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“My dad was an alcoholic,” he said, his voice steady but low. “It got worse after I was born, and when I was four, he agreed to go to rehab. That was the last time we saw him.”

My chest ached for him and Liz. I reached across the table and took his hand, my fingers curling around his.

“Have you ever tried to find him?” I asked, not pushing, just curious.

He shook his head slowly.

“As far as I’m concerned, he’s the one who left, so he should be the one to come back. Besides, it’s no secret where I am a good chunk of the year. I’m not exactly hard to find if he was looking.”

I gave his hand a light squeeze, then let go. He didn’t say anything else, but I could tell it wasn’t the first time he’d told that story, just maybe the first time in a while.

We finished eating in a thoughtful kind of silence, not heavy exactly, but it lingered. The server came back to clear our plates and asked if we had room for dessert. I leaned back with a laugh and rested my hand on my stomach.

“I’m stuffed,” I said.

Sam handled the check, and when we stepped outside, the night air felt cool and fresh. He looked over at me and tilted his head toward the water.

“Want to walk a bit?”

I smiled.

“Yeah, that sounds perfect.”

Sam walked beside me, our shoulders occasionally brushing as we followed the curve of the riverwalk. The lampposts cast pools of amber light every twenty feet or so, just enough to guide our way without drowning out the stars above.

“So did you come down here a lot when you lived in Wilmington?” he asked.

“When I first moved here I did, but after that, not so much. Especially after I decided to move and wanted to save money, so it wasn’t in my budget.

” I shrugged, glancing out at the lights reflecting off the water.

“I lived here for almost six years. That’s actually the longest I’ve lived anywhere.

” I smiled a little, like I was letting him in on a secret.

“But somehow, Starlight Shores feels more like home. It just fits in a way nowhere else ever has.”

Sam nodded like he understood that too well. He let the silence stretch a beat before asking, “You mentioned that your parents lived in Germany while you were in college. Are they still there?”

“No, they’re in Alexandria, Virginia now. My dad got assigned to the Pentagon two years ago.”

“Do you see them often?”

“A few times a year, but I talk to them a couple times a week.”

We continued walking in silence. A breeze stirred my hair, and I tucked the strands behind my ear, sneaking a glance at Sam. He looked peaceful. Relaxed. Like maybe this was exactly what he’d needed.

We passed a few pubs, laughter and conversation spilling from open doors. One had a chalkboard sign out front boasting live music, and the sound of the band filtered into the night.

Sam glanced at me with a grin.

“Want to check it out?”

I nodded and we slipped inside. He placed his hand gently against the small of my back as we navigated through the crowded entrance. The band occupied a small stage in the corner and Sam guided me to a small table in the corner on the opposite side of the room.

The last notes of Take It Easy by The Eagles finished and I clapped as I settled into my chair.

“What would you like to drink?" Sam asked.

“A seltzer with lime.”

“I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared into the crowd toward the bar.

I watched him go, admiring how easily he moved through the space, confident but never pushy.

While he was gone, the band started playing American Girl by Tom Petty.

The song always reminds me of the beginning of The Silence of the Lambs , but regardless, I found myself tapping my fingers against the wooden table in time with the rhythm.

When Sam returned, he set a tall glass with bubbles and lime in front of me and kept what looked like a cola for himself.

“Thanks,” I said.

It was too loud to keep up a real conversation, so we just settled in and listened.

The band was really good, playing one crowd-pleaser after another from the 70s, 80s, and 90s.

Each song felt like a little trip down memory lane, and I couldn’t help but smile.

At some point, Sam moved a little closer, resting his arm gently on the back of my chair.

I felt a flutter of warmth, a quiet reassurance in the simple closeness between us.

When the lead singer announced they were taking a break, the spell broke a little. The house lights came up slightly, and recorded music filtered through the speakers at a much lower volume. I finished my drink and stifled a yawn.

“Want to head out?” he asked.

“Yeah, I guess we should.”

We walked back to the truck, and he opened the passenger-side door and held my hand as I stepped inside, just like he did when he picked me up. The drive back was quiet, easy. I felt settled. The kind of calm that comes after a good laugh, a good walk, and a good night.

When he pulled into my driveway and shifted into park, the truck suddenly felt very small. He turned to me, the dashboard lights casting soft shadows across his face.

“Thanks for a great night, Hope.” His voice was lower than usual. “I had a really good time.”

“Me too,” I said softly.

“I'd really like to do this again sometime.”

“I'd like that too,” I said, and meant it with every fiber of my being.

Our eyes locked, and the world seemed to slow around us. Then Sam leaned across the console, slowly enough that I could have pulled away if I wanted to. I didn't want to.

The kiss was soft, slow. Not rushed, not uncertain, just…

intentional. His hand slid up to cradle my cheek, his thumb brushing a lazy path along my skin.

The kiss deepened slowly, gaining confidence, his lips warm and tender.

I caught the subtle taste of cola and something else I couldn’t name, something that was all him.

When he finally pulled away, I blinked, dazed, suddenly aware I hadn’t taken a breath in what felt like forever.

“I should walk you to your door,” he murmured.

He stepped out of the truck, came around, and helped me out. The short walk up the path to my front porch felt electric. I fumbled with my keys, hyper-aware of his presence behind me. When I finally got the door unlocked, I turned to face him, my heart thudding in my chest.

“Would you like to come in for a drink?”

The words left my mouth before I could overthink them.

Sam's eyes darkened slightly.

“I'd love to, but it probably isn't a good idea.”

“Probably not,” I agreed, though part of me wanted to argue.

Then he stepped forward, closing the distance between us again.

This time when he kissed me, there was nothing tentative about it.

One of his hands slipped around my waist, pulling me against him while the other tangled in my hair.

My back pressed against the door frame as our bodies aligned perfectly, chest to chest, hip to hip, and I could feel every inch of him solid, warm, there.

My hands slid up his chest, anchoring myself as his mouth moved against mine. There was more pressure this time. More need. The rough edge of his beard brushed against my cheek and jaw, sending shivers through me. My heart hammered as our bodies pressed together.

When his tongue traced the seam of my lips, I opened to him with a small sound that would have embarrassed me if I'd been capable of feeling anything beyond the sensations he was creating.

Time disappeared. There was only the taste of him, the scent of his cologne mingled with something earthy and male, the feel of his body against mine. When he finally pulled away, it felt like surfacing from underwater.

We stood there breathing heavily, foreheads touching. His eyes were darker than I'd ever seen them, pupils expanded so that only a thin ring of color remained.

“I should go,” he whispered. “Goodnight Hope.”

He brushed one more feather-light kiss across my lips before stepping back, breaking the connection between us except for his hand, which had slid down to intertwine with mine.

“I'll talk to you tomorrow?”

The question in his voice made my heart flip.

“Sounds good.”

That said, he nodded and as I watched him walk back to his truck, with the night air cooling my flushed skin, I knew something fundamental in my life had shifted. Whatever path I'd been on before tonight had just forked, and I'd chosen a direction that led straight to him.

The thought should have terrified me, but as I touched my fingertips to my still-tingling lips, all I felt was impatience for tomorrow to arrive.