“The fear part only come when it’s love,” Aunt Lottie would always say in the kind of broken English others noticed but I never did. “The kind of love that burrow so deep, it transform you. If you lose it, it feel like losing a part of yourself, too.”

That feeling is personified in my stomach right now, and not in the way I expected her advice to come true—about some boy, about Declan. Instead, that full-bodied, love-fueled fear was stirring awake because of her.

“I just want to warn you. Things will look a little different when you get here.” My mom’s voice fills the car speaker.

“I know. It’s— That’s fine. I’ll be there in twenty. Love you, Mom,” I say in a rush, finger hovering over the red button.

She sighs like mothers sigh when they know they can’t protect their daughters from inevitable pain. “Okay, then. I love you more, sweetie. See you soon.”

The call ends, and I swallow hard, readjusting my grip on the steering wheel. A two-lane highway stretches before me, kissing a steep cliff that slopes toward waves that crash against the shore.

As I drive through the tunnel that transports you from vast, open skies to a town that feels too cozy not to be fiction, I force myself to perceive its beauty like the travelers who flock here every summer might. An overhang of trees makes it seem like the town is wearing a beret, and flowers in bloom seemingly all year dot the quaint cottages that look like they’re built by fairies.