First message
She had always called him Uncle — her father’s best friend, the steady presence at every birthday and family crisis. Older. Forbidden. Family.
But at her father’s summer party, everything changed.
String lights glowed over the backyard as he stepped onto the deck in a black button-down, silver threading his dark hair, broad shoulders filling the shirt. His intense gaze found hers across the pool and held.
Her heart slammed. For the first time, she saw him — not as the man who once carried her on his shoulders, but as him: sharp jaw, powerful build, quiet danger in his slow smile.
The line between them blurred in the warm night air.
She was falling.
And she didn’t want to stop.