~Chapter 1~
The South Carolina coastline in the summer of 1998 smelled of salt and suffocating heat, even at midnight. Eleven-year-old Devin sat buried to his ankles in the cool dune grass, staring out at the black expanse of the Atlantic. The ocean was too vast, the sky too choked with stars, and somewhere in all that crushing infinity, Devin wondered if God was looking back. Or if He even existed at all.
Beside him, Uncle Ben pointed toward the horizon. "Look, Devin. A shooting star. Make a wish."
Devin squeezed his eyes shut. I wish they'd come back.
He didn't need to open his eyes to know it was useless. A storm surge had swallowed his parents two years ago, and no amount of falling rocks in the sky would ever spit them back out.
Ben shifted in the sand, the stiff fabric of his tailored trousers rustling. At thirty-two, Ben Austin was a man built for boardrooms, wrapping his solemn, solitary life in the armor of expensive nineties power suits. He was a young billionaire who commanded empires, yet here he was, sitting cross-legged in the dirt, the knees of his Italian slacks ruined, just trying to be a father to a broken boy.
"What did you wish for, Uncle Ben?"
"That you'd smile more often. You deserve that, at least."
Devin met his uncle's eyes, then looked away. He had nothing to give him.
Days later, the beach was bright and loud. Ben found Devin retreating down the shoreline, putting distance between himself and a group of kids building sandcastles.
"Hey," Ben called out. "Don't you want to play?"
Devin didn't stop walking. "Nah. I just want to be alone, Uncle. Just this once."
Ben released a heavy breath, swallowed by the coastal wind. He offered a defeated nod and stepped back. He'd learned not to push.
Devin kept walking until the noise of the crowd faded into nothing but the rhythmic crash of the waves. Finally, quiet.
Then, a streak of crimson slashed across the blue sky.
Devin stopped. A kite was tumbling violently toward the earth, its tail spinning out of control. Beneath it, a girl—maybe ten years old—ran frantically, struggling with the string.
She was losing. The kite hit the sand with a sad thump.
Devin walked over and picked it up. But as he straightened, the girl came into focus—strands of her hair scattered by the wind—and something in his chest shifted.
She had long blonde hair caught in the sea breeze, tangled with sand and salt. Her skin was sun-kissed, her eyes a striking blue-green that seemed to contain entire oceans. She was small-framed and fierce, moving with the kind of unselfconscious grace that belonged to children who didn't yet know how to apologize for taking up space.
When she glared at him, hands on her hips, breathing hard-something about her lit him up in a way he couldn't explain.
"Hello? Are you gonna give me my kite or just stand there holding it?"
Devin blinked, momentarily speechless.
"Are you mute or deaf?" she demanded.
"I'm not-here's your kite."
She inspected the tail critically. "Thanks. I'm Allison, by the way. My name came from my ancestors."
"Your... ancestors?"
"Yeah. My nanny told me. What did your ancestors give you?"
Devin laughed. "You're way too young to be talking about ancestors. Even for a genius kid, that's impossible."
"I'm ten," she said indignantly. "I'm not a toddler, though even a toddler can be smarter than an average adult. I grew up in a mansion full of books and tutors."
"Ten? You talk like my uncle!" Devin chuckled at his own joke. "Right. I get it, Miss Allison. Born with a silver spoon. Well, me too, but I don't care." He grinned. "I'm Devin. I can help you with that kite if you want."
"But you're a stranger, Mr. Devin."
What he just heard made him laugh in his stomach. "Can I be your friend then?"
She considered this with extreme gravity. "Okay. Now show me how to fly it."
"Bossy, aren't you?"
"Look over there-that's my nanny, and she's also kind of my bodyguard."
Devin shook his head, amused. He took the kite and showed her how to feel the wind, letting the breeze carry it instead of fighting. Within minutes, it was soaring.
"Cool! It's the first time I've seen it soar so high. Do you have superpowers?" Allison asked.
"Superpowers?" He laughed. "What are you talking about?"
"You heard me."
They spent a few moments running along the shore. For the first time in two years, Devin felt light.
When the sun began to sink, a woman's voice called out: "Ali!"
"Oh! Maria is calling me." Allison handed him the string. "I have to go. See you tomorrow?"
"Yeah. See you tomorrow."
From a distance, Ben watched his nephew. For the first time, the boy was truly smiling. But that smile from Allison reminded him of someone familiar.
---
From that day on, the beach became their sanctuary. They built sandcastles, collected shells, and talked.
"Let's build a fort," Devin suggested one day.
"A real one?"
"As real as we can make it."
They dragged driftwood and abandoned crates to the dunes. By sunset, they had a tiny, lopsided house. Allison crawled inside and sprawled on the sand. "Now I can live here!"
Devin laughed. "Just you. I'm going home."
"That's okay. My nanny's right there." She pointed to Maria, who was sitting on a towel, glancing over at them occasionally. Allison leaned in and whispered, "Did you know she has three boyfriends? She's always laughing on the phone."
Devin roared with laughter. "Does she really? At first, I thought she was your mom. Your mom's not around much?"
"She's at work. Always. Even though we're really rich." Allison picked at the sand. "She kisses me before she leaves, though."
Her voice sounded small. Lonely. Devin knew that sound.
"Devin?" Allison said quietly. "Where are your mom and dad? Can I meet them?"
The question hit like a stone.
Devin looked at the ocean. He didn't want to lie. "They're in heaven," he said simply.
Allison's eyes went wide. "What are they doing in heaven?"
He couldn't help it. "They went shopping."
"Really?" She sat up, dead serious. "My parents have never been to heaven. I'm gonna ask if we can go there, too."
Devin laughed until his sides hurt. "No, no-heaven isn't a mall. You can't just visit."
"Then what is it?"
He told her. He described the peace, the beauty, and the idea of them watching from above. Allison listened, her face thoughtful. When he finished, she grabbed his hand. "Give me your pinky."
"What?"
"Your pinky. Come on."
He hooked his finger with hers.
"Let's make a promise," she said solemnly. "When you grow up-as old as my dad-you have to marry me. Like my dad married my mom."
Devin stared. "Seriously?"
"I am! Promise!"
"Okay, okay. I promise."
She beamed. "Good. Now it's official."
---
That evening, Devin came home glowing.
Ben spotted him from the porch. "What's with the grin? Hungry? I made cookies."
Devin followed him in. "Can I take some to the beach tomorrow?"
Ben raised an eyebrow. "For her?"
"Yeah."
"She's becoming pretty special, huh? What's her family name again?"
"Ainsley."
Ben paused, the juice bottle hovering mid-air. "Ainsley?"
"Why? You seem surprised, Uncle."
"Nothing." Ben set the bottle down, but the memories caved in. Lauren.
Lauren. The reason he had never married. The reason he lived a solemn, quiet life.
Devin frowned. "I know they're wealthy, but I told her I don't care."
"Ah... I see," Ben replied. But his eyes were far away, anchored to a past he had tried to bury in the sand. Meanwhile, Devin was already counting the hours until tomorrow, already imagining the cookies and the beach and her laugh.