sand. “We made so many memories together at this beach.”

He nodded. “It’s why I brought you here. To this day, I can’t come here and not think of you.”

“It’s why I didn’t want to come,” I said softly, still struggling to regain some sense of composure.

His eyebrows lifted and his expression brightened. “Was that why? I wondered, but of course I couldn’t ask.”

“I never come here. The last time I was here was with you. That day we said good-bye.”

“Don’t remind me. That was one of the hardest days of my life. Even now, when I add up the days in my life that have royally sucked, like this morning, it still ranks up there at the top.”

• • •

“You’re leaving?” Scotty had asked, his hazel eyes etched with pain that even as a teenager I could recognize.

My heart had constricted so tightly I could barely speak, so I had nodded instead as tears flowed freely down my sun-kissed cheeks. The breeze whipped my hair, causing strands to stick to the wet tracks on my face.

“Don’t cry, Madison. We’ll still talk. I’ll call you every day. And we’ll figure out a way to see each other again. I promise.” His words were insistent and determined, as though he believed them.

“I don’t want to go,” I choked out through my sobs. My hands reached out to stroke back the wavy sun-streaked strands that the breeze stirred in front of his eyes.

Scotty wiped at my tears, plucking my own stuck strands free and tucking them behind my ear before pulling me into a hard hug. “I don’t want you to go either. I’m not ready to say good-bye.”

“I’ll never be ready,” I said solemnly.

“This has been the best summer of my life. You hear me? The best.”

Reluctant to leave, I pulled away from his embrace. “I have to go. My parents are waiting for me.”

“I–I,” he stuttered before looking down at the sand. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” The words slid effortlessly from my teenage lips.

“This isn’t done between us. You and me,” he said, his breathing ragged. “We’re not over. You believe me, don’t you?”

I had nodded, wanting with all my heart to believe his words. Then he had kissed me. His tongue had stroked desperately in and out of my mouth, his awkward and rushed movements proof of his inexperience.

• • •

The memory faded as Walker’s voice filled my ears and his face came into view. “God, Madison. I looked for you. The following summer.” His eyes glistened, and I knew I’d lose it even more if he cried.

I willed him not to. Not here. Not in this moment when I so desperately needed to pull it together and not fall apart.

“You never went back to the beach, did you?” he asked.

I thought back, recalling how distraught I’d been when I lost contact with him. How desperately I wanted to be in touch with him and how hopeless I’d felt. My mom and best friend both told me to forget him. They insisted that he’d long since forgotten about me and I needed to do the same. I didn’t want to believe them, but I eventually stopped ignoring the obvious message his silence contained.

By the time the following summer came around and we ended up on the beaches of Malibu, I made sure to never go near our beach again.

I shook my head. “I couldn’t. I didn’t want to go back there. Too many memories. Plus, my best friend had me convinced that you had moved on. She asked me how I’d feel if I saw you with someone else. I knew it would kill me, so I never risked it.”

“Actually, I did the exact opposite.”

I leaned toward him, looking up into his eyes. “What do you mean?” As his thumb idly circled the skin on my hand, I thought about how I never wanted it to stop. I never wanted him to stop touching me. Ever.

“Almost every day the next summer, I went to that particular spot at the beach looking for you. I was obsessed, wanting so badly to see you again, that I convinced myself you’d know I was waiting. That you’d be able to sense me there.” He paused. “I needed to find you, but you never came. And eventually I stopped going.”

Shocked, I leaned away from him, my back pressing into the hard steel of my car as I allowed the realization of his words to sink in. He’d gone back to the beach to look for me? He had wanted to see me again?

“I figured you were done with me,” I whispered. “Forgotten all about me. We were just kids.”

Walker tipped my face up and snared my gaze with his. “I could never forget you. You’ve always held a piece of my heart, Madison.”

More tears fell and I quickly brushed them away with the back of my hand.

“Let’s go inside and eat,” he suggested. “Think you can handle being back in our café?” He pushed himself from off the ground and extended a hand to me.

“As long as I’m with you, I think I can handle anything.” I reached for his hand and he pulled me up effortlessly before yanking me against him.

“Looks like you’ll be unstoppable because I’m never leaving your side again.” His hands splayed across my back as he dipped his head so his lips could meet mine.

My body leaned into his as my mouth opened, accepting him, wanting him. I reached around his neck and lightly raked my fingernails down the length of it before stopping at his shoulders. Our tongues took turns moving from one mouth to the other, every stroke, every touch making our hearts beat faster.

Walker pulled back. “We need to stop or I’m going to end up throwing you down right here in the parking lot and having my way with you,” he said with a teasing tone.

I burst out laughing. “The press would have a field day! Could you imagine? Let’s go eat. Suddenly I’m starving.”

“Me too.” He licked his lips. “But not for food.”

The café’s teenage hostess had a mini breakdown before seating us, fanning her face with her hand and shakily asking Walker for his autograph. My heart, which had miraculously found its way back into my chest, swelled with appreciation. I’d been absent for so many years from Walker’s life, but I suddenly felt like I hadn’t missed a day.

Once we were seated in our booth, I looked over at him, so proud of the man he had become. And I knew his mother would be too. Now it made sense why he had asked me last night if I remembered her being sick. Of course I had. His mom had been diagnosed the summer we met. I’d always thought that going through that together had bonded us in a deeper way. I never truly imagined how right I was.

• • •

I had been sitting in the sand playing fetch with one of the Johnsons’s dogs when I’d found myself mesmerized by the surfers in the water. The way they paddled out on their boards, moving in a particular direction before I even noticed any inkling of a wave forming, was beautiful to watch. When they would rise to their feet and maneuver the board like it was attached to them, cutting through waves doing tricks I couldn’t even imagine doing, I wanted to stand up and applaud.

One of the younger guys rode a small chopper until it ended at the shoreline. He tucked his board under his arm and jogged up to sit in the sand next to me. I almost asked him what he wanted when I noticed a pile of clothing sitting there.

“Hey,” he said, and I turned to see the hottest pair of hazel eyes staring back at me.

“Hey, yourself.”

“Local or tourist?” he asked as he lowered the zipper from his wetsuit and shimmied it halfway down his body, revealing his bare chest.

“Um…” I hesitated, unsure of how to answer. I wasn’t from Malibu, but I wasn’t a tourist either.

“Do you live here or are you from out of state?” A towel now sat wrapped tightly around his waist as he pulled the rest of his wetsuit free.