Chapter 13
Mitch
It’s just after seven when we finally pull into the gravel drive at the lake house.
The sun’s starting to dip, bleeding orange through the trees, the kind of July evening that hums with crickets and humidity.
The windows are down, country music low on the radio, the air thick with pine and dust and the lake.
Macy’s in the passenger seat, feet up on my dash, scrolling her phone. Callie and Brad are in the back. He’s asleep, she’s been quiet the whole drive—too quiet. Brad noticed ten minutes in. “You good?” he asked, and she gave him a quick smile and said she had a headache. He believed her. I didn’t.
She probably does have a headache, but I’d put money on her being in her head about the baby. Same as me.
Luke and Maddie are behind us somewhere—they had to stop for gas and ice. The drive feels longer than usual, maybe because my brain hasn’t shut up since I opened my eyes this morning.
I barely slept last night. Laid there staring at the ceiling until the sky turned pink, listening to the fan rattle and thinking about everything I can’t control.
This time next year, we’ll have a baby. A baby.
It still doesn’t sound real.
I keep trying to picture it, what life’s supposed to look like after this.
Will we still come up here on weekends with everyone?
Or will our lives feel like something separate, grown-up and far away from all this?
Where would we even sleep—with a baby in the next room?
We won’t be up late drinking or playing loud games anymore. Not when there’s a kid to take care of.
Then there’s the money. Everyone always says how expensive babies are, and that’s repeating in the back of my mind on a loop. I’ve got some savings from landscaping, but it doesn’t feel like much now. Not when I start listing what a baby actually needs—diapers, crib, food, toys.
And we both still live at home. That’s not gonna work.
But living together’s not exactly an option either—not if we’re not married.
My chest tightens at that thought. Married. We’re only eighteen. Technically adults, but I don’t feel like one.
Still, I can’t help thinking about it. Maybe I should ask her. It feels like the right thing to do, and it would give us a pass on living together with a baby. Right?
And yeah, it scares me. The whole thing does.
But one thing I know for sure—Callie’s going to be a good mom.
I’ve seen her with Kayce and Wrenley’s kids, the way she kneels down to their level to talk to them, understands what they say or what they need.
She’s patient, gentle, and already has that mother heart built in.
And I love her. That part, at least, I’m sure of.
Because whatever happens, we didn’t make this baby out of complete lust or recklessness.
I’d like to believe it was out of love. Because somewhere in the middle of everything, between the late nights, the friendship that’s been built up more and more over the years, I fell in love with her.
And even though I don’t have a clue what I’m doing…I know there’s not another person I’d want to do it with.
Gravel crunches under the tires as I park beside the old oak tree that shades half the yard. The air’s heavy with the smell of water and bonfire smoke. Brad stretches the second the truck stops, cracking his neck like he’s been driving for hours even though he slept most of the way.
“Home sweet home.” He yawns, climbing out.
Macy opens her door before I’ve even killed the engine. “Luke’s not here yet, but we can at least unload.”
“Yeah, he shouldn’t be too far back,” I say, grabbing the first duffel bag I see.
We pile the bags and totes near the side door we use more than the others; the screen door hasn’t locked since 1985 but the main door behind it is.
“One of these days we’ll leave a spare key,” Macy mutters.
Brad grins. “We could break in.”
“No.” Macy nudges him away. “Let’s check the water, I bet it’s warm,” she says, sliding out of her shoes and running off. Brad makes a face.
“I mean, it is July,” he utters, following her.
Callie laughs too—just once. It’s short and almost fragile, but it’s the first time I’ve heard it all day.
“You really have a headache?” I ask, setting a cooler down beside the steps.
She groans and drops onto the porch, arms wrapped around her knees. “No.”
“Didn’t think so.” I sit beside her, elbows resting on my legs.
She sighs, eyes on the gravel drive. “I’m just not sure I’m ready to tell them about…anything. I wanted to talk to Wrenley when she got home tonight, but Kayce beat her home, so I couldn’t.”
I look at her fast. “You want to tell her?”
“What? She’s my cousin. And she has little kids, and—”
“And she’s the pastor’s daughter, Callie. No.”
“That doesn’t matter! She’s a therapist—she’s used to keeping secrets from everyone in this town.”
“Yeah, because she gets paid to and has contracts in place,” I shoot back, lowering my voice. “You tell her I knocked you up, she can tell whoever she wants—including our parents.”
“She wouldn’t.”
“She might,” I say. “You don’t know that.”
