Page 35 of Chasing Sunsets

I reach the top first—barely—and burst onto the observation deck, my pulse racing. The view steals the breath right out of my lungs. The entire island is spread out below us, sand dunes rolling into clusters of windblown oaks and palm trees. The shoreline dotted with homes. The ocean stretching beyond it all, endless and shimmering under the fading sun.

Anson steps up beside me—not even winded, of course. “Worth the climb?”

I nod, my heart still hammering. “Absolutely.”

He leans against the railing, his gaze flicking from the horizon to me. “I used to come here all the time as a kid. My dad would bring me and my friends, tell us stories about shipwrecks and lost treasure. We swore, one day, we’d find one.” Hechuckles, shaking his head. “Never did, obviously. But it made the place feel like ours, you know?”

I glance at him, feeling a warmth settle in my chest. “This island, this life—it suits you.”

His expression shifts, something unreadable passing across his face. “Yeah?”

I nod. “Yeah.”

He turns to face me. “It suits you too, you know. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had lived here your whole life; it’s as if you’re meant to stay here with us.”

For a moment, neither of us says anything. The wind dances between us, carrying the scent of the sea, the soft crash of waves against the shore below. Then, Anson smirks, nudging me lightly with his elbow.

“Well, since we’re already up here, I guess we should check for treasure. Maybe some old lighthouse keeper left behind a chest full of gold doubloons.”

I laugh. “Gold doubloons?”

“Maybe.” He grins. “Come on. Let’s look around.”

We search the small room at the top of the lighthouse, running our hands over the web-covered walls, tapping the wooden floorboards like two overgrown kids on a scavenger hunt. Anson even pries open an old storage cabinet, only to find nothing but dust and a very unimpressed spider.

“Okay, so maybe we won’t be rich by the end of the night,” he concedes, brushing off his hands. “But I’d say we’re still winning.”

“Yeah?” I arch a brow. “And why’s that?”

He steps closer, his brown eyes locked on mine. “Because I got to watch you try to wrestle a cobweb like it was a sea monster.”

I gasp, smacking his arm. “I did not!”

“You totally did.” He’s laughing now, backing away as I go to swat him again. “I swear, I thought you were about to challenge it to a duel.”

“Whatever. You’re such a liar,” I say, shaking my head.

“And yet you like me anyway,” he teases, leaning against the railing, watching me with that look. The one that makes my heart do a stupid, traitorous little flip.

I open my mouth to fire back some witty retort, but the words tangle in my throat. Because he’s right. I do like him. More than I should, more than I ever expected to.

“I do.”

And I think I’m starting to be okay with that.

The moment stretches between us, charged and undeniable. His hand brushes against mine, and I don’t pull away.

“You know,” he says, voice softer now, “I like this version of you.”

I swallow. “What version is that?”

He tilts his head slightly. “The one that laughs so easily. The one who races me up a lighthouse and talks about throwing me to seagulls. The one who looks like she actually belongs somewhere.”

Something in my chest tightens, the words hitting deeper than I expected. Because the truth is, I’ve spent so much of my life feeling out of place, trying to fit into a mold that never quite felt right. But here, with Anson, in this lighthouse above the sea, I feel like me.

And it terrifies me.

“Anson,” I start, but I don’t know what I’m trying to say.

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