When Mom said I’d be staying at Uncle Marcus’s place for the summer, I didn’t think twice.
It made sense—college dorms were closed, and my internship was in town. And with Dad gone, Marcus was technically my closest family. But I hadn’t seen him since I was fifteen. Back then, he was just “Uncle Marcus,” Dad’s rugged older brother with a quiet voice and a mysterious past.
But standing on his front porch now, suitcase in hand and nerves humming, I realized something had changed. Maybe it was me. Maybe it was him. Or maybe it was the way his eyes traveled down my body before they landed on my face.
“Didn’t think you’d grow up this much,” he muttered, stepping aside to let me in.
His voice was gravel—rough, low, and not nearly as indifferent as he tried to sound.
I gave him a small smile
