Chapter 5
Callie
After I get dried off and changed into clean clothes, I walk out and plop onto the couch. The cabin’s darker than usual, the storm swallowing the light from outside.
Maddie’s laugh floats down from the loft—high, girlish, and way too flirty to ignore. It’s followed by Luke’s deeper chuckle, then a burst of squeals like he’s tickling her.
Brad tips his head back and hollers, “We can hear you!”
“We’re not doing anything!” Maddie calls down, breathless with laughter.
Brad smirks, striking a match. “Yeah, mm-hmm.”
“Hey, at least they’re not fighting,” Mitch says, stepping out from the hall, his shirt only halfway over his head.
He tugs it down, and for a second my breath catches.
His stomach—hard lines of muscle I’ve never let myself stare at before—makes my heart sputter embarrassingly loudly in my own chest.
He drops beside me on the couch, our knees brushing, just barely. My blanket slips, and without thinking, he pulls one edge across his lap too, like we’ve done this a hundred times. I give him a discreet eye and he shrugs. Brad isn’t even watching, so it’s fine.
The storm presses against the cabin, steady sheets of rain drumming on the roof. Thunder rolls low and heavy, rattling the windows in their panes.
Macy made hot chocolate. Maddie spiked it and I dragged half the pantry to the coffee table while Luke wrestled with the VCR.
She’d found an old Dirty Dancing tape and decided it was fate, and now Luke’s half-buried behind the TV, muttering about cables and ports, determined to make it work.
Anything for Maddie. I might be a little jealous.
“Man, this is the perfect setup for a ghost story,” Brad says suddenly, leaning back into the couch with a mouthful of my homemade strawberry bars.
“Don’t even,” Maddie warns from the floor.
“Yeah, seriously, stop,” I chime in, tightening the blanket around my shoulders. “I’ll never sleep.”
Brad chuckles, clearly pleased he’s getting a rise out of us. “You never know what kind of things crawl out during a storm like this.”
“Brad,” I groan.
“Dude, shut up,” Mitch says, tone sharper than expected. It catches me—and everyone else—a little off guard. He shifts beside me, his knee brushing mine as he tips back his mug. The warmth of it runs all the way up my arm, and I try not to show it.
The secret’s starting to eat at me a little—this constant act of pretending nothing’s changed when everything has. Every time Mitch laughs, every time he looks at me for a beat too long, it’s harder not to reach for him.
I just hope we can find a night this week to talk before the fair next weekend—before we’re all together again, pretending, smiling, keeping this thing between us quiet while it keeps getting louder.
The storm presses harder against the cabin, the kind that makes everything feel smaller, warmer inside. The VCR finally clicks, and Luke pumps his fist. “Got it!”
“Thank God,” Maddie says, dragging a pillow to the floor. “If we’re going to be stuck inside all night, at least Baby and Johnny can keep us company.”
“Who?” Brad asks, frowning.
Maddie gasps. “You’ve never seen Dirty Dancing?”
He shrugs. “Isn’t that the one with the spaghetti arms and the lift thing?”
“Spaghetti arms?” she repeats, horrified. “Don’t you mean ‘the one with Patrick Swayze’?”
Luke grins. “You’re about to get an education, man.”
Maddie hits play, and the grainy opening scene flickers across the screen. Everyone settles into their spots.
Brad’s stretched out on the floor, all long limbs and broad shoulders; Macy’s on the opposite couch, legs tucked under her.
Luke and Maddie are curled up on the other end, tangled in their own little world.
Her head rests against his chest, his arm wrapped tight around her waist, stealing kisses like they can’t help themselves.
This is the Luke and Maddie we all know—the inseparable, annoyingly-in-love version.
The one that exists just as loudly as the fights do.
They argue like hell, sure, but when they’re good, they’re good. It’s always been that way.
Mitch stretches out beside me, his bicep catching my eyes as his arm drapes casually along the back of the couch behind me.
Nobody else notices but I’m aware of it the whole time.
The smell of popcorn and cocoa fills the room. Thunder rumbles in the distance.
“Man, movies looked terrible back then,” Brad says after a while, squinting at the fuzzy picture.
“Shut up. This is art,” Maddie says without looking away.
I sneak a glance at Mitch. His jaw’s relaxed, eyes half-focused on the screen, half somewhere else. When he catches me looking, he doesn’t smile. He just gives me that small, knowing glance that makes my stomach flutter.
We both turn back to the movie at the same time, pretending that didn’t just happen.
Halfway through, the lights flicker once, twice, then fade completely. The TV screen dies with a soft pop.
“Dang it,” Luke mutters.
“Guess that’s our cue,” Macy says, stretching.
“Could be worse,” Mitch adds, tossing a kernel of popcorn in the air and missing his mouth. “Could’ve gone out during the lift scene.”
Maddie rolls her eyes, gathering her blanket. “You mean the best scene.”
“Obviously.”
One by one, they start dispersing. Brad and Macy head toward the front porch. Maddie and Luke whisper and laugh as they climb up the stairs to the loft. Within minutes, the cabin quiets again, the only sound coming from the rain, thunder, and a few flickering candles.
I stay where I am, blanket pulled tight, legs curled beneath me. Mitch hasn’t moved either. He leans forward, grabbing a cracker and biting it in half.
He glances at me. “You look scared.”
I snort softly. “I am scared of being part of Luke and Maddie’s show in about five minutes.”
He smirks. “Pretty sure they’re just going up to nap.”
“Are you new here?” I tilt my head and whisper.
He laughs under his breath. “We could go sit on the porch with Brad and Macy.”
“But then we wouldn’t be alone,” I murmur.
