22
Aubrey
The day passes easier than I expected. Don’t get me wrong—there are still plenty of awkward moments, little pockets of silence that stretch too long and make my stomach twist. But today we actually talked. More than we have in… God, I don’t even know how long.
We didn’t talk about anything important. Definitely nothing about us. Even though we can both feel that conversation lurking nearby, inching closer every time our eyes meet or our hands brush or the air goes still between us.
But it’s been nice. More than nice.
For the first time in what feels like forever, I get to just… be around Trent without feeling like my heart is splitting open.
It fills me with this fragile little spark of hope—hope that maybe, somehow, after everything we’ve been through, there’s still a way for us to be friends. Because if I’m being honest, before we crossed any lines… that’s exactly what we were.
I’m not going to pretend it’ll be easy. I can’t pretend I don’t know what being with Trent feels like, or that my feelings for him have magically disappeared. I don’t think that’s even possible, not after loving him for so long.
But my heart isn’t whole right now.
And I’m not sure it ever will be again.
But I know, deep in my soul, that even if that’s true… I can’t lose him completely.
The thought lingers as I sink deeper into the bath, warm water rising around me, pulling me back into the present. My shoulders loosen, breathing steadies, and for a moment, it’s peaceful.
That is, until my phone rings loudly beside me, making me jump and reach for it on the edge of the tub.
Liv’s name flashes across the screen, and I feel myself relax a little. I slide back down into the water and answer the call.
“Hey,” I say, letting the warmth wrap around me.
“Hey, you doing okay?”
The question lands somewhere deep, stirring things I’ve been keeping carefully tucked away.
“Yeah… I’m all good.”
“How’s it been?” she asks.
“It’s been okay,” I say, brushing my fingers through the water. “I mean, the fact that I’ve been wearing the same clothes since yesterday is kind of gross, but otherwise it’s manageable.”
There’s a pause, then, “And how’s it been with Trent? Has this time together done you any good?”
I swallow, choosing my words.
“Things have been… a mix of tense and awkward,” I admit. “But today was… okay, I guess. We’ve stuck to normal topics. But I think I want to talk properly before we leave. It’d be silly not to, and I want us to be able to just… move forward. Go back to being friends.”
“Oh.” Her tone shifts, careful and measured, like she’s handling something fragile. “Friends. I mean—that’s great, if that’s what you want.”
“It is,” I reply quickly, maybe too quickly.
“Anyway,” I say, changing the subject before she can hear it in my tone. “Enough about me. How are you doing?”
“I’m doing okay,” she says, “I had a therapy session today, we talked a lot about my childhood and my parents and… all that fun stuff.”
“I’m proud of you.” I say warmly.
“Thanks.” She says softly. “It’s crazy, you know? Going back through things I used to gloss over—things I thought didn’t matter—and realizing how much they actually affected me. I feel so much lighter now that I’ve got it all out.”
She goes quiet for a beat, and I wonder if talking about it stirred something.
Then she adds softly, “But the biggest thing that happened was… Kade asked to join the session.”
“Oh wow,” I say, sitting up a little. “That’s good, right?”
“Yeah, it’s huge,” she says, “My therapist has been suggesting it for a while, but Kade kept refusing. Then he said he was talking to Brandon and Trent the day we did cake tasting at your mom’s, and they had to drive over the Mayridge Bridge to get to and from the hospital.
I guess whatever they talked about… encouraged him to ask if he could come with me. ”
“And how was it?”
“It was hard, hearing his fears, hearing how it looked from his point of view, we both cried a lot but at the same time it bought us closer which is crazy because I’m obsessed with that man.
” She chuckles lightly. “He said he found it helpful and asked if he could see her for some one-to-one sessions.”
“Thank God,” I whisper, tears burning at the corners of my eyes.
We’ve all been so worried about Kade—about how he shut down after what happened at the lake, how his whole body goes rigid whenever Liv isn’t in sight.
You can’t force someone to get help; they have to want it themselves.
All you can do is stand beside them and hope.
I’m just so relieved that he’s finally talking to someone.
We talk for a little while longer, long enough for my fingers and toes to wrinkle before we finally say our goodbyes.
I drag myself out of the bath, dry off, and pull back on the same clothes I drove up here in. Then I head back out into the room, bracing myself for whatever comes next.
Trent is propped up against the headboard, one arm tucked behind him. He watches me with that unreadable half-smile he does when he’s not sure what to say.
“Nice bath?” he asks, his voice low, careful.
“Uh—yeah.” I fuss with the hem of my top like it suddenly needs fixing. “Super relaxing.”
“Good.” He nods once, the word hanging between us before he tries again. “Are you hungry? I can order some food?”
“No, I’m good, thanks.” I say, waving him off gently.
I give him a soft smile before sitting on the edge of the bed with my back toward him, fighting the swell of emotion that rises at how things are between us.
“Is it always going to be this hard?” I ask quietly, my voice barely holding together.
He exhales, the sound low and tired. “I don’t want it to be.”
“Me either,” I whisper.
Silence stretches for a moment; I can almost hear our words echo around the room. Something in that stillness pulls me around, and I turn to look at him before I can stop myself — though my eyes slip away almost immediately.
Trent drags in a slow breath. “I’m sorry that I came along on this trip and made things more difficult.” He scrubs a hand through his hair, shoulders sagging. “You were right—if I hadn’t agreed, you would have been in your car and we wouldn’t be here now.”
“I was out of line yesterday,” I admit, shaking my head as heat creeps into my cheeks. “I was just overwhelmed and anxious the whole day and then everything kind of just spiraled from there. It wasn’t fair of me to blame you for your truck breaking down. I’m sorry.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for, Bree.” His voice roughens, and I finally lift my eyes to his.
There’s so much in them it almost hurts to look—regret, hope, fear all tangled together.
“I guess I just hoped this trip might give us a chance to clear the air. I miss you. And I care about you… so fucking much.” His breath catches, like the words cost him something.
“I just need to know there’s a way back for us. ”
“I think we find a way back by trying to being friends again.” I swallow hard, forcing the words out even though they scrape on the way up. “Before everything fell apart you were my friend, and I miss that.”
He hesitates. For a split second, something flickers across his face—hurt, quick and raw—before he smooths his expression. “Friends?” he asks, the word quieter than before.
“Yeah,” I say softly.
“If that’s what you want.” His voice is careful now, like he’s afraid one wrong move will send me running.
“It is,” I say again— for second time tonight, but it feels heavier this time.
“Okay.” He nods, but the word sounds small, like it barely holds together.
I watch as he eases back into the pillows, his shoulders sinking with the kind of exhaustion that isn’t physical. The distance settles between us again, quiet and familiar, like something neither of us knows how to bridge anymore.
It was always going to be hard. And even though I can see the guilt etched into him—how heavily he carries it—I’m sure part of him is relieved too. Relieved that things might finally shift back toward something steadier, something less charged and raw.
I never hated Trent for what happened. I never even came close.
But that doesn’t mean I wasn’t hurt or angry or—if I’m honest—confused in ways I still don’t fully understand.
Maybe choosing to be his friend again, choosing to move forward instead of circling the same old wreckage, is my way of putting some closure to all of it.
My way of letting go.