Since 1998

Chapter 2

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

A year had passed, and Devin and Allison had remained inseparable. But this summer, something deeper had shifted inside Devin. For Allison, he was simply her best friend—nothing more. It wasn’t because she was too young for romance; in fact, she had recently developed her first ever crush on a boy whose name she didn't even know.

"I don't know," Devin answered, guiding her toward their woven driftwood fort. "Let's go inside. The storm is getting dangerous."

When lightning split the sky, Allison flinched, pulling her knees to her chest.

"Are you scared?" Devin asked softly.

Allison nodded, looking away in shame.

"Don't be scared," he murmured, his voice steady. "We're safe here. It will pass."

For a long time, they sat in the dim light, listening to the rain thrashing against the wood. As the storm began to calm, Devin's chest tightened. He had been preparing for this exact moment for weeks.

"Allison."

She turned to him, her eyes wide and curious. "Yes?"

Devin's mouth went completely dry. "I... I want to build you something real one day. A glasshouse. Right here on the beach. What do you think?"

"Look!" she interrupted, pointing out the doorway. "The rain stopped! But Devin, a glasshouse sounds amazing. Good luck building it. Come on, let's go outside!"

The moment was gone. Devin watched her crawl toward the exit, his confession dying in his throat.

Allison halted at the passageway, her small frame freezing.

Two men stood over them, their tall silhouettes casting long shadows against the clearing sky. One wore a soaked, expensive suit, his face as unyielding as stone. Standing beside him was Devin's uncle, Ben Austin.

Alex Ainsley glared down at Devin like he was a stray animal stuck to the bottom of his shoe. Without a word, he turned his back.

"Dad?" Allison called out, her knees trembling. She knew she was doomed.

Suddenly, Lauren Ainsley materialized, her high heels sinking deep into the wet sand. She grabbed Allison roughly by the arm. "You scared me to death!"

"No! Devin!" Allison screamed, reaching her hand out.

"Allison!" Devin cried.

Ben Austin stepped forward, firmly but gently pulling Devin back. Their small hands slipped apart.

Amidst the chaos, Lauren's gaze rose from her daughter to meet Ben’s. It wasn't the look of a stranger. It was a heavy, suffocating, stolen gaze.

Tears streamed down Devin's face as he watched the Ainsleys vanish down the beach. A dark, instinctual dread settled deep in his stomach.

"Why are they doing that to Allison?" Devin sobbed. "She didn't do anything wrong!"

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

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

"There's nothing wrong with it, Devin. It’s just... history repeating itself."

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

Ben smirked, a hollow expression crossing his face. "Is that a compliment?"

"I like her, Uncle. But I couldn't tell her."

Ben’s smile vanished, his demeanor snapping into gravity. "Devin, I just hope you don't end up the way I did. Our old love triangle was a legendary tragedy. I didn't win. Best of luck, son."

"Love triangle? What does that even mean?" Devin gripped his uncle's sleeve. "Uncle, what if we buy this land? I want to buy this beach and build that real glasshouse."

Ben raised an eyebrow. "Really? So, you are finally ready to accept the fortune your parents left behind?"

"Yeah," Devin said, his voice hardening with newfound determination. "That's exactly what it means."

"Okay," Ben nodded.

"Thanks, Uncle. I mean it. From now on, I will do whatever you say."

The following day, Devin waited outside the iron Ainsley gates for twenty agonizing minutes. When the nanny, Maria, finally appeared, her eyes were filled with pity.

She pressed a folded note into his palm. "I'm sorry, Devin. You won't be able to see her again."

Devin's face fell. "Why? What did I do?"

"It's not about what you did, young master. Maybe it's just because you're both so young."

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

"I know," Maria whispered softly. "We are leaving for Spain. But this is the address. Send your letters to me, and I will make sure she gets them."

Inside the Ainsley mansion, the air was thin with years of unspoken resentment. Lauren sat on the edge of her daughter's bed, looking at Allison, whose eyes were swollen shut from crying.

Downstairs in the study, Alex Ainsley stood by the window in suffocating silence. His eyes were red, hollow, and dark—the face of a master of suppressed emotion.

"They're just kids, Alex," Lauren said, entering the room. "There was no malice."

"I saw how you looked at him, Lauren," Alex whispered, his voice deadly quiet. "At Ben."

Lauren froze, unable to answer.

The tense silence broke when the sharp click of high heels echoed across the grand marble foyer. The couple stepped out of the office, closing the door firmly behind them to greet their guest.

"I heard you're leaving the States for Spain," Olivia Hollingsworth announced, a calculating smile on her face. "What becomes of the business here?"

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

Alex's gaze drifted down to the boy standing at Olivia's side. The child was a shadow, possessing icy, charcoal eyes and a face already hardening into stone. "Is this Daniel? He's grown into a fine young man."

"Daniel," Olivia commanded, her hand resting on her son's shoulder like a lead weight. "Pay your respects to your future father and mother-in-law."

Daniel obeyed, bowing his head. But behind his blank eyes hid a fierce rebellion he had already learned to mask perfectly.

Suddenly, a sound came from the grand staircase. Allison stood on the landing, her hair messy and her clothes disheveled. As she looked down into the foyer, a tiny, desperate spark of hope caught in her chest.

"I see," Olivia said, her eyes lighting up with cold satisfaction. "This must be Allison."

My poor child, Lauren thought to herself.

Across the grand foyer, the two children locked eyes.

Daniel didn't care at all. But as Allison looked at his icy, familiar eyes, something clicked. It was him. The boy from the beach. Her unspoken crush.

A month later, Devin wrote his first letter.

Dear Allison,

I'm inserting a drawing of my laugh here—missing teeth and all. 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.

When Allison read the note in Spain, tears of joy rolled down her cheeks. "Thank you, Maria," she whispered.

Weeks later, Devin ran up his driveway so fast he nearly tripped over his own boots. Waiting in the mailbox was a white envelope with blue trim and a Spanish postmark. He tore it open in his bedroom.

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.

Butterflies swarmed Devin's stomach. Trembling, he opened the drawer near his bed and pulled out a hidden piece of paper—a confession 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.

He stared at the unsent note, tucking it away safely in the dark.