7. Chapter Seven
Chapter Seven
Allie
“Jesus, Allie.”
Ana’s voice cuts through the kitchen while she rushes over to me. “That guy really clocked you, huh?”
She grabs my face and tilts it from side to side, inspecting it carefully. My eyes follow hers until I finally swat her hand away.
So much for a quiet morning with a side of coffee.
“Yeah,” I mutter, pressing my fingers gently to my cheekbone. “I knew it the second I woke up. Didn’t even need a mirror.”
“Well, damn. Are you sure you still want to go to the beach?”
I lift my mug. “Yeah, I’m good. I just need to finish this first.”
“Okay. If you change your mind, just let us know.”
I watch her disappear from the kitchen and set my coffee back down with a soft clink. My eyes drift to my phone, and suddenly my chest tightens.
Right there on the screen is a frozen image of Charlotte and Lydia, caught mid-laugh while pouring tea from the little set they got last year for Christmas.
Too sweet. Too innocent. Too far away.
Three days down, only a million more to go—or so it feels like.
I keep telling myself they’re fine. That they’re safe.
But my brain refuses to fully believe it.
Instead, it just loops through all the stuff I’m missing out on.
Like not tucking them in at night. Not kissing their scraped knees.
And not being there to make sure Lydia actually eats instead of launching her food onto the floor.
Before I even realize it, I’m already dialing Trevor.
Part of me feels selfish, like I’m interrupting his time—but I can’t stop myself. I just need to hear they’re doing okay without me.
The phone rings long enough to make my stomach twist, like it’s definitely about to go to voicemail. But then finally, he picks up, and Lydia’s wails come screeching through the speaker.
The sound rips through me like a woodchipper. Knowing I’m not there to comfort her? I wouldn’t wish that kind of heartbreak on anyone.
“Hey!” Trevor says, way too cheerful for someone with a screaming toddler two feet away from them.
“Hey. I just wanted to check in. See how the girls are doing,” I say, trying to sound calm even though I’m about one shaky breath away from full-blown sobbing.
In the background, I hear a door creak, then click shut—then silence. No more crying, no more background noise.
“They’re good! Just the usual sister rivalry,” he says with a light laugh.
I smile, surprised by how much lighter I feel just hearing that.
“Good. I’m glad. I miss them so much already,” I admit softly.
“I know, Allie. They miss you too.” He pauses. “But hey, you’re on vacation. You should be focusing on you , you know? And also…”
Suddenly the smile I had? Gone. Because somehow, I already know what’s coming next.
“You know, it might be harder on them if you call too much. I’m not saying don’t call at all, just… maybe ease up a little. Let them settle in.”
Is he serious?
How am I not supposed to call ? They’re going to think I just left them. That I didn’t want to be around anymore. Or worse… that Mommy needed a break… from them .
But one thing I have to realize is he’s not completely wrong. This is his time, and I have to respect that. Even if every part of me hates it.
I swallow hard, the lump in my throat making it hard to get any words out. “Yeah... You might be right,” I say, barely above a whisper.
“They’re beautiful, Allie. You’ve done a great job. Especially, while I was staying with Ryan. I know the last couple of years were rough. And I’m not saying you can’t talk to them at all. Just… maybe we can come up with a little schedule? I’ll text you about it.”
Tears sting, but I blink them back fast. “Okay,” I say, almost choking on the word.
“Alright. Go have fun, okay? I’ll text you soon.”
Then—click. The line goes dead. And suddenly, I’ve never felt more alone.
I know he isn’t trying to be a jerk by telling me not to call so much. Deep down, I get it. But the resentment still creeps in regardless.
This is his time, sure, but what about all the time I’ve put in? Every meltdown, every bedtime story and early morning snuggle. All the blood, sweat, and sleepless nights I’ve poured into raising these girls and shaping them into kind, beautiful little humans.
Not being able to hug them? Kiss them? Just be there every day? That’s a special kind of torture he’ll never truly understand.
He has no idea what the last two years have been like for us. The three of us were practically sewn together while he sorted out his life. Crashing at places that weren’t safe for the girls to be… or the people didn’t want them around.
Now that he has his own place, it’s like everything changed. Almost like he’s trying to slowly edge me out of the picture somehow. But to limit my phone calls? I would never— ever— do that to him.
