“I love storms,” Gray says, watching the swell overtake the sand and slide away. “The devastation is terrible, but it’s also breathtaking. That sort of power…it’s so raw. I used to stay up and marvel at it when I was a kid.”

I sink down into the sand. He takes a seat beside me.

“I know. You wanted to be a weatherman for a while.”

“Right. I did.”

“What else do you love?”

Gray glances at me. “What, you want a list?”

“Sure.” I lean back on my palms.

“I don’t know. Little things, I guess.”

Little things. That’s what he told Marnie made up our spark.

But the list he rattles off doesn’t have anything to do with me.

“Waking up without an alarm. Surfing when the water is flat. Seeing the stars at night. My mom’s peach pie. The feeling when I lift off the runway.”

“That’s a good list.” I stare out at the churning sea.

He lets the topic drop. “I’m going to miss this view.”

“The water looks different down here. Boston was always bleak and busy, it felt like. Plus, there was never any…” I look over at him and lose my train of thought.

Gray isn’t looking at the surf or the palm trees or the white sand. He’s looking at me. In an intense, focused way that makes me think that he didn’t change his focus when I started talking. In a way that makes me think he might have been already looking at me before I said a word.

I love the way he’s looking at me. Like, out of everything on this beach, I’m the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on. I want to photograph this moment and tuck it away to pull out when I’m tired and stressed and questioning every decision I’ve ever made. But right now, I’m suddenly grateful for them all. Every choice that led me to this exact spot, here with him.

He breaks eye contact before I can decide if I’m brave enough to ask. “Did you ever consider staying in Boston?”

“No. Do you ever consider leaving?” It’s something I’ve always wondered about.

His life here feels very temporary. He shares a loft with Emmett. His room sits empty most of the time.

“Yeah.”

My heart sinks at his answer.

“I feel stuck in Charleston. I’m disappointed when we hit the runway at the joint base.”

“Oh.”

“It’s always been that way. I love flying. I love my job. I just saw the ugly side—the scary side—of it right before coming back. That can make you question choices.”

The sky chooses this moment to suddenly open up. A deluge of water drops, immediately soaking everything in sight.

“I guess this is why people had umbrellas,” I shout.