Ava’s POV

  

  

   The screen door slapped shut behind me as I hauled my duffel bag up the creaky stairs to the loft, the salty ocean air still clinging to my skin from the drive down. 

  

  

   Mom and Dad were already downstairs, Dad firing up the grill while Mom answered some work email on her phone, their voices drifting up like they owned the place. 

  

  

   This beach house had been our spot every late summer since I could remember, but this year felt different—guest rooms gutted for renovations, leaving me and Cade stuck sharing the tiny loft bedroom. 

  

  

   Great. Just what I needed, bunking with my stepbrother for a whole weekend.

  

  

   ...