How could I possibly tell my dad what happened, the real reason I’m back in Port Snow? No one knows, and honestly, I don’t want to think about it, relive the past, not when I’m trying to move forward.

I swallow hard. “Brandon wasn’t the man I thought he was.”

My dad eyes me from across the lantern but doesn’t push me any further. Instead, he asks, “So what are your plans now?”

“I don’t really know. I mean, I thought I would help out you and Eve until tourist season roars up again and from there maybe tour-guiding along the coast. Not quite sure.”

“Is that what you really want? You always said you wanted bigger and better things than Port Snow.”

That’s because I was with Rogan, and it felt like I could do anything with him by my side. Now . . . hell, now I don’t even know who I am anymore. It’s as if I’m an empty shell ready to be filled, but I keep relying on the wrong person to fill it.

“I don’t know what I want, Dad,” I answer, tears welling in my eyes, my voice shaky.

Not missing anything when it comes to his daughter, my dad sets down his rag and walks to me. He gently pulls the squeegee from my hand and wraps me in his embrace. As he lifts my chin, tears run down my face.

“Oh, Harper.” He pulls me into a hug, his arms cocooning me in safety. “What’s going on, my beautiful girl?”

I press my cheek against his flannel button-up shirt, finding, for the first time in months, true solace. “I’m lost, Dad. I’m so freaking lost.”

He kisses the top of my head. “Then maybe we spend some time finding you.”

“I don’t even know where to begin. I thought I had everything figured out.” My breath catches in my chest. “I thought . . . God, I thought I would be married with children by now. I thought I would still be with—”

I can’t even say his name, the pain too raw, especially after seeing him last night. Even after seven years, it just reminded me of everything I’ve lost: the love of my life, my future, my best friend, myself.

It’s almost as if once Rogan broke up with me, I’ve been a helpless wanderer, floating up and down the East Coast, searching for anything to make me happy again.

I’m still searching.

“It must be hard, being back in the same town as him, but I raised a stronger woman than that. I raised an independent woman who doesn’t need a man to make her happy.”

Rogan was so much more than just a man to me . . . so much more.

“I know.” I wipe away a tear. “But I was so set on what my life was going to be when I was with Rogan.”

“And now it’s time to change gears and figure out who you are, Harper. Figure out what you want. I think it’s time you let the past go and start looking toward your future.”

“I don’t know how to let him go, Dad. He was such a huge part of my life, and being here in Port Snow, it’s like I’m reliving those memories all over again.”

“Well,” he says, placing another kiss on my head, “I guess we’re just going to have to make new memories in this town, aren’t we?”

CHAPTER FOUR

ROGAN

Sophomore Year, High School

“How could you have missed that throw? It practically bounced off your chest,” Griffin calls out, a wicked smile on his face.

I rest my hands on my hips, my breath short after sprinting back and forth down the beach. The football did bounce off my chest, right in front of Harper too. Freaking embarrassing. “Maybe if you threw it ten feet to the left, then I would have had a shot. You can’t just make me run for the hell of it.”

“I think that’s exactly what he’s doing.” Harper laughs, retrieving the football. She gives it a good toss back to Griffin, but it falls about twelve feet short. “Ooh, almost made it that time.”

“What did I tell you?” I come up behind her and grip her arm. “You have to use your whole body, not just your arm.” I demonstrate, moving her hips. Any opportunity to touch her . . . and from the knowing look in Griffin’s eyes as he watches us, he understands my intentions.

She swats me away. “I know what I’m doing. I don’t need your help.”

“Really? Because it looks like you do.”

“Don’t let him put you down,” Claire, Griffin’s girlfriend, says as she jogs barefoot through the surf and pulls Harper into a side hug, her golden hair whipping in the ocean breeze. “He’s just jealous you have better spin on your ball.” I know Harper envies her a lot, but not in a jealous kind of way; Claire may be stunning, but she’s also one of the sweetest people we know.

“What?” I scoff. “You wish. Out of all of us, I’m the one who should be handing out lessons.”

