RILEY.

The old wooden cabin smelled like pine, smoke, and too many years of family secrets. I stepped out of Dad’s SUV, boots crunching on the gravel, my cropped black hoodie already riding up my stomach. Mom and Dad were already inside arguing about groceries. My brother Ethan was hauling bags, laughing at something on his phone.

And then there was Jax.

He leaned against the porch railing like he owned the damn mountain, black ink crawling up both arms, a cigarette dangling from his lips. Twenty-eight. My brother’s best friend since they were kids. The guy who used to sneak me beers when I was sixteen and now looked...