Chapter 15
Chapter Fifteen
The fire pit crackled like it had something to add to the conversation.
Fallon pushed her bare feet closer to the warmth and let her head tip back against the Adirondack chair, the sky black and velvet, overhead.
Nights like these were a contradiction. They pretended to be peaceful.
They lulled a soul into a sense of serenity.
They cut through armor meant to protect, while the beauty of the evening hid the shadows that stole the precious and innocent.
When she’d lived with Trent, she’d sit out under the tiki hut at Mallor’s Landing, stare at the lily pads, and try to forget about grief, ghosts, and loneliness.
And for a brief moment, it worked. Until the darkness crept into her mind like fog rolling across the Glades, reaching into the roots of the mangrove, reminding her that life had hardened her in ways she couldn’t ignore.
Soft laughter filled the air and dragged her back to the moment. She’d learned to live for the times when the world seemed to stand still, and she could allow herself the joys of what life could be. Of what she believed it should be.
The bed and breakfast Audra and Dawson owned sat tucked behind her and her friends.
The old, rundown shell had been turned into a cozy rental with string lights, mismatched furniture, and a fire pit that smelled faintly of orange wood.
Around the pit were some of the best women Calusa Cove had to offer.
Audra was a native to the town, and she had a rich history that people still enjoyed whispering about under a bright moon around a fire much like this one.
Then there was Baily. She’d suffered profound loss but managed to keep it all together while fighting for her family legacy.
Fallon shifted her gaze to Trinity and smiled, thinking about how odd it was, yet utterly perfect, that she’d formed such a tight bond with the other two women.
Trinity had been born into money. She’d been raised by a mom who’d told her she was better than everyone in this town When Trinity had been younger, she’d tended to treat everyone as though she believed it—including Audra and Baily. But now, they were like sisters.
That thought brought Fallon right back to ghosts—to Tessa. Fallon lifted her tequila and gulped, doing her best to push the past into the flames and refocused on the conversation, which she’d missed the last few minutes of.
“… And then my lovely little Petra looked me square in the eye, with her hands on her hips and asked me if this baby was going to come out of my vagina.” She patted her belly.
“Now, I know where Victor learned that word.” Audra smiled. “Of course, he also knows the word penis, and he uses it at the strangest times.”
“What I want to know is how she figured out how babies are born,” Baily said.
“Fletcher and I have had to explain all sorts of things to Todd and Chad, including how to make a baby.” Baily smacked her palm to her forehead.
“Hardest conversation… ever. Sadly, they already knew most of it. But Petra is only three.”
“She found my baby birthing book.” Trinity shrugged. “Keaton and I—well, mostly me—are looking into alternative options. Like water birth at home.”
Everyone around the fire pit burst out laughing—including Fallon. Anyone who knew Trinity, knew that she hated being in pain, even though she didn’t want drugs for fear of what it would do to her baby. She also didn’t want stretch marks or scars.
Trinity was an awesome person. Kind. Considerate. Generous. But calling her vain would be the understatement of the year.
“It’s not that funny.” Trinity leaned over and snagged a cracker from the tray. “Even Keaton didn’t laugh at me.” She smiled. “But I did tell him about it while he was stuffing his face full of his favorite home-cooked meal.”
Fallon’s chest tightened, and a vision of Buddy from last night flashed across her mind.
They were in his kitchen, making dinner together.
It was light, fun, and simple. She hadn’t put any context on it because she’d cooked with other men she’d dated before.
She loved to cook. She loved food. It had always been her way of decompressing—of washing away a bad day—or just enjoying a quiet moment with someone she liked being around.
But all of a sudden, something clicked, snapped into place—and she realized this was different.
This simple domestic task shared with Buddy filled spaces inside her that she hadn’t known existed.
This had hadn’t just been about fulfilling her body’s demand for food while scratching an itch with someone convenient.
They hadn’t simply been going through the motions.
Her connection with Buddy was honest and real—no pretense, no games, just something solid she could actually trust.
The image of her and Buddy flashing through her brain sent longing twisting trough her veins, and she wanted more—craved it with a hunger that terrified her.
But in the strangest way, it anchored a truth she'd been running from for years—the idea that she could want someone and keep them.
That wanting didn't have to mean losing.
