Chapter One
Autumn
She had spent the day believing it would end in love.
Autumn Garcia balanced a small birthday cake in her hands, its delicate pink ribbon fluttering slightly in the breeze as she unlocked Kevin's apartment door. The scent of frosting and hope clung to her. Twenty-six today—and for once, she dared to imagine the day might end with something more than a passing kiss and an apology text.
Kevin had promised her. "Just us this year, I swear," he'd said, brushing her hair back and dropping a kiss on her forehead. "I'll make it special."
She'd believed him.
She stepped inside, heels clicking softly on the hardwood, her heart fluttering with anticipation.
"Kev?" she called out with a small smile.
Silence.
Odd.
She walked further in. No flicker of candlelight. No music. Just a dim apartment and a strange hum in her chest she couldn't quite ignore.
The bedroom door was slightly ajar.
And then she heard it.
A woman's breathy moan.
Autumn's world slowed. Her grip on the cake tightened as her blood roared in her ears. No. Not today. Not this day.
She pushed the door open.
There he was. Kevin. The man she'd loved for three years. Shirtless. His body curled around a woman with long legs, tousled hair, and red-painted nails clawing at his back.
Autumn recognized her. Rachel.
She wasn't a friend. Just a woman Kevin had once dismissed as "a client's assistant" and "kind of a flirt, but harmless."
Now she lay in Kevin's bed, his lips trailing along her throat.
Autumn dropped the cake. The box hit the floor with a muted thud, and the frosting smeared like a bleeding heart across the rug.
Kevin froze.
Rachel gasped and clutched the sheet to her chest.
"Autumn," Kevin said, scrambling for his jeans. "Shit. I—I didn't know you were coming."
She stared, words caught in her throat, stomach twisting.
"You didn't know?" she whispered.
Kevin stepped toward her, panic rising in his eyes. "It was a mistake. I swear—Rachel doesn't mean anything."
Rachel flinched at that.
Autumn let out a bitter laugh. "Wow. So this is what I get for showing up on my birthday?"
Kevin opened his mouth.
She didn't wait to hear it.
She turned and walked out.
---
Three Days Later
She hadn't cried—not really. Not the way she thought she would. The tears came in strange moments—hearing a song in the car, brushing her teeth, seeing his stupid mug on her bedside table before she hurled it across the room.
The worst part wasn't even the betrayal.
It was the humiliation.
Three years. Three birthdays. Three broken promises. And she had still chosen to believe he could be better.
Autumn closed the last suitcase, her apartment in mild disarray, and pulled up the flight booking site for the fourth time that night.
She needed to leave. Anywhere. Anywhere but here.
She typed "beach vacation," scrolled past the luxury packages and influencer destinations, and paused on something quiet—tropical, but not flashy. A coastal retreat nestled along the shore of a small island town. Warm breezes, golden sunsets, no familiar faces.
She booked it on impulse.
As she confirmed her information, her fingers hovered over the name field. She started to type:
Autumn Garcia
But her heart stuttered.
The name didn't feel like hers anymore. That girl had believed in forever with a man who couldn't even stay faithful for her birthday.
Still, she typed it in.
No aliases.
Not yet.
---
Two Days Later
The ocean air wrapped around her the moment she stepped out of the shuttle van. It smelled of salt, hibiscus, and something strangely like freedom.
Autumn wore sunglasses too big for her face and a linen dress that whispered against her skin with every step. She hadn't spoken a word during the two-hour journey from the tiny island airport, and she wasn't about to start now.
The resort was charming—less five-star opulence and more hidden paradise. Palm trees danced gently in the breeze, and hammocks swayed like lazy whispers near the shore.
"Welcome to Coral Bay Retreat," the receptionist said with a bright smile. "You must be Miss Garcia."
Autumn nodded and accepted the room key.
Villa 7A. Ocean view.
Perfect.
She didn't come here to find herself. She came here to forget
That night
She hadn't planned to go to the beach bar.
But the sound of music and the clinking of glasses tugged at her. The sun had dipped low, painting the sky in burnt oranges and lavender purples, and the air was warm with possibility.
She sat at the far end of the bar, ordered a drink she couldn't pronounce, and tried to pretend she wasn't checking out every couple that walked past.
And then, she saw him.
Tall. Relaxed. A smirk that curled like a secret. He was leaning against the far end of the bar, stirring a drink with deliberate nonchalance. His shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing strong forearms. His eyes—gray, sharp, observant—flicked toward her.
And held.
She looked away.
He didn't.
"Is this seat taken?" he asked, gesturing to the empty stool beside her.
Autumn hesitated, then shrugged. "Be my guest."
He sat. Close enough to smell like cedarwood and sea air.
"Name?" he asked, casually.
Her heart thudded.
She should've said Autumn.
But something about his gaze, steady and curious, made her want to be someone else—even if just for the night.
"Everett," she said.
The name slid off her tongue before she could stop it. Her best friend's name. Bold. Unapologetic.
He smiled. "Everett. That's… different."
"Good different?"
"Definitely."
She took a slow sip of her drink, her pulse racing.
"And you?" she asked, trying to sound casual.
"Elliott," he said. "Here on business. Or I was, until this moment."
She quirked a brow. "That a line?"
"If it works, then y
es."
Autumn—Everett—laughed. Genuinely.
For the first time in days, she felt something other than bitterness.
Not happiness. Not yet.
But maybe the start of it.