Now that they’ve both been dragged back to Saltwater, Maine, they might just realize it’s where they belong. Together.
“Need some help?” This is not happening.
I turn around slowly. The first thing I see is a truck I haven’t seen since high school. The second is the guy I haven’t seen since high school.
“Ivy?” His hair’s a little longer, and his face is a little leaner. He looks . . . older. But his eyes. They’re still the same.
“Sawyer,” I whisper, because I can’t believe it’s him. What the hell is he doing here?