Baily leaned over and placed her hand on Fallon’s leg and squeezed. “I’m sorry. It’s hard for us to sit around and not talk about families.”
Audra lifted her glass. “Okay, new rule. No discussing husbands or kids unless it’s absolutely hilarious or involves bodily fluids.”
Trinity snorted. “In this group, that’s the same thing.”
Fallon laughed, the buzz of the tequila warming her edges. She’d needed this. Women. Laughter. Connection.
The word stuck.
Her chest tightened. When was the last time she'd let herself have this? Real friends. Real conversation. Not just surface-level politeness or professional courtesy.
Not since Tessa.
Buddy had cracked something open. These women—Baily, Trinity, Audra—were slipping through that crack, filling spaces she'd kept empty for years.
She'd had Trent once. But back then, she'd been too raw. Too aware that connection meant attachment and attachment meant loss. She'd pushed him away before he could leave first.
Buddy was different. Bigger. Brighter. Something solid she could actually hold onto.
Which made him just as terrifying as a gator waiting submerged in dark water—patient, invisible, ready to strike.
Trinity nudged her foot. “You’ve been quiet, and you're usually one to take a shot at Fletcher. And if Chloe were here, I know you’d have a good story about Hayes falling off his little fishing boat the other day.”
“Yeah, that was a good one. But, right now, I’m enjoying the show,” Fallon said, swirling the last bit of her beverage. “It’s like National Geographic: Domestic Edition.”
“Domestic?” Audra cackled. “Honey, have you met our husbands? Keaton once tried to convince me that using duct tape to secure Christmas lights was ‘structurally sound.’ And Fletcher wears Crocs in public.”
“Those were a gift,” Baily protested. “From someone he helped after falling on a trail. He was being polite.”
“He kept wearing them,” Trinity said. “That man does not need encouragement.”
Fallon smiled, but something inside tugged—soft, uncertain. The warmth of the fire blurred into a sweetness she hadn't expected. Watching these women tease their husbands, talk about their kids, build this little community of chaos and comfort… it hit somewhere she rarely let herself look.
The future.
A real one.
A house. A yard. A dog. Maybe a kid—a little girl—with a stubborn streak and her father’s eyes.
It wasn’t a dream she chased. Never had been. Fallon had always lived moment to moment because she knew better than anyone how fast life could tilt. One second, she’s making spring break plans with her best friend—the next, she’s searching the Everglades for a body.
But lately…
Buddy had become a complication she hadn’t seen coming.
Older, sure. A little damaged, absolutely.
But steady, and warm in ways that terrified her.
And when she let herself look even half an inch too far into the future, she saw a white picket fence—something she didn’t think she wanted until she could imagine wanting it with him.
Not that she was in love with him.
That would be ridiculous.
Dangerous.
They’d been dating for a week. It was intense. Wild. And the love making—well, just wow.
But if she wasn’t careful, he was the kind of man she could fall in love with.
And maybe she wasn’t being as careful as she thought.
“You’re doing it again,” Audra said gently, pulling Fallon back. “The thinking face. The one where you stare past the horizon into space like you're already on a rocket ship heading for the moon.”
Fallon rubbed her forehead. “I don’t have a thinking face.”
Baily raised a brow. “Sweetie, your thinking face has a thinking face.”
“We started these nights so none of us had to be lost in our own thoughts. So that we always had a safe place to land and say anything, no matter how outrageous we think it might be. So, whatever it is that’s got you looking more constipated than Fletcher when he can’t figure something out,” Trinity said, eyes twinkling.
“Just let it out. It’s not going anywhere but up to the sky with smoke from the fire. ”
“Is it about Buddy?” Baily asked.
Heat crept up Fallon’s neck. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, she’s absolutely talking about Buddy,” Audra said. “Because I’ve seen that look before. Trinity had it for a year before she and Keaton finally got together. It’s the ‘I actually like this man, but not sure how to deal with it’ look.”
Fallon lifted her tumbler, tossed her head back, and polished off her drink. “It’s… complicated.”
“Good complicated?” Baily asked. “Or run-in-the-opposite-direction complicated? Because this group knows all about relationships that don’t have a clear path. We’ve all had to jump over things, crawl under them, and dodge a few bullets to get to where we are.”