Page 35 of Summer’s Echo

Echo

The memory of our first time quietly danced between us as our foreheads kissed.

It had always been a distinct honor to know that I was Summer’s first, that she trusted me with something so precious—her treasure.

That night, I knew. I knew that I loved Summer Knight.

It was the way she could gaze at the endless sky for hours without a word and how she painted the soft blues of the clouds drifting lazily above us.

I loved how only the two of us shared a place tucked deep in the heart of the woods where time slowed, worries faded, and the quiet magic of the earth waited for us to admire it together.

And all these years later, no matter how hard I tried, the shit wouldn’t go away.

Yeah, I tried. I tried fucking it away in college, burying the ache beneath meaningless bodies, running up in just about any girl with a pulse and half a brain, hoping one of them would make me forget.

The cycle repeated when I moved to LA. It was a new city, new distractions, but the same damn ghost of that one summer haunting me.

Then Kourtni came along, and for a moment, I thought she was the cure—that her pull was strong enough to erase Summer from the deepest parts of me.

But after Brooke and Seth’s wedding, I realized that the amnesia had only ever been temporary because the second I saw Summer’s face, the moment I heard her voice, every buried memory was resurrected, ripping through me like the pages from a torn diary— our diary —filled with recollections I had no business holding on to.

And yet, there they were. She was still there.

Summer was caged between my arms, her back pressed against the wall in my bedroom as we focused on each other.

But it wasn’t restraint, it was gravity pulling us closer.

We dallied there, in a space between her fears and our undeniable truth.

Her admission and my confession of love still hung heavy in the room.

An unspoken question lingered in the worried crease in her brow.

Where do we go from here? While my breathless panting answered without words: “We go, and we find forever.”

Unhurriedly, I stroked her face, still moist from tears.

I tenderly kissed her lips, allowing them to dwell there as I brushed away a stray curl from her gorgeous face.

She looked up at me, her eyes shaded with dread, yet burning with desire, a war waging between what she wanted and what she thought was right.

I pressed my lips to hers again, teasing, savoring because while every part of me was eager to devour her—to make her mine in every way—I knew.

I knew that if I took her now, if I let my hunger overtake me, I’d only be adding another layer to her mess…

becoming another complication. So, I held back, just barely.

Summer was always in her head, always overthinking, her mind a maze of doubts and what-ifs. I knew I had to go slow with her, had to be patient—careful with every word, every touch. If I pushed too hard, she’d retreat. If I moved too fast, she’d convince herself this wasn’t real.

“I missed you,” I said, still holding her against the wall. “I missed you so much, Sun.” I said it again, then again, like a mantra, like a promise, hoping my words could drown out whatever storm she was caught in.

She exhaled in a quiet surrender, but I knew she was still fighting, still trying to reconcile the pull between her heart and her head. So, I just held her, let my hands speak where words might fail. Somewhere deep down, I believe she missed me, too.

Soft kisses grew deeper, more urgent. Their gentle rhythm shifting into something more desperate.

Our tongues became reacquainted, rediscovering each other with familiarity because their favorite lover had returned.

I tasted her, savoring the way she melted into me.

My lips sealed around her tongue, sucking it in and out of my mouth, enjoying the quiet moans vibrating between us.

I halted, just for a moment, just long enough to catch my breath.

Slowly, I pulled away from her mouth, guiding my lips over the curve of her chin before slipping lower down the smooth column of her neck.

Her sweet, nostalgic scent was intoxicating.

I breathed her in, pressing open-mouthed kisses against her skin, letting my lips map the places they once knew by heart.

My mind and body were at war, urging me to stop.

I had to remind her—shit, remind myself—that she wasn’t reckless.

She wasn’t the type to be a defiant bride or a cheater.

That wasn’t my Sun. But damn it, I couldn’t resist her.

I couldn’t resist this . The soft curves of the girl had transformed into the graceful, shapely allure of a woman.

Every dip, every line of her body was etched into my memory.

My hands knew her without thought, without hesitation.

So familiar, they knew exactly where to go.

Although I wanted her ass bad, something deeper, something stronger held me back.

