13. Chapter 13
Cate
July - Twelve years ago
Istudied myself in the mirror, running my hands down my stomach and over my hips, pinching at skin that had never bothered me before.
Ugh. Since when did I do this?
I exhaled and let my hands fall to my sides. Maybe I didn’t need to stop with the milkshakes. Maybe I just needed to stop letting my brain talk to me like it hated me.
“Cate! You ready?” John’s voice drifted up through the open window, bright and impatient in that way that always made my chest feel too full.
“Almost!” I called back, grabbing the black satin robe from the hook and slipping it on. I tied it loosely, then paused a beat, listening.
He was moving around downstairs - cupboards, drawers, that familiar thud of him setting something down too hard because he was excited. Coyote Ridge did that to him. The mountains flipped some internal switch that made him lighter, happier… more himself.
“We’re all packed down here!” he shouted from the kitchen. “The only thing missing is you!”
I smiled despite myself, tugged my hair into a loose ponytail, and headed for the stairs.
The kitchen was a controlled disaster. Cooler by the door. Bags lined up like soldiers. John in an old T-shirt and jeans, keys in his hand, looking like he’d been up for hours just waiting for the day to start.
I stopped in front of him and did a slow, exaggerated turn.
“Well?” I asked, lifting my chin. “Do I pass inspection?”
His reaction was immediate. Eyebrows up, jaw slack, eyes dragging over me like he had all the time in the world.
“What… uh,” he cleared his throat, visibly regrouping. “What are you wearing?”
I trailed my fingers down the smooth fabric. “Do you like it?”
When I loosened the knot and the robe fell open, nothing scandalous, just lace and suggestion, his breath stuttered. He stepped closer without thinking, hands finding my waist like they belonged there.
“I don’t know,” he said, voice low. “I think we should take those off.”
I rose onto my toes and brushed my mouth over his, smiling when he groaned… right before his phone rang.
Perfect timing.
John’s eyes flicked toward the counter like he was offended by the sound. I pressed my face into his neck, inhaling him, cedar and sun and something warm underneath. “You better get that,” I whispered.
He hesitated. Like he was genuinely considering letting it ring forever.
I stepped back, letting the robe slide off my shoulders and pool at my feet, and his gaze followed it like it was the beginning of a prayer.
“You’re evil,” he muttered.
I grinned. “Maybe.”
Then I turned and ran upstairs before he could catch me.
His groan echoed through the house, and I laughed all the way down the hallway.
I flopped onto the bed, energy thrumming beneath my skin. Somewhere along the way, John had become my center - not in a way that scared me, but in a way that felt… solid. Like finding something you didn’t realize you’d been missing until it was there.
I was halfway down a very dangerous mental path involving cabins and stars and things I probably shouldn’t be thinking about when he appeared in the doorway, holding his phone out to me like it was a surrender flag.
“It’s for you.”
I frowned. “Who is it?”
He gave me a look. “Amy.”
Of course it was.
I took the phone, already bracing myself. “Hello?”
“Hey,” Amy sighed, and my stomach tightened. That sigh never meant good news.
I covered the receiver and mouthed I’ll be down in a minute to John, who hovered in the doorway like he didn’t trust me alone with my own best friend. Then I turned away and asked quietly, “What’s going on?”
“Jim’s brother showed up.”
I paused mid–pulling on my shorts. “Trevor?”
“Yeah. Out of nowhere.”
Jim’s brother - the golden child who married the perfect woman and then vanished. The one Jim never talked about without going quiet. The name that always came with a strange heaviness, like the story had an ending nobody wanted to say out loud.
“How bad is it?” I asked.
There was a pause. Then, softer, “I don’t think we can come.”
I closed my eyes. “Amy…”
“She threw him out,” she whispered. “Like… he’s got nowhere else to go.”
That did it. I sat down hard on the edge of the bed, rubbing my forehead, refusing to give up.
“You have to come,” I said, gentler now. “Just… bring him with you.”
Another pause. “Cate…”
“It’ll be good for him,” I blurted, talking faster than my brain could process the words coming from my mouth. “Fresh air. Distraction. Space away from - whatever this is. And I have enough food here to feed a small army, so…”
“You’re serious?”
“Yes,” I said, already nodding to myself. “We’ll figure it out.”
“And John?” she asked, voice cautious.
I hesitated half a second and glanced toward the doorway. John was still there, leaning against the frame, watching me with quiet curiosity, and something else too. Like he’d already decided I wasn’t a problem he needed to manage. Like he trusted me.
“He won’t mind,” I said, and meant it.
Amy exhaled. “Let me talk to Jim.”
When I hung up, John stepped closer. “Everything okay?”
“Amy’s coming,” I said. “With Jim. And his brother.”
He blinked once. “Okay.”
Just like that.
