All Chapters of Where The Summer Wind Blows (book One): Chapter 21 - Chapter 29

My pulse won’t settle. Gavin hasn’t broken eye contact once, and every second of silence feels louder than Eben’s failed humor.“Unbelievable,” he mutters, not really to anyone, but it slices through the air anyway. “You sit there looking at each other like—like—” He cuts himself off, shaking his head, feet slapping against the old boards.My throat’s dry, my hands fisted in my lap. Gavin hasn’t moved. He’s just watching me, still, like Josh’s words are background noise.Josh spins around, pointing at him now. “Are you serious right now? Because if you’re serious, Gav, then just say it. Don’t play games with her. Don’t play games with me.”The silence between Gavin and me thickens, heavy as the heat before a storm. I can feel everyone else—Eben shifting, Gemma holding her breath—but none of it matters. Not with the way Gavin’s eyes are locked on mine.“Josh,” I finally whisper, but my voice breaks before I can finish.He stops pacing, just for a second, his chest rising and falling ha

[Ari]The room was quiet, save for the sound of the old house creaking and the steady rhythm of Gavin’s heart against my ear. His hand moved in slow, absent circles on my back, the kind of touch that was supposed to be grounding. And it was—at least enough to keep me from falling apart.But I wasn’t asleep. Not even close. My body felt heavy with exhaustion, yet my mind spun too fast, too loud, like it might give me away.I’d asked him to stay, to lay with me, and the second the words slipped out, I thought I might choke on them. But he didn’t hesitate, didn’t ask why—I barely got the sentence out before he agreed. That alone nearly undid me.Because this was Gavin. The boy who had always been steady where I wavered, who carried so much hurt but still found space for me. Lying here, breathing him in, I knew I loved him. I had for longer than I dared to admit. And yet—My lips still tingled with the ghost of something I never asked for. Something I never wanted. Eben’s mistake. My mist

[Ari]The first slam made me jump, the sound rattling through the hallway like a warning shot. A beat later, another door slammed, harder this time. The silence that followed was almost worse, heavy and stretched thin.Mom and Marianne both looked up from the couch, mid-conversation, their smiles fading. I froze too, hugging my knees where I sat curled beside Mom.Then Gavin appeared.He stepped out of the hallway, his face pale, his expression carved sharp like stone. His jaw was tight, his shoulders stiff, his eyes carrying that look I’d only seen after fights with his dad—half fury, half defeat.But he didn’t say a word.He leaned against the doorframe for a second, dragging a hand through his hair like the weight of the world was pressing down. For the smallest moment, his eyes flicked to mine—just a glance, but enough to make my heart lurch. He looked… tired. Worn down in a way I’d never seen.I opened my mouth, but no sound came.“Everything okay?” Marianne asked carefully, her

Gemma nodded, hugging her knees. “If it’s something private, just say so. But don’t act like we’re imagining it. Because we’re not.”My throat tightened. I opened my mouth—then closed it again. The words sat too close to the surface, too sharp to risk spilling in front of them.Before I could say anything, Gavin finally exhaled, low and steady. “Some things aren’t ready to be explained yet.” His voice was calm, but his hand curled into a fist against his thigh, a betraying edge. “And when they are… you’ll understand.”The porch went quiet again, the ocean filling in the space where answers should’ve been.Eben leaned back with a sigh, like he wanted to push harder but knew better. Gemma bit her lip, watching me carefully, like she could see through my silence.The silence stretched, the kind that didn’t feel peaceful but heavy, restless. I shifted on the porch step, suddenly hyper-aware that Eben and Gemma weren’t just my friends—they were family, the kind who saw too much without hav

The sun had dropped just low enough that the porch boards were turning amber, the shadows of the railing slicing across them like fingers reaching for the night. Ari leaned back in her chair, the warm evening air curling around her like a blanket, and she could hear the faint hum of cicadas threading through the yard.Gavin’s hand was in hers, thumb brushing over her knuckles in the slow, steady rhythm that always seemed to anchor her. He was quiet now, unusually so, staring toward the house, where light spilled from the kitchen windows in soft squares.“Do you hear that?” he asked, voice low, cautious.“What?” Ari tilted her head, trying to catch his meaning.“Inside,” he said, a thread of unease in his voice. “Sounds… different. Not bad, not weird, just…” He trailed off, squinting toward the kitchen window. “…like there’s something heavy in the air.”Eben snorted, legs stretched out lazily, but even he shifted slightly, catching the faint tension. “You’re reading too much into it,” h