The rain picks up, louder now, thunder cracking close enough to make the windows rattle. Mitch shifts back beside me, the blanket sliding as he moves closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth of his leg against mine.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “We’re gonna have to figure this out soon. You and me.”
I nod. “I know.”
His eyes flick toward the loft, then the hallway, like he’s making sure we’re really alone. Then he leans in and kisses me—slow, careful, like he’s afraid of crossing some invisible line.
“I just don’t want to mess anything up,” he murmurs against my lips. “Make it weird. Ruin the group.”
“I know,” I whisper back.
Footsteps thunder down the stairs.
We spring apart like we’ve been caught doing something illegal.
“What?!” Mitch shouts.
Luke barrels past us, already grabbing his keys off the counter. “Forgot to shut my truck windows!”
The door slams behind him. My heart takes a second to slow, and Mitch drops back onto the couch, shaking his head.
“Dumbass.” He laughs.
I look at him. “Did you shut yours?”
His smile fades. He stares at me for half a second—then bolts upright.
“Damn it!”
He takes off out the door, and I lose it—laughing so hard I have to press a hand over my mouth as thunder crashes again and rain pours down harder than before.
* * *
The storm’s gone by morning, leaving everything damp and quiet.
The cabin smells like rain and lake water, faint and comforting—the kind of smell that only exists after a summer storm.
A breeze drifts through the cracked window above my bed, carrying the sound of birds chirping and water dripping off the rainspouts.
Then, from the kitchen, there’s Brad’s voice, yelling something about coffee filters.
I push the blanket back and sit up slowly, blinking against the thin sunlight cutting through the blinds. My shoulders are sore with sunburn, and my hair still smells faintly like the lake. The clock on the nightstand is blinking.
Macy and Maddie are already up, their beds empty. I pull on the first thing I find out of my duffel bag—denim shorts and a T-shirt.
When I step into the hallway, the light catches on dust motes swirling lazily in the air. The house creaks below my feet and I can hear the low rumble of Luke’s laugh and Maddie’s higher one following.
Brad’s at the stove, shirtless, wearing a backwards hat and gym shorts, flipping bacon in a cast-iron skillet.
“Morning, sunshine,” he says, looking up.
“Morning,” I say, voice still scratchy.
“Don’t mind him,” Macy says from the counter beside him, buttering toast and humming along to whatever song is playing quietly from someone’s phone. “He’s been yelling about breakfast for twenty minutes.”
“I’ wasn’t yelling,” Brad says. “I’m hungry.”
Macy rolls her eyes. “You’re what they call hangry.”
He brushes her off and the bacon pops and spits grease on his wrist. “Ow! Son of a—”
“Big baby,” Macy taunts.
“Teacher’s pet,” he flings back.
I laugh at them and grab the Garfield mug from 1978, filling it with coffee. “This feels like déjà vu,” I say, leaning against the counter. “Morning after a bad storm we didn’t see coming.”
“I’m just glad we survived,” Macy says, cracking eggs into another pan. “Especially with Luke’s driving.”
“Hey!” Luke calls. “My driving’s the reason we survived.”
“Barely,” Maddie teases, stepping into the kitchen wrapped in one of Luke’s flannels, the sleeves swallowing her hands, the hem hitting her midthigh. She pads across the floor barefoot, smiling to herself as she goes straight for the fridge.
Luke follows, slow and deliberate. “What was that?” he murmurs, slipping in behind her and burying his face into the side of her neck.
Maddie giggles instantly, squirming away in that way that means the exact opposite of stop. “Luke.” She laughs, breathless.
He doesn’t. Macy shoots me a look—half glare, half please don’t make me witness this—and I bite back a laugh.
Mitch’s voice finally joins the mix, low and groggy. “There better be coffee.”
I glance up as he walks in, his hair damp and shirt clinging in that unfair way again. His eyes find mine for just a second before he drops his gaze to the floor, heading for the coffeepot. My stomach does that ridiculous flip thing it’s been doing all weekend.
He fills his mug and leans back against the counter across from me, close enough I can smell soap and rain on his skin. Neither of us says anything. We don’t need to. There’s too much between the words right now.
Macy catches the glance but pretends not to. She hums louder instead.
“Alright,” Brad says, dropping a plate of bacon in the center of the table. “Breakfast is served. Eat up before I eat it all.”
Everyone gathers around, the clatter of plates and the scrape of chairs filling the little kitchen. Sunlight spills through the window, turning the linoleum floors to gold.
Macy nudges me. “Pass the syrup?”
I slide it over, watching her pour a waterfall onto her plate. She hums softly, pretending she’s not also keeping track of everyone’s conversations like she always does. Her eyes flick to me and Mitch once before she looks away, a tiny smile tugging at her lips.
Every so often, Mitch’s knee brushes mine under the table, subtle and quick, but enough to send a spark straight up my spine. He doesn’t apologize, and I don’t move away.
Brad’s already on his second helping, stacking pancakes like a tower. Luke and Maddie are half-asleep against each other at the end of the table, whispering about who knows what.
I sip my coffee and watch the morning sunlight shift across the table, lighting up everyone’s faces.
The air’s calm, like God’s giving us one last soft morning before we all have to go back to real life.
When the plates are empty and the coffeepot’s drained, we all just sit there for a minute. No one is in a rush to start to the process of cleaning up and going home. “This was a good weekend,” Macy says finally, breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” Luke says, stretching his arms over his head. “Feels weird that it’s already over.”
Brad leans back, hands behind his head. “Just means we gotta do it again.”
“Couple more weeks,” Maddie adds, her voice soft but certain. “Fourth of July.”
“Yup,” Luke says, standing, his chair scraping along the floor. “Now let’s get this crap cleaned up.”