15. Chapter 15
Cate
July - Twelve Years Ago
The lake was quieter than the cabin.
No music. No laughter. Just water lapping softly against the shore and the sound of birds somewhere above us. I didn’t stop walking until we were far enough away that I knew no one could overhear us.
Only then did I sit.
Amy followed, settling beside me on the fallen log, her knee brushing mine. She didn’t say anything at first, giving me time to process.
“I need you to promise me something,” I said.
She turned toward me immediately. “Okay.”
“Don’t tell anyone what I’m about to say.”
Her brow furrowed. “Cate…”
“Please.”
She nodded. “Okay, okay. I promise.”
I picked at a splinter in the wood, buying myself a few seconds I didn’t really have.
“Cate, what’s going on?” Amy asked impatiently. “Did John hurt you?”
I wrinkled my nose and shook my head, “No, it’s nothing like that.”
Then her hand shot up to her mouth. “Oh my God. Are you pregnant?”
“Amy!” I groaned, “I’m being serious here.”
“Being pregnant is serious, Cate.”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I am not pregnant.”
“Then what is it?”
“John…” I sighed, needing to just spit it out. “He told me he loves me.”
The words felt unreal outside my head.
Amy blinked. Then she smiled. And then, infuriatingly, she laughed.
“Oh,” she said, like I’d just told her it was going to rain. “That’s it?”
“That’s not ‘it,’” I snapped, heat rushing to my face. “That’s… everything.”
She sobered immediately. “Okay. Talk to me.”
I wrapped my arms around myself, staring out at the water. “He said it like it wasn’t a big deal. Like it didn’t come with conditions. Like he wasn’t asking for anything.”
“That’s because he wasn’t.”
I shook my head. “Men don’t do that.”
“Bad men don’t,” Amy corrected gently.
I swallowed. “Every time someone’s said those words to me before, it was right before they wanted something. Or… right before they left.”
She was quiet for a moment.
“Oh, Cate. John’s not like your dad, and he’s not some creep just trying to get something from you.”
“I know,” I whispered. “That’s what scares me.”
I finally looked at her, my voice cracking. “What if I don’t know how to be the kind of person someone loves like that?”
Amy reached for my hand. “Cate… you already are.”
I laughed weakly. “You’re biased.”
“Maybe. But I’m also not blind.” She squeezed my fingers. “You live with him half the time. You cook together. You fight about nothing. You laugh about everything. You look at him like the world makes more sense when he’s in it.”
My throat tightened. “I didn’t say it back,” I admitted.
Amy’s eyes softened. “I know.”
That surprised me. “What? How…”
“You’re wearing it on your face.”
I stared down at my hands. “I wanted to. I just… froze.”
“That doesn’t mean you don’t love him.”
I shook my head. “I don’t even know what love is supposed to feel like.”
She leaned back, thinking. “It’s not fireworks all the time. It’s… safety. It’s wanting to go home, even when you already are home.”
That landed harder than anything else she’d said. Because when I pictured home, it wasn’t my apartment.
It was him.
“I think I love him,” I whispered.
Amy smiled, slow and knowing. “Yeah. You do.”
Fear crept in immediately after. “What if I ruin it?” I asked.
“You might,” she said honestly. “But you’ll ruin it faster by running.”
I stood abruptly, my heart racing. What if I already ruined it? “I need to tell him.”
She smiled. “I know.”
“I need to tell him now.”
“Then go.”
I didn’t hesitate.
I ran.
Not away from Amy, but away from the certainty that if I stopped moving, I’d lose my nerve.
The trail blurred beneath my feet, branches snapping back at my legs, pine needles biting into the soles of my cheap flip-flops. I didn’t slow down, didn’t think. I just ran, heart pounding loud enough to drown out everything else.
I love you.
The words echoed loudly inside my head.
I cut off the path, ignoring the sting of twigs and rocks, focused only on getting back to the cabin. Back to John. Back before I could overthink this into something ugly and irreversible.
That was when I slammed into something solid.
…or someone.
We both went down hard.
I scraped my knee, my elbow, my palm. The back of my head landed hard on a rock that jutted out of the ground at an odd angle. Pain bloomed sharp and immediate, but it barely registered over the rush of adrenaline and embarrassment.
“What the hell?” Lindsay snapped, already sitting up, inspecting her nails like that was the real tragedy.
“I… I’m sorry,” I said automatically, scrambling backward.
“Watch where you’re going!” She flicked dirt from her dress, eyes flashing. “You could’ve ruined these.”
Then she stood, brushed herself off, flipped her hair, and walked away without another word.
I stayed where I was for a second longer, dizzy and stinging, staring at the trees like they’d betrayed me personally.
My flip-flop strap snapped when I tried to stand.
Of course it did.
I kicked them off and shoved them under my arm, walking barefoot the rest of the way, each step grounding me whether I wanted it to or not.