Think this belongs to you #2
The lake is the first place in Maplewood that’s ever made my brain go quiet.
Evan taught me lake breaths today while Elle laughed and Gus splashed, then he found me the perfect pebble to skip with.
A smile pulls faintly at the corner of my mouth, the memory of that day flashing through my head, before the next line hits me straight in the gut.
I think he’s my penguin.
I stare at the words for a second too long, then close the journal carefully and jog back to the truck.
Because I know exactly where she is.
***
The truck barely rolls to a stop before I kill the engine. I sit there for a moment, chest still thundering from the hour spent tearing around Maplewood with a silver heel in my hand like some deranged fucking fairytale detective.
But then I see her.
Penny’s sitting at the edge of the lake, with her jeans rolled to her calves and her bare feet in the water. The breeze moves through her hair gently, lifting the blue tips so they flash against the light, and for a second, I can’t do anything except look at her.
She’s safe.
Relief hits hard as I grab the heel before climbing out, shutting the truck door and trying to get my thoughts together. The lake does most of the talking usually—water folding softly against the shore, wind through the trees, distant birdsong carrying somewhere overhead.
I make my way down the small slope toward the water, slower now that the panic isn’t driving me forward.
She doesn’t notice me at first, too busy turning pebbles over in her hands one at a time, rubbing her thumb across each smooth surface before tossing them aside into the grass.
When I reach her, I lower myself onto the grass without speaking straight away.
Penny startles slightly at the movement, head turning fast, but the second her eyes land on me, everything inside her face shifts at once.
Relief followed by guilt, then something deeper and more dangerous that’s been living between us for months.
Love.
I hold her gaze for a second before lifting the heel slightly between us.
“Think this belongs to you.”
So does my heart.
A breath leaves her that sounds halfway to a laugh. “Oh my god.”
“Yeah, I’ve spent the last hour carrying a broken silver heel around Maplewood. Fletch is never letting me live this down.”
That shaky little smile appears for real this time, fragile but there. “I didn’t even realize I dropped it.”
“I know.”
The words come out gentle, because that’s the thing—I do know. I know she wasn’t thinking straight when she left. I know her brain gets loud when she’s overwhelmed. I know she runs toward quiet when the world starts hurting too much.
I rake a hand over my jaw and stare out across the lake for a second before looking back at her.
“I woke up, and you weren’t there.” My voice roughens. “So I went to Flora’s first.”
Her eyes soften immediately.
“Then Neverland. The park. I even wondered if I should check the damn grocery store in case you’d decided you needed bananas or some shit.”
That earns me a small, watery laugh—a real one.
I swallow. “I found your journal after that.”
Her fingers still against the pebble she’s turning over in her fingers.
“It was open,” I say. “I saw my name before I knew what I was looking at. The page about lake breaths and pebbles. And a penguin.”
“Oh my god.” Color creeps slowly into her cheeks. “You weren’t supposed to read that.”
“I know, and I’m sorry I did.” My throat tightens briefly as my eyes lock with hers. “But I’m also really glad I did.”
Silence settles around us again, and Penny looks back toward the water, still turning the pebble between her fingers.
“I wasn’t trying to hide or run away.” Her voice catches for a second before she steadies it. “I just… Everything got really loud in my head this morning.”
The breeze pushes loose strands of hair across her cheek, and she tucks them back absently.
“You were asleep, and your arm was stretched across the bed like you were reaching for me, and it completely ruined me.” She laughs weakly at herself. “Then I kept thinking about Colt, and Stacey, and Elle almost losing you, and me almost losing you, and—”
Her breath shakes.
“I couldn’t breathe in the house anymore.”
I move closer before I even consciously decide to. “You could’ve woken me up.”
“I know.” Her glassy eyes finally meet mine again. “But you looked so peaceful, Evan. I didn’t want to ruin that, too.”
God, this woman.
My hand finds hers in the grass and threads our fingers together around the pebble she’s still holding.
“I got halfway to Toronto mentally before I even left the driveway,” I admit softly.
She huffs out another tearful laugh. “I texted you… I didn’t mean to freak you out, I just needed the noise to stop for a while.”
The lake water shifts gently up toward her toes, and I nod at the pebbles she’s gathered near her thigh.
“You find a good one?”
“I was trying to.” A shaky breath leaves her. “Wanted to find you the perfect one.”
Something inside me folds in half.
“Pen…”
“I came out here because I thought I needed space,” she says, words tumbling freer now that they’ve started. “And then I got here and realized I didn’t actually want space from you.” Her throat works hard. “I just needed somewhere to put all the fear for a minute.”
The breeze catches strands of her hair again, pushing them across her cheek, and this time I reach out to gently sweep them off her face.
“I kept replaying everything,” she whispers. “And all I could think is that every time something magic happens, something breaks.”
“No. You don’t get to do this.” Her mouth opens, but I don’t give her space to give me another reason. “You don’t get to decide what I survive.”
“You ran into that building because I was in there.” Her voice shakes now. “Because I believed Stacey’s stupid story. It all lines up, Evan. I was the variable.”
Variable.