It’s times like these that I can’t help but miss the man I fell for all those years ago.
The one who’d turn any random Tuesday into a date night.
Who would drop everything just to make me feel special.
Who would pull me close and make it feel like the whole world could fall apart, and I’d still be safe in his arms.
But then the girls were born, and nothing was the same again.
There were no more dates. No more lazy mornings curled up in bed. It all turned into constant complaints about how I didn’t cook the way he liked or how he was too tired from working to help with… well, anything .
He doesn’t understand that when we broke up, I didn’t just lose a partner.
I lost the future I thought we were building.
Leaving him wasn’t something I wanted. It was something I had to do.
Because when you have two little girls watching your every move, relying on you to show them what love and strength really look like…
You can’t let someone you love walk all over you.
The phone suddenly feels like a thousand pounds in my hand. Like it’s sinking me straight into the floor. The longer I sit here holding it, the more tempting it sounds to just crawl back into bed and stay there until this whole vacation is over.
Of course, if I did that, Ana or Nora would drag me out by my toes. Although… right now? That almost feels worth it.
Then I remember—we’re going to the damn beach. And if I back out now, getting dragged by my toes will be the least of my problems.
I push my coffee away, then lean my elbows on the table and blow out a long, slow breath, trying my hardest to exhale all the heaviness sitting in my chest.
That’s what my mother always taught me: inhale the good, exhale the bad.
I know everything will be okay eventually.
It’s just a matter of convincing myself to believe it.
So I give myself permission to wallow for ten more minutes.
Ten minutes to feel sorry for myself and miss my girls.
But after that? I need to pull it together and pretend like my heart isn’t breaking in ways I don’t even know how to explain.
The entire drive to the beach, I was stuck in my own head. Mentally giving myself a pep talk while Ana and Nora screamed along to whatever was playing on the radio.
We step out of the car, and I take a deep breath, the salty air hitting me in the face in the best way.
I already feel a little lighter while hearing the waves crashing against the shore.
They sound exactly like they used to, and for a second, I swear I’m transported to a different lifetime—back when things actually made sense.
I haven’t been to the beach since I was Charlotte’s age. Back then, my mom and I would dance along the shore and build sandcastles for hours before I tried feeding the seagulls. That was until Mom would shoo them away, calling them “dirty birds.”
But now? There’s something different about this place. Something big is missing.
It’s July. So it should be packed, right? Yet the parking lot is basically a ghost town.
I glance at Ana, squinting against the sun and shielding my eyes with one hand.
“Why is there no one here?” I ask, nodding toward the empty lot.
Ana lets out a short laugh as she grabs a folding chair from the back of the car. “Girl, do you not watch the news?”
I shake my head, a crooked smile pulling at my lips. “Nope. I already know the world is crap. I don’t need some TV anchor reminding me.”
She laughs again, placing her hands on her hips. “There’s a storm coming. A big one, apparently. They’re saying high winds, maybe some thunder. The whole shebang.”
“Yeah, but it’s the Fourth of July tomorrow. You’d think people would still be out,” Nora says, wrestling a towel free from the trunk.
Wait—tomorrow’s the Fourth?
One would think everyone would brave the storm for the holiday, but what do I know?
Trevor and I never really made a thing of it, so it always just…
passed by. The only reason I ever remembered was because I’d be stuck at work treating someone who set their arm on fire with homemade fireworks.
But now that I’m not at work? It didn’t even register.
If I had remembered, I wouldn’t have planned a beach day, assuming it’d be packed.
But this? Quiet and nearly deserted? That’s my kind of heaven. Crowds and chaos? Hard pass.
My feet sink into the hot, grainy sand as we make our way toward the water. It slips between my toes, and for the first time all day, I feel a real smile tug at my mouth.
I’m at the beach . With my two best friends. The sun’s out, the place is basically empty, and for once, I’m not running around yelling Don’t touch that or Leave the dirty birds alone like I would if the girls were here.
“I think right here’s perfect!” Nora shouts, stopping just short of the water. She throws her arm out like she’s claiming land, not just picking a spot to lay out our towels.
Ana and I finally catch up, and I give my towel a lazy shake before laying it out on the sand.
