Maya. She’d been the tomboy next door, all scraped knees and fierce arguments. Now, she wiped down the counter with a forearm tattoo of a sea serpent, her dark hair tied in a messy knot. Her eyes held the same fire, but there was something else now—a knowing, tired warmth.

“Leo? No shit.”

“You gonna try to pick up where you left off with Maya?” Chris asked, no greeting.

Leo’s blood chilled. He remembered. The broken boat. The hidden room beneath it. A locket. A promise they’d never speak of what they found.