HIDDEN HEARTS

The tires of Lena’s old Volvo crunched over the gravel driveway as she pulled up to the Hart estate. The house loomed ahead, all sharp angles and floor-to-ceiling windows, perched on the edge of the cliff like it was daring the ocean to knock it down. Home. Or at least, it was supposed to be. Lena killed the engine and sat for a moment, gripping the steering wheel. Three months away at college, and she’d almost convinced herself she could come back without feeling it—the twist in her gut every time she saw him. A gust of wind rattled the car door. The Pacific roared below, waves slamming against the rocks. Seaside Hollow was beautiful in that wild, untamed way, all salt-stained wood and stormy skies. It suited the Harts. Especially Ethan. Lena sucked in a breath and shoved the car door open. The wind immediately tangled in her dark curls, whipping them across her face. She grabbed her duffel bag from the backseat and trudged toward the house. The front door swung open before she could knock. “Lena!” Her mother, Sophia, beamed, arms outstretched. She smelled like lavender and expensive sunscreen, her blonde hair perfectly smooth despite the wind. “You’re early!” Lena let herself be pulled into a hug. “No traffic.” Sophia squeezed her tighter. “I missed you.” Over her mother’s shoulder, Lena saw him. Ethan Hart leaned against the staircase, arms crossed, watching her with that unreadable expression she’d spent years trying to decipher. He wore a gray Henley rolled up to his elbows, exposing the tattoos she’d traced with her fingertips in a dozen guilty daydreams. His dark hair was longer than she remembered, falling slightly over his forehead. Their eyes locked. Her stomach dropped. Then he blinked, and the moment shattered. “Lena,” he said, nodding. His voice was deeper than it had been in her memories. “Ethan.” She forced a smile. “You’re still here.” A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Where else would I be?” Sophia looped an arm through Lena’s, oblivious to the tension. “Come inside! Daniel’s grilling salmon, and Ethan brought wine from that vineyard you like—” “I’ve got work,” Ethan interrupted, pushing off the stairs. He didn’t look at Lena as he brushed past, close enough that she caught the scent of him—cedar and something faintly metallic, like the ocean at night. The front door clicked shut behind him. Sophia sighed. “He’s been like that all week. Moody.” Because I was coming home, Lena thought. The house was too quiet without Ethan in it. Lena unpacked in her old room—the one that still felt like a guest room, despite the three years since her mother married Daniel Hart. The walls were bare except for a single painting she’d done in high school, a stormy seascape that Ethan had once said reminded him of her. “All that chaos under the surface.” She shoved the memory away and flopped onto the bed. The ceiling fan spun lazily, doing nothing to cut through the sticky coastal heat. A knock at the door. “Come in.” Daniel poked his head in, his salt-and-pepper hair slightly mussed from the grill. “Welcome back, kid.” Lena sat up. “Hey, Daniel.” He stepped inside, holding out a sweating glass of lemonade. “Figured you could use this after the drive.” She took it. “Thanks.” Daniel hesitated, then sat on the edge of her bed. “Listen… about Ethan.” Lena’s fingers tightened around the glass. “He’s been under a lot of pressure at the firm,” Daniel continued. “Don’t take the brooding personally.” Brooding. That was one word for it. “I won’t,” she lied. Daniel patted her knee and stood. “Dinner in twenty.” When he was gone, Lena set the lemonade aside untouched and crossed to the window. The backyard stretched down to the cliff’s edge, where Ethan stood alone, staring at the water. She wondered if he could feel her watching him. He always used to. Dinner was strained. Daniel grilled, Sophia chattered about her latest charity event, and Ethan said exactly seven words the entire meal. “Pass the salt.” “No, thanks.” “I’ll clean up.” Lena stabbed at her salmon. “So,” Sophia said brightly, “Claire stopped by yesterday.” Ethan’s fork clattered against his plate. Lena froze. Claire. Ethan’s ex. The one who’d dumped him a year ago and immediately started dating his college roommate. The one who still texted him at 2 a.m., judging by the notifications Lena had accidentally seen last Christmas. “She’s back in town,” Sophia continued, oblivious. “Apparently, she’s working at some new art gallery in Portland.” Daniel frowned. “Why was she here?” Ethan wiped his mouth with a napkin. “No idea. I wasn’t home.” Lena didn’t miss the way his knuckles whitened around his water glass. Sophia waved a hand. “Oh, she just wanted to catch up! She asked about you, Lena.” Lena forced a laugh. “Why?” “Said she always thought you and Ethan were—” “Mom.” Lena’s voice came out sharper than she intended. Sophia blinked. “What? It’s sweet! She said you two used to be so close.” Ethan stood abruptly. “I’ve got an early meeting.” He took his plate to the kitchen and disappeared down the hall. A moment later, his bedroom door shut with a soft click. Daniel sighed. “Well. That went well.” Lena couldn’t sleep. The house creaked around her, the sound of the waves a constant whisper through the walls. At 1 a.m., she gave up and crept downstairs for water. The kitchen was dark except for the moonlight streaming through the windows. She didn’t bother with a glass, just drank straight from the tap like she used to when she was a kid. “Still do that, huh?” Lena choked, water dripping down her chin. Ethan leaned against the doorway, barefoot, wearing nothing but low-slung sweatpants. The moonlight carved shadows across his chest, highlighting the tattoo over his ribs—a compass, just like the one he’d given her. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “You scared me.” “Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry. Silence stretched between them, thick with everything they wouldn’t say. Lena broke first. “Why was Claire really here?” Ethan’s expression darkened. “Does it matter?” “It does if she’s—” “If she’s what?” He took a step closer. Lena held her ground. “If she’s still in love with you.” Ethan laughed, a low, rough sound. “Yeah. That’d be the problem, wouldn’t it?” She didn’t know what to say to that. Ethan ran a hand through his hair, exhaling sharply. “Go to bed, Lena.” “You first.” For a heartbeat, she thought he might argue. Then he turned and walked away, leaving her alone in the dark. She waited until she heard his door close before whispering, “Welcome home.”