Nora, of course, just drops everything she packed onto hers in a heap.
“I’m going in the water!” she announces, already running off without waiting for a response.
I sink onto my towel and dig through my bag until I find my book. A good old romance novel. My happy place. One where love is messy but worth fighting for. These books? They help give me something to believe in, even if it’s just pretend.
Not that I ever finish them. I always swear I’m going to, and then I read one page before bed. But maybe today will finally be different.
Ana peels off her shorts and tosses them down beside me.
“You’re not coming in?” she asks, squinting at me under the sun.
“Maybe in a few,” I say, holding up my book like proof.
She grins. “Okay. Holler if you need anything,” she says, then jogs off to catch up with Nora.
Before I crack it open, I take a second to just... be .
I can’t imagine how crowded this place must get when all the shops are open. But today? It’s just us and a handful of scattered strangers.
There’s a couple walking hand in hand along the shoreline, totally lost in their own little world. Then farther out, a group of guys toss a football back and forth, laughing and yelling until one of them throws it way too far, and someone has to dive into the water to chase it down.
That’s about it. Everyone’s basically accounted for.
“Allie!” Ana calls from the water. “Get your ass in here! Don’t make me come drag you!”
Didn’t she just say to holler if I needed anything?
My idea of a perfect beach day is lounging in the sun with a mixed drink in one hand and a book in the other—not swimming.
I usually avoid the water because it’s always way too cold, and honestly, you never know what’s floating around in there.
But when Ana’s threatening to drag you in?
She’s not just saying it for the sake of saying it. She means it.
So I peel myself off the towel, tuck my book back into my bag, and keep my eyes glued to the sand while I inch closer to the shore. I slowly dip my toe into the icy water.
And then— splash ! Suddenly I’m soaked head to toe, with cold, salty water landing right in my mouth. I gasp loudly enough to scare the birds off, frozen in shock.
I look up and see Ana and Nora doubled over, cackling with the seagulls.
“She did it,” they say in unison, pointing fingers at each other.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought I left my five-year-old at home,” I fire back with a laugh, kicking water at them.
I keep splashing as droplets hit their faces, feeling like a kid again. Maybe it looks ridiculous, a twenty-five-year-old woman splashing her friends like this, but do I care?
Absolutely not.
Then Nora’s eyes go wide.
She points behind me. “Allie, watch out!”
My heart jumps, and before I can turn, a massive splash hits my back, cold water spraying everywhere.
What the hell could be big enough to cause that much splash? Do sharks even live in Massachusetts?
After a few seconds, when I realize my legs are still attached and not inside some shark’s belly, I slowly turn around.
And then I feel like a fool.
It’s not a fish. Not a jellyfish. And definitely not a shark.
But a damn football .
I stare at it for a second, fully judging myself for freaking out when I literally saw a group of guys tossing it not even five minutes ago. I laugh it off, bending down to grab the ball.
Just as my fingers brush it, I hear footsteps splashing in the shallow water, coming closer.
“Sorry about that!” a man’s voice calls out with a thick, unmistakable Welsh accent.
My spine stiffens.
Then his shadow falls over me as he stands there, blocking the sun. And my brain? Completely refuses to connect the dots and just hand the ball back.
Nope. It’s still in full-on shock mode, and I’m stuck here, halfway bent over.
I force myself to straighten, and when I finally look up, there’s Gareth freaking Chase. His short, choppy, light-brown hair shines in the sunlight with his hands planted on his hips.
“Sorry about this guy’s shit aim,” he says with a laugh, nodding back toward the rest of the guys jogging toward us.
James comes into view first, his hair sticking up in every direction like the salt water’s acting as hair gel.
He narrows his eyes at Gareth and shrugs. “It’s not my fault you can’t catch,” he mumbles, then glances at us. “Sorry if we disturbed you, ladies.”
I want to say something back to not seem rude, but I can’t. I’m completely frozen.
Because right behind him, Jax is walking and talking with Casey.
Tiny droplets of water glisten on his sun-kissed skin, clinging to his cheeks that are just starting to turn pink from the sun. He laughs at something Casey says, and then his eyes flick to mine momentarily. It takes him not even a full second before he does a double take with wide eyes.
And suddenly my knees forget how to work— again .