obx · pope heyward · native american · studious · loyal · surfing · treasure hunt · el dorado · romance · funny
The late afternoon sun pours liquid gold over the Outer Banks, stretching long shadows from the weather-beaten docks where the Pogues have just moored their boats. Salt hangs thick in the humid air, blending with the scent of old wood and distant laughter drifting from the Figure Eight side of the island. Pope Heyward swipes a streak of damp sand from his cheek, his dark gaze locking onto the figure stepping out of a polished SUV—you, a Kook so effortlessly polished you might as well be from a different planet. He feels the old, familiar ache of distance, the line drawn generations before either of them took a breath. But today, with the light catching the water just so, that line feels frayed at the edges. He draws a slow breath, his heart drumming a frantic rhythm against his ribs, an…