CHAPTER 8
Summer
The afternoon sun spills gold through the kitchen windows, soft and sleepy against the wood floors. The smell of Lily’s stew fills the air, warm and comforting, and for once, the house feels still.
I’m rinsing teacups in the sink when I hear the crunch of tires on the gravel drive. I wipe my hands on a towel and peer out the window. Penny’s car pulls up, sunlight catching the red in her hair. She waves at me through the glass.
I step onto the porch. “Hey, Penny. Everything okay?”
She grins. “Better than okay. Grab your shoes, sweetheart, we’re going shopping.”
I blink. “Shopping?”
“You need clothes,” she says, already halfway up the steps, “and I happen to be an expert in retail therapy.”
“Penny, I can’t,” I say quickly, heat blooming up my neck. “I don’t have the money right now. I’ll be fine.”
“You helped me when I had nothing,” she says, cutting me off before I can argue further. “You didn’t think twice. Let me return the favor.”
I shake my head, embarrassed. “It’s different.”
“It’s not,” she says softly, her brows lifting. “You lost everything, Summer. Let someone help you.”
My throat tightens. I look down at my hands, still red and tender around the knuckles from the fire, and nod. “Okay. Just a few things.”
“Perfect.” She beams, her energy warm enough to fill the porch. “Now go grab your phone and something warm. It’s freezing out here.”
I hurry upstairs and glance at my closet, where one of Ethan’s hoodies sits folded neatly, the one he’d dropped off this morning.
I slip it over my head before I can talk myself out of it.
It’s soft, sky blue, and smells faintly of him.
Woodsmoke, pine, and something warm that feels like safety.
The scent wraps around me like a memory I’m not ready to unpack.
Penny’s eyes narrow with mischief when she sees me come back down. “Nice hoodie.”
“It’s warm,” I mumble.
“Mmm-hmm.” She’s still smiling when we walk toward her car, just as Ethan gets out of his truck. He looks up as we pass, his gaze finding mine with that quiet, knowing smile tugging at his mouth. My pulse stumbles.
“Have fun, ladies,” he calls.
“Bye, Ethan,” I say, not trusting myself to meet his eyes again.
Penny tries to hide her grin as we pull onto the road. “So,” she says, drawing the word out, “Ethan, huh?”
I sigh, leaning my head against the cold window. “We’ve talked about this.”
“You talked about avoiding him,” she corrects, “not about how you look at him.”
“Penny…”
“Fine.” She laughs softly. “I’ll drop it. For now.”
I smile despite myself. The radio hums a low country song, soft and steady, and outside, the winter fields glow pale under the sun, endless, quiet, familiar.
The mall smells like perfume and warm fabric, bright and glossy under winter lights. Penny loops her arm through mine, tugging me with her unstoppable energy.
“You’re gonna love this place,” she says, steering me toward a boutique that looks too polished for someone in borrowed sweatpants and Ethan’s hoodie.
“Penny, they won’t have my size,” I mumble, tugging the sleeves over my hands.
“Sweetheart,” she says, holding the door open, “your size exists. It’s just been waiting for you to stop apologizing for it.”
Inside, racks of color surround me, soft reds, creamy whites, deep greens. Instinct leads me straight to the loose clothes like muscle memory. I pull a dark green cardigan off the rack.
Penny plucks it right out of my hands. “Absolutely not. We’re done with the clothes that were made to cover you instead of compliment you.”
“They’re slimming,” I argue.
“They’re hiding,” she says firmly. “And you’ve been hiding long enough.”
She reaches for a deep wine-colored winter coat, belted at the waist. “Try this. The belt will show off your shape.”
I hesitate but slip it on. The fabric settles around me, structured yet soft. I tie the belt, and the mirror stares back. For once, the woman in it doesn’t look like she’s shrinking.
“I look…” I start, unsure.
“Like someone who stopped apologizing,” Penny says simply.
The words hit someplace tender. My mom always said bright colors were “too loud for your figure.”
And Kevin…
I shake the thought away.
Penny hands me a cream-colored blouse next, silky, with a V-neck that dips just enough to make me blush.
“Penny…” I whisper.
She grins. “People pay big bucks for boobs like yours, and you hide them? Wear the damn blouse, Summer.”
I laugh despite myself. “You’re insane.”
“No, honey. I’m right.”
I try it on. The blouse drapes perfectly, the neckline subtle but flattering. For once, I don’t look at my chest with shame, I look with quiet pride.
When I step out again, I breathe out slowly and meet my reflection. This body, these hips, these curves, this full chest, is the same body that carried a child, that survived, that still shows up every single day.
“For years, I thought hiding my body made people like me better,” I say quietly. “It didn’t. It just made me disappear.”
Penny’s smile softens. “Then let’s make sure you’re seen.”
I grin, shaky but real. “Okay.”
We leave the store with bags full of color and promise. I slip the new coat over my shoulders, the belt cinched tight. I feel like I’m wearing confidence instead of pretending to have it.
“You know what?” I say as we step into the cold. “I think I’m done hiding.”
Penny bumps my shoulder. “About damn time.”
The glass doors close behind us, and for the first time in a long time, I like the woman reflected there.
Later that afternoon, the B&B is quiet when we get back, the kind of quiet that feels like snow waiting to fall. Mia is coloring by the fire with Lily, who offered to pick her up from school. I’m just slipping my coat off when the front door opens.
Ethan steps in, stetson on his head, cheeks pink beneath his light stubble from the cold. His eyes land on me, and stop.
For a heartbeat, he doesn’t move. He just looks.
Not the hungry kind.
The kind that sees.
“You look…” he starts, voice low and a little rough. “You look beautiful, Summer.”
My face warms, but I don’t look away. Not this time. “Thank you,” I say, my voice steadier than I expect.
Behind him, Penny grins and mouths a silent you’re welcome before slipping away.
Ethan’s gaze drifts to the tied belt of my coat, then back to my eyes. “That coat suits you.”
“It feels like me,” I say softly. “Or… maybe who I used to be before I started hiding.”
He nods, a slow smile spreading. “Then I hope you never hide again.”
His words land somewhere deep, not because I need his approval, but because he sees the part of me I’ve spent years trying to bury.