I needed her, yes, but more than that, I neededusto mean something again.

My body roared with need, my dick screaming at me to keep going, to experience her again in the most intimate way.

Every inch of me throbbed to bury myself so deeply inside her that the years apart would fade to nothingness.

The girl Summer had been the sweetest indulgence for my eighteen-year-old mind, but the woman before me now—thisSummer—she was an extravagant smorgasbord of decadence, a feast I had no business craving, yet one I was helplessly drawn to.

I traced the path I’d taken before years ago.

My hand traveled the familiar slope of her back, the other sliding across the curve of her ass—kneading, claiming, remembering.

Nothing had changed about my Sunshine. She was still just as soft, just as warm, just as perfect as before.

She trembled under my touch, her body responding in ways that had me teetering on the border of control.

My fingers explored, coaxing her back to me, back to this moment.

I needed her to feel it the way I did, without reservations, without fear.

“I love you. I never stopped,” I said, my voice raw and unguarded. The words fell like a confession, heavy with longing, regret, and an unshakable truth that had never wavered.

Her breath hitched. Wide eyes met mine, searching for doubt, maybe even hesitance. But she wouldn’t find any. I meant every word. I always had.

“Echo,” she said, voice wobbly. “I love you, too.”

She was just as beautiful, just as intoxicating as she’d been that first night. And this time, I wasn’t letting her go. Not again.

Summer

October 2019, The Day After the Wedding that Wasn’t

“Are you okay, sis?”my sister Raqi asked.

I had called her toget a read on the mood at home before walking into it. I needed to knowwhat category of stormI was about to face.

“That’s a loaded question,” I said, wiping my mouth after brushing my teeth. I was still in Echo’s childhood bedroom, slowly pulling myself together to face the day.

“Have you talked to him?” she continued to probe.

I didn’t have to ask who him was. I shook my head as if she could see me.

“No, not yet.” I sighed, smoothing lotion over my face. “I need to see Mama and Daddy first, then I’ll call him.”

“Okay. See you soon. Love you, Pooh,” Raqi said.

“I love you, too.”

I wrapped myself in a towel and sat on the bed, stilling for a moment.

The smell of bacon curled through the air, teasing my stomach.

Echo insisted on making breakfast before driving me to my parents’ house, and the thought made my chest tighten.

I still couldn’t believe I’d spent the night in this house—or that I was walking around this room half-naked like I had a right to.

The twenty unread texts and countless missed calls told me it was time.

No more delaying. No more pretending. And if the waters weren’t already muddy enough, I had confessed my love for Echo.

I told him. I admitted that it had always been him—the man I saw beside me in my dreams, the one I had never quite let go of.

After Brooke’s wedding, I couldn’t shake the feeling of Echo, couldn’t ignore how easily he still slipped under my skin.

Our exchange had been brief, but once again, he’d left a lasting impression, the way only he ever had.

I’d had my fair share of relationships, but none of them ever compared to Echo.

He was my first everything. All those years ago, that boy had planted something in my heart that I’d never allowed to bloom with another man—until Deshawn.

Or so I thought. Deshawn was a good man at an okay time, and I had let my biological clock make a decision my heart should have controlled.

It was an awful excuse, but it was my ugly truth—and today, I would finally be honest with him.

“Hey.” The sound of Echo’s voice pulled me from my thoughts. He stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets, watching me the way he always had—like he saw everything.

I zipped up the hoodie he’d given me to wear, offering a closed-mouth smile. “Hey.”

“You good?” he asked.

I shrugged because I wasn’t good or bad. I was just eager to get through this day and the next one without too much damage.

“I hear you.” He nodded, smiling softly, like he could read every emotion I hadn’t voiced.

Echo extended his hand, palm up, ready to receive me.

I exhaled, grateful that in the middle of this storm, I had at least one anchor.

I grabbed my purse and then his hand. He pulled me into his frame, warm and solid, supporting me without words.

Pressing his lips to my temple, he murmured, “I got you, Summer. You hear me?” His fingers tilted my chin, urging my eyes to his. I swallowed hard, nodding.