“Then so be it,” she snaps quietly, frustration bleeding into her words. “Because I don’t know what else to do. I don’t even know how to make a doctor’s appointment for this kind of thing! What am I supposed to say? ‘Um, hi, my boyfriend got me pregnant and now I need to know what to do next?’”
Her voice cracks at the end, and she lets out a shaky breath, brushing at her eyes before the tears can fall.
I inhale. “If talking to Wrenley’s what you wanna do, then it’s fine with me,” I tell her softly. “I don’t know what to do either, so…I guess you might as well start somewhere.”
She sniffles, voice smaller now. “If I tell her not to tell, she won’t. She’ll help me first and then encourage me to tell. I know it.”
I reach up, rubbing a slow circle against her back. “That’s fine, then. I don’t want you stressing out more than you already are.”
The porch light hums above us. Down by the water, Brad and Macy are laughing—her feet kicking in the shallows, him tossing rocks and missing more than he hits. Their laughter drifts up through the trees, soft and far away.
I lean in, brushing a quick kiss against her cheek, then glance toward the lake to make sure nobody’s watching.
She exhales, fidgeting with the hem of her sweatshirt. “Maybe we can just tell them we’re dating,” she says quietly, eyes still down. “Unless…” She hesitates, swallows. “Unless you’re gonna leave me now.”
My heart stumbles. “Calliope.”
She doesn’t look at me, just shakes her head. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did. This is…a lot.”
I lift her chin gently until she finally meets my eyes. “Hey. I’m not going anywhere.” My voice comes out rougher than I expect, weighted with everything I’m trying not to say. Fear. Love. All of it knotted together in my chest.
I swallow, words pressing at the back of my throat. “I lo—”
The sound of an engine cuts through the moment. Gravel crunches. Luke and Maddie.
Callie jerks back a little, tucking her hair behind her ear as she stands.
The words have to die there, unfinished, hanging between us like a promise I haven’t quite figured out how to say yet.
I stand too, forcing a breath and shoving my hands into my pockets like that’ll hide everything I’m feeling.
Brad and Macy start back up toward us and Luke parks beside me in the driveway. Maddie waving at us from the rolled-down passenger seat window. And just like that, the moment’s over.
Once we get inside with all our stuff, the girls head straight for the kitchen to unpack the food.
Macy’s already got her color-coded meal plan pinned to the fridge with a rusty old magnet that’s got a half-naked lady in a sombrero on it.
The other corner’s held down by a vintage-looking Ohio magnet that’s been there forever.
No one knows why. None of Luke’s family is from Ohio, but at this point it’s just part of the cabin’s charm.
“Why do you even bother planning meals?” Brad asks, cracking open a beer. “We always end up winging it.”
Macy doesn’t even glance up. “Because I like to have a plan, Bradley.”
He smirks, leaning against the counter. “Yeah? Well I hope you guys didn’t forget the frickin’ buns for the burgers this time.”
Macy snaps back, “Well, I hope you didn’t forget how to grill without setting the deck on fire this time.”
We all laugh out loud.
“Oh, it was one time,” Brad says, brushing it off.
While they bicker, I wander over to Luke’s cooler. The beer cooler. I crack one open and stand here for a minute, watching everyone settle in so we can go out on the boat before it’s too dark. My eyes catch Callie’s when I take a sip. It didn’t click until now. She can’t drink.
The room suddenly feels smaller, louder. I take another drink I don’t even want, just to keep my hands busy. Then I set it down, swallow hard, and head for the basement where Luke is.
The steps creak under my boots, the air down here cooler and smelling like damp concrete.
Luke’s midswig when he looks up, a beer bottle dangling from his hand. “Don’t ask me how much I spent,” he says, already grinning.
The pile of fireworks is huge. Boxes stacked to the ceiling, bundles of Roman candles, tubes with names like “Thunder Reaper” and “Patriotic Inferno.”
“Man,” I say, whistling low. “You building your own war zone down here?”
He shrugs, proud. “It’s the Fourth; we’re doing it right.”
I shake my head, laughing. “This is how people lose eyebrows, man.”
Luke just smirks. “They’ll grow back.”
I laugh, shaking my head, running my fingers over the top of one of the bigger boxes. “You’re insane, man.”
“Probably,” he says, setting his beer down on the workbench. “Hey, speaking of insane…” He glances toward the stairs, one brow raised. “You and Callie looked pretty cozy when we pulled up.”
My chest tightens. “What?”
He shrugs, half grinning. “Just saying. Maddie said it looked like you two were sitting awful close on the porch.”
I grab one of the Roman candle packs off the pile. “We were just talking.”