The next morning, Evelyn found herself standing in front of the small community hall near the beach, a flyer clutched in her hand. The town was hosting a beach cleanup event, a tradition in Seraphine Bay to preserve the coastline that had shaped the town's very identity. It was a perfect way to get involved, to shake off the last remnants of her city life and try to put down roots in a place that once felt like home.
Amelia had practically dragged her out the door that morning, offering an enthusiastic, "You can't just hide in your grandmother's cottage forever, Eve. The town's waiting for you to contribute, and who better than an artist?"
With little else to do, Evelyn had reluctantly agreed.
As she walked toward the meeting spot, she noticed several familiar faces, people she hadn't seen in years. Most of them greeted her warmly, their smiles soft but genuine. It was easy to feel at ease here, to feel like part of something bigger. But still, there was a tightness in her chest—a constant reminder that she wasn't the same person she was when she left.
She glanced at the flyer again. "Beach Cleanup: 9 AM sharp. Join us for some sun, sand, and saving the planet!"
When she reached the group gathered near the beach, her eyes immediately sought out the one person she had hoped to avoid.
Callum Greyson stood at the front, his back to the group, scanning the horizon as if he were preparing for a dive. Tall, with shaggy dark hair that fell into his eyes, he was the same as she remembered. Except now there was a quiet intensity in the way he carried himself, something more brooding beneath the surface.
He turned around as if sensing her gaze, his blue eyes locking with hers. For a moment, the world seemed to slow, and Evelyn felt the familiar ache of unspoken words hanging between them. Then, Callum's expression softened, just slightly, before he turned away and began to address the group.
"Alright, everyone," he called out, his voice deep and calm, "let's make this quick and efficient. We've got a lot of ground to cover. Gloves and bags are by the rocks. If anyone sees any sea creatures that need rescuing, let me know."
Evelyn's heart skipped at the sound of his voice. It was exactly how she remembered—calm, steady, with just a hint of warmth. She quickly looked away, focusing on the task at hand. The last thing she needed was to get lost in those eyes again.
She grabbed a pair of gloves and a bag and made her way toward the edge of the beach, hoping the distance between them would help her focus. But as she bent down to pick up a piece of driftwood, she heard footsteps behind her.
"I didn't think you'd show up," came Callum's voice, a mix of surprise and something else she couldn't quite place.
Evelyn straightened up, her back stiff. "I wasn't planning to," she said, her voice a little sharper than she intended. "But it seemed like the right thing to do."
Callum didn't respond immediately, and for a moment, they stood in an awkward silence, both of them glancing out at the crashing waves.
"I'm glad you did," he said finally, his tone softening. "The beach needs all the help it can get."
She nodded but didn't say anything more. What was there to say? The last time they'd spoken, things had ended… badly. No matter how much time had passed, the weight of their unspoken history still lingered like an open wound.
As the cleanup progressed, Evelyn found herself reluctantly drawn into conversations with the other volunteers, but her thoughts kept drifting back to Callum. She couldn't help but notice how effortlessly he moved, commanding attention without even trying. He was organizing the group, pointing people toward areas that needed the most attention, but there was a distance in his movements, as if he were always just slightly apart from everyone else.
Evelyn tried not to stare, but she couldn't help herself. He was still beautiful in that rugged, quiet way—more so now, perhaps, with the lines of responsibility etched into his features. He had always been the one with a quiet strength, the kind that drew people to him, the kind that made her believe they could conquer anything together.
But that was before. Before everything changed.
She bent down to pick up another piece of trash, avoiding looking at him directly. The memories were sharp and painful, especially the way they had ended. He hadn't just left. He had disappeared without a word, as though he had never meant to be a part of her life in the first place.
"Hey, Evelyn," Callum's voice broke through her thoughts again. This time, he was standing just a few feet away, his eyes focused on the water. "If you're interested, I could use your help with something."
She hesitated, wiping her hands on her jeans. "What do you need?"
"There's a bunch of old fishing nets farther down the beach. They're not just an eyesore; they're a real hazard for the wildlife around here. I'd appreciate it if you could help me get them out."
Evelyn knew it wasn't really a question. Callum wasn't one to ask for help unless he needed it. She nodded, her heart thumping in her chest.
"Alright," she said, keeping her tone even. "Let's get to it."
They walked in silence toward the spot Callum had mentioned, the tension between them thickening with every step. When they reached the nets, the task of untangling them proved more difficult than she expected. The fibers were thick and knotted, like a metaphor for the unresolved mess between them.
As they worked side by side, their hands brushed occasionally, sending an unexpected jolt through her. She fought to keep her focus on the nets, but the proximity of his presence—the familiar warmth, the scent of the sea and earth that clung to him—was too much.
Finally, Callum broke the silence. "I didn't mean to hurt you, you know."
Evelyn's breath caught. She hadn't expected him to say anything, especially not so directly. She turned to face him, her heart hammering in her chest.
"I'm not asking for forgiveness," he continued, his voice soft but firm. "I just—" He stopped, as if choosing his words carefully. "I didn't want to leave the way I did. But I had to."
Her throat tightened, and for a moment, she couldn't speak.
"I don't want to talk about it," she finally said, her voice trembling despite her efforts to remain composed.
Callum's gaze dropped, the weight of his apology hanging in the air between them. "I understand. But I'm here now. If you ever… if you ever want to talk, I'm around."
Evelyn didn't answer. She just turned away and resumed pulling at the net, her hands shaking as she fought to ignore the growing ache in her chest.