17. Ami
Chapter seventeen
Ami
A wave of nostalgia washes over me as I stop beneath the fluttering banner:
Annual Seabrook Sandcastle Competition
For years, this was my favorite summer day.
The one I counted down to with almost unbearable impatience.
Ethan and I would battle it out for first place, our rivalry the stuff of town legend.
When he won one year, I’d come back the next with a vengeance—only for him to steal the title again the next.
It was infuriating. He was a smug kid, always gloating in that maddening way that made me want to bury him in the sand—figuratively, of course. I couldn’t imagine we’d ever be friends. And yet, looking back, some of my happiest memories in Seabrook have him stamped all over them.
As my bare feet sink into the soft, warm sand, I wish I were twelve again—back when the world felt endless and my parents were still alive.
I can almost hear Mom laughing as she tried to sculpt a mermaid that looked suspiciously like a sea monster, while Dad strolled around, pretending to be the royal judge of the beach.
The memory is sun-drenched, salty, and so full of love it makes my heart ache in the sweetest way.
“Missing the feeling of losing to me?”
The voice behind me sends a little spark down my spine. My lips curve before I even turn. Ethan’s standing there, that same overconfident smirk tugging at his mouth—and somehow, on him, it’s more infuriating and more attractive than it’s ever been.
“Oh please,” I snort. “We both won the same number of times.”
He steps closer, shrug deepening the crinkle at the corners of his eyes. “True. We never did settle the score.”
“Probably on purpose,” I muse. “The judges were in on it. Everybody in town wanted us to get along.”
“Guess it worked,” he says, and his gaze lingers on me for a beat longer than it should. “One night stuck in the bookstore, a hidden history, and here we are—teammates.”
“More than teammates,” I admit softly. “If we’d ever formed an alliance as kids, nobody would’ve stood a chance.”
His mouth tips in a way that sends my pulse skipping. “Speaking of alliances… want to build one together? No rivalry this time.”
I arch a brow. “I would love to. Just once more.”
“Stay here.” He strides off to the judges, working that charm of his until they’re nodding and smiling. When he comes back, victory gleams in his eyes. “We’re in. Not officially competing but making a ‘motivation piece’ to inspire the kids.”
“You charmed them, didn’t you?”
“Obviously.”
We find a perfect spot, our footsteps side by side in the damp sand. He borrows tools with that easy confidence that’s always gotten him what he wants—and then we’re working, our hands brushing more than necessary.
Ethan suggests building the history of Seabrook—past and present—in sand. I love the idea instantly. We work without thinking, laughter and conversation flowing like the tide. Tiny cottages, the lighthouse, busy cafés… it all rises under our fingertips.
At some point, his shoulder bumps mine, and neither of us moves away. The heat from the sun has nothing on the warmth building between us. He leans in to point at a detail on my side of the castle, his arm brushing mine, his voice low and close enough to stir every nerve.
When we step back to admire our finished masterpiece, we’re both grinning. I glance up at him to say something, but the look in his eyes stills the words on my tongue.
It’s that same look he used to give me before declaring he was going to win—only now, it’s softer. Warmer.
And then, before I can overthink it, I come up on my toes and kiss him.
It’s not hurried or overly dramatic, just warm and steady, tasting faintly of salt and sun. A kiss that feels like years of rivalry melting into something entirely different.
When we pull back, his forehead rests against mine, his voice a low murmur. “Guess we finally settled the score.”
And for once, I don’t care who won.