No questions. No tension. No annoyed sigh that he’d have to share the week. No why would you invite a stranger? No we planned this.
Just okay.
Something in my chest loosened in a way that felt like relief and fear all wrapped together.
I smiled and kissed him, quick, and grateful. “Thank you.”
He shrugged like it was nothing, but his hand skimmed my waist, lingering like it wasn’t. “We’ll make it work.”
Downstairs, Baby barked once, as if she approved.
The drive up was warm and loud and easy. Windows down. Music up, Carlie Rae Jepsen’s “Call Me Maybe” blasting through the speakers. John sang off-key on purpose just to make me laugh, and Baby’s head hung out the window like she was smiling too, her ears flapping, tongue lolling.
At one point, John thumped the steering wheel to the beat and said, very seriously, “This song is a masterpiece.”
“It’s a crime,” I corrected, leaning over to steal a kiss at a stoplight.
He took it like it was his right.
When the road started to climb, the air changed. Cooler. Cleaner. Pine and sun-warmed earth. Baby sat up straighter like she could smell the lake before we even saw it.
When we pulled into the cabin lot, I hopped out first and stretched, breathing in the view like it was mine.
Because, in a way, it was.
Baby bounded out of the truck ahead of us, nose to the ground, tail wagging, already convinced this place belonged to her. John laughed and called after her, “Don’t go stealing somebody’s sandwich again, Beast.”
“She was framed,” I said.
“She was guilty,” he corrected, grabbing the cooler. “And she’s proud of it.”
Baby looked over her shoulder as if she understood and barked once.
I grinned.
A silver Toyota Camry pulled in a few minutes later, dust kicking up behind it. Amy stepped out first, her eyes going wide as she took in the trees, the lake glittering in the distance, the cabin nestled like it had been dropped into a postcard.
“Okay,” she breathed. “Wow.”
“Told you,” I said smugly, already moving toward her.
Jim got out next, tired and trying to look normal. And then Trevor.
He didn’t slam the door. Didn’t stomp. Didn’t glare. He moved like someone trying to take up as little space as possible. Shoulders slightly hunched. Hands shoved in his pockets. His eyes looked too sharp, like he’d slept in them wrong.
He didn’t look at me right away, and when he did, he just looked… lost.
Something in me tugged.
I walked over and offered a smile that was as real as I could make it. “Trevor?”
His gaze flicked up. He nodded once, like it cost him something. “Yeah.”
“I’m Cate.” I held out my hand.
He took it. His grip was weak. His skin was cold. Like he hadn’t been eating or drinking water or doing anything but surviving the last twenty-four hours.
“I’m glad you came,” I said, and meant it. “This week will be good for you. Fresh air. No… city noise.”
His mouth twitched like he almost wanted to smile. “Thanks.”
Amy hovered nearby, worried and hopeful and exhausted all at once.
“Come on,” I said, turning back toward the cabin. “Let’s get you inside. You’ll love it.”
John came up behind me, bags in both hands, calm as ever. He gave Jim a man-to-man nod, then looked at Trevor like he was just… a person. Not a problem.
For reasons I couldn’t name, that mattered.
We hauled everything in, laughter and small talk and Baby weaving between legs, the whole thing feeling like it was going to be fun.
Until it wasn’t.
The moment we hit the upstairs hallway, the air shifted. Three rooms. One master. One smaller. One smallest. And suddenly it wasn’t a cabin trip, it was a math problem.
And I sucked at math.
Trevor paused in the doorway of the room Amy and Jim had been gravitating toward, as if he’d followed the energy and didn’t realize what he was doing until he’d already done it.
“Uh,” Jim started, voice careful.
Amy’s smile faltered.
Trevor looked between them, confusion flashing across his face like he’d stepped into a room mid-argument. “I can…” he began, but the words died before they could land.
Everyone looked at me, like I had the answer.
And I did. I knew what I should do. I should fix it. I should rearrange things and smooth it over and keep everyone happy…
Before I could open my mouth, John stepped forward.
“We’ll take the couch,” he said easily.
I turned to him, startled. “John…”
“It’s fine,” he said, already lifting our bags like it was a decision he’d made an hour ago. “It’s a hide-a-bed. We’ll be okay.”
Something twisted in my chest. Gratitude, guilt, love, all tangled together.
Because he didn’t say it like a martyr, he said it like it wasn’t even a question.
Amy’s eyes softened. Jim let out a breath. Trevor looked like he might argue, but didn’t. Like he didn’t know what he was allowed to want.
John walked downstairs without complaint, without resentment, without asking for anything in return.
I stood there with the weight of everyone else’s needs in my hands and felt that strange, unfamiliar sting of… this is what being chosen feels like.
Quietly and without conditions.
Baby settled at my feet, curling close like she understood exactly where she was needed.