The Summer I stayed with him

Chapter 4

River rolled his eyes. "We're not doing this."

"Relax." She smiled at me. "You're brave, you know. Sharing walls with him."

"I've already survived five rules, two mood swings, and a murder stare," I said. "I'm doing okay."

River snorted. Skye looked delighted.

We settled near the fire. People kept arriving. I recognized a few from the store-Tom's son, a girl with lavender hair who'd winked at River in the cereal aisle. A group of guys laughed too loudly near the shoreline, half-drunk and shirtless.

One of them looked over.

And then he started walking toward us.

Tall, tan, cocky grin. His walk screamed I think I'm charming, which was already a red flag.

"River," he drawled. "Didn't expect to see you here. Or... with company."

"Micah," River replied, flatly.

Micah's eyes flicked to me. "You must be the girl staying at his haunted house. I'm Micah. I do fun. You should try it sometime."

I raised a brow. "Is that a line?"

He grinned wider. "It can be."

"She's good," Skye whispered.

River didn't say a word. But his jaw was clenched.

Micah plopped down next to me, way too close, and offered me a drink. I shook my head.

He leaned closer. "You want to walk down the beach? Away from these weird vibes?"

Before I could answer, River stood. His tone was even, but sharp. "She's good where she is."

Micah laughed, but it didn't reach his eyes. "Still playing protector? Thought you gave that up when Eli-"

The fire cracked loudly. I didn't breathe.

River stepped forward.

"Finish that sentence," he said, voice ice.

Micah's smirk faltered. "Relax, man. Just messing around."

Skye cleared her throat. "Micah, go get another beer. Or go drown. Either works."

He left, finally.

I stared at the flames, heart pounding.

"Who's Eli?" I asked, not looking at River.

He didn't answer right away. Then: "Someone who's not here anymore."

That was all I got.

⸻

Later, I wandered down the beach alone.

I needed air. Space. Time to un-jumble the thoughts Micah had stirred up. I didn't know who Wren was-but I knew River had secrets with sharp edges, and I'd just brushed against one.

I kicked off my sandals, letting the waves tease my toes.

Then I heard footsteps behind me.

River.

"You didn't have to follow me," I said.

"Didn't," he said. "Just wanted to make sure Micah didn't."

I nodded. "You okay?"

He shoved his hands into his hoodie pocket. "Yeah."

Silence.

Then, I asked the thing that had been bubbling since that moment at the fire.

"Do you always keep people at arm's length?"

He looked at me. Really looked.

"Only the ones I want to keep," he said softly.

It knocked the breath right out of me.

I turned to the ocean, letting the cold wind bite my cheeks.

"You don't have to protect me from whatever this is," I said. "I'm not fragile."

"No," he agreed. "You're not."

Another silence, but this one felt full.

He stepped closer. Not touching. Just near enough that I could feel the heat of him, even with the ocean wind cutting between us.

"You have ocean eyes," I said without thinking.

He glanced at me, confused.

"Cold at first. But deep. And honest."

He said nothing. Just stared.

I didn't expect anything else. I didn't expect him to smile or say something poetic.

But then-he reached out.

Not to touch. Just to brush my hair out of my face, his fingers barely skimming my cheek. The gentlest thing he'd done since I arrived.

"I should've told you not to talk to Micah," he murmured.

"I already figured that out."

"He and I... we're not the same."

"No," I said. "He's shallow. You're stormy."

He laughed, low and surprised. "You've got all the metaphors, huh?"

"It's how I make sense of things."

He nodded.

We stood there until the fire was just an echo behind us and the sea grew bold beneath the moon.

I wrote one sentence that night before bed:

"He looks cold, but he burns quietly. Like something buried under waves that's learning how to breathe again."