Griffin runs up the beach to join the conversation, tossing the ball to me when he reaches Claire. He wraps his arms around her and kisses her neck. They’ve been dating for a while now; it almost feels like she’s been a part of the family for years. She holds her own with us brothers, doesn’t even knock when she comes to the house, and is at family dinner at least every other night.

“As much fun as this was, I think I’m going to take my girlfriend for a little walk along the beach.” Griffin slides his hand down to Claire’s and pulls her in the opposite direction.

Claire waves and gives us a quick smile. “This was fun.”

Took them long enough to venture out. Now I get some alone time with Harper. At least that’s what I think I want—until she looks at me with that beautiful smile, and all I can do is feel my cheeks go scary hot.

Be cool, man.

Once they’re out of earshot, I turn to Harper and hold up the football. “Go long?” Her brow pinches together. Ugh, real smooth, man.

“No thanks. You throw it too hard.”

“And here I thought you were saying your arm is better than mine.”

She laughs and walks back to the blanket, her hands in her pockets, her butt looking really good in those shorts. I shift uncomfortably, trying to hide the feelings sprouting up inside me. “It is. That’s why I’m not throwing you passes down the beach; I don’t want to hurt those precious hands of yours a week before school starts.”

“Wow, when did my best friend become so considerate?”

I sprawl out on our blanket while Harper sinks down next to me and pulls a Capri Sun from the cooler for each of us. “I have my moments.”

We both insert our straws and sip, gazing out toward the ocean. Well, at least Harper does. I’m busy stealing glances in her direction. Checking out the way her long legs captured the sun this summer and the pink on her toenails that continue to dig deep into the sand.

And then there’s her lips. She’s wearing some kind of glossy shit on them today, so every time she moves her head, they glisten in the sun. It’s driving me crazy.

What would it taste like to press her lips against mine? Would she taste like vanilla, her signature scent, or sweet like the strawberry gloss on her lips?

And what’s with her shirt today?

It’s short; every time she’s leaped into the air, I’ve seen patches of her firm, toned stomach. It’s doing all sorts of weird things to my body, and even Griffin noticed once. He smacked me on the back of the head and told me to stop staring.

But I can’t. I can’t seem to pry my eyes off her.

“Do you think they’re going to go make out?” Harper asks, pulling me from my horny thoughts.

Caught off guard, I tear my eyes from her legs and clear my throat, putting down the empty Capri Sun I hadn’t realized I’d finished. “Uh . . . probably. They always go to this little alcove a few yards down.”

“Hmm . . .”

She doesn’t say anything after that, and I worry. Why would she care if they’re making out? Does she have a crush on Griffin? I mean, I could see that; I’m firmly planted in the friend zone, and just about every girl in town swoons over Griffin anyway. If she did have a crush on him, I’m pretty sure that would just about crush me.

Then again, he’s with Claire, so would it really matter?

“Why do you ask?”

She sets her Capri Sun to the side and lies back on the blanket, folding her hands behind her head. “Just, you know . . . wondering.” She sighs wistfully.

I lie down next to her and bump her elbow with mine as the sand molds to my body. “Why are you wondering?” I take a risk and ask, “Do you have a crush on Griffin or something?”

My breath seizes in my chest as I wait for her to answer. Please say no. Please say no.

Propping herself up on one elbow, she looks down at me, eyebrow raised. “Are you serious? No! Why would you think that?”

Thank God.

I can’t hold back my smile. “I don’t know. You just seemed curious about, you know . . . if he was making out.”

She performs a dramatic eye roll before lying back down. “Forget it.”

“When you say shit like that, you know I can’t forget it. So you can either spill it now or let me harass you for half an hour before I get it out of you.”

“Ugh, I hate that you’re right.”

“Come on.” I nudge her. “You can tell me anything.”

I roll my head to the side, our noses almost touching as I wait for her to spill the beans. She bites down on her plump lip, a thoughtful expression on her face. What’s she so scared to tell me? There isn’t much that we haven’t told each other—really anything, actually.