Since 1998

1999

#1999

"It's summer. Why is it raining?"

In 1999, Devin and Allison were glued at the hip. But this summer, Devin couldn't look at her as just a friend anymore. To Allison, though, he was still just Devin—the boy she built sandcastles with.

"I don't know," Devin said, pulling her sleeve toward their driftwood fort. "Let's get inside before the lightning gets close."

A loud crack split the sky. Allison flinched, tucking her knees tightly to her chin.

"Are you scared?"

She looked down at her sandy shins and gave a small nod.

"Don't be," he said, sitting close enough that their shoulders brushed. "The roof is thick. It'll pass."

They sat in the cramped, shadowy fort for a long time, listening to the rain slam against the wood. As the downpour started to let up, Devin’s throat tightened. He had been practicing what to say for weeks. "Allison."

She turned to him, her eyes wide. She already knew exactly what he was trying to say, but she kept quiet, waiting.

Devin swallowed hard, his heart racing. "I... I want to build you something real one day. A glasshouse. Right here on this beach. What do you think?"

"Look!" she said, pointing outside. "The rain stopped! A glasshouse sounds cool, Devin. Good luck with that. Come on, let's go!"

Devin opened his mouth, but the words stayed trapped in his throat as she scrambled ahead of him.

Allison stopped dead at the exit, her body going dead still.

Two shadows stretched over the wet sand, blocking out the sky.

Alex Ainsley stood there in a drenched, tailored suit, his expression hard and empty. Next to him, Devin's uncle kept his hands shoved deep into his pockets. Alex glared down at Devin with pure disgust, then turned away without a single word.

"Dad?" Allison’s voice shook. She knew she was in trouble.

Lauren Ainsley marched onto the wet beach, her high heels sinking deep into the muck. She grabbed Allison roughly by the elbow, pulling her up. "You scared me to death!"

"No! Devin!" Allison yelled, throwing her hand back.

"Allison!" Devin scrambled out of the fort.

Ben Austin stepped in, firmly catching Devin by the shoulders and pulling him back. Their fingers brushed, then slipped apart.

In the middle of the shouting, Lauren looked up from her daughter. Her eyes locked onto Ben’s. It wasn't a glance between strangers. It was a long, heavy, silent stare that seemed to drag on forever.

Tears blurred Devin’s vision as the Ainsleys marched down the beach. A cold weight settled in his stomach.

"Why are they taking her?" Devin sobbed, wiping his face with a sandy sleeve. "She didn't do anything wrong!"

Ben let out a long, shaky breath. "Of all the people in the world, Devin... why did it have to be her?"

"I don't understand, Uncle. We're just best friends."

"There's nothing wrong with it," Ben said, his voice quiet. "It’s just... history repeating itself."

Devin wiped his nose. "I told her she talks like you."

Ben let out a hollow, bitter laugh. "Is that a compliment?"

"I like her, Uncle. But I couldn't say it."

Ben’s laugh died. He looked down at Devin with sudden seriousness. "I just hope you don't end up like me, son. Our old love triangle was a mess. And I didn't win. Good luck."

"Love triangle? What does that even mean?" Devin tugged on his uncle's wet jacket, but Ben didn't answer. His eyes were fixed on the empty beach.

"Uncle, what if we buy this land? I want to buy this whole beach and build that glasshouse."

Ben raised an eyebrow. "Really? So you're finally ready to take the fortune your parents left behind?"

"Yes," Devin said, his young face going completely hard. "Whatever it takes."

"Okay," Ben nodded.

"Thanks, Uncle. From now on, I'll do whatever you tell me to do."

The next day, Devin stood outside the massive iron gates of the Ainsley mansion for twenty minutes, kicking stones.

Finally, Maria walked down the driveway. Her eyes softened with pity as she slipped a folded piece of paper through the iron bars into his hand. "I'm sorry, Devin. You won't be able to see her anymore."

Devin’s heart dropped. "Why? What did I do?"

"It’s not you, young master. You're both just too young."

"That's stupid! We were just playing!"

"I know," Maria whispered, looking back at the dark windows of the house. "We are moving to Spain. But this is the address. Send your letters to me, and I’ll make sure she gets them."

Inside the Ainsley mansion, the silence was deafening.

Upstairs, Lauren sat on the edge of her daughter's bed. Allison lay with her face buried in a pillow, her eyes swollen shut from crying.

Downstairs in the study, Alex Ainsley stood by the window, staring blankly outside. His eyes were bloodshot and dark.

"They're just kids, Alex," Lauren said, walking into the room and closing the door. "They didn't mean anything by it."

"I saw how you looked at him, Lauren," Alex said, his voice barely a whisper. "At Ben."

Lauren froze, unable to answer.

The heavy silence broke when the sharp clack of high heels echoed across the marble foyer. Alex and Lauren stepped out of the study, adjusting their expressions to greet their guest.

"I heard you're leaving for Spain," Olivia Hollingsworth said by way of greeting. "What happens to the business here?"

"I'll be back in six months. Alone," Alex said flatly.

Alex’s gaze dropped to the young boy standing stiffly at Olivia’s side. The kid looked bored, his dark eyes fixed on the floor as if he wanted to be anywhere else in the world.

"Is this Daniel? He's grown so much."

"Daniel," Olivia said, her hand pressing firmly onto her son’s shoulder. "Greet your future father and mother-in-law."

Daniel kept his head down, his posture rigid with silent rebellion before he offered a minimal bow of his head.

A floorboard creaked above them. Allison appeared on the landing, her hair a wild tangle around her shoulders. She peered over the railing, the misery on her face instantly evaporating as she tracked the guests.

"I see," Olivia said, her expression shifting into an icy, satisfied grin. "This must be Allison."

My poor, sweet girl, Lauren thought, her chest aching.

The two children locked eyes across the grand foyer.

Daniel didn't give her a second thought, his gaze hollow and detached. But the moment Allison saw those freezing, distinct eyes, everything clicked. It was him. The boy from the beach. Her unspoken, secret crush was standing right in her living room.

A month later, Devin wrote his first letter.

Dear Allison,

I'm inserting a laugh here with missing teeth. I'm sorry if I don't know what to say. I hope you are smiling now. Don't be sad anymore. We'll see each other again, I promise. This letter is as short as the time we were friends. One fine, short summer.

Bye,

Devin.

In her room in Spain, Allison pressed the note to her chest, her eyes stinging with fresh tears. "Thank you, Maria," she whispered.

Weeks later, Devin practically flew up his driveway, nearly wiping out on the concrete.

A white envelope with blue trim sat inside the mailbox. He snatched it, bolted to his room, and ripped the paper open.

Devin,

I missed you, too. You're making me laugh. Those missing teeth got me for real! I don't know what else to write. Yes, I'll come back. Promise.

Allison.

A flock of butterflies exploded in Devin’s stomach. He reached into his bedside drawer with a shaky hand and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper—a note he had been writing and rewriting for weeks:

Allison, I have been trying to tell you this since the day they took you away. But I just couldn't say it out loud. I really like you, Allison.