The Auntie Brigade
The diner cleared out little by little, the chaotic energy of the morning rush tapering off until it was just us and a couple of old-timers nursing stone-cold coffee at the counter.
Harper had ordered a second cinnamon roll she definitely didn't need, picking at the icing with her fork, while Tessa stirred sugar into her tea like she was trying to dissolve the world's problems with every slow, rhythmic circle of her spoon.
Me? I just sat there, staring at the crumbs on my plate, feeling like I'd been scraped raw after spilling the truth. Now that the secret was out, the air felt different—thinner, but easier to breathe.
Harper finally broke the silence, her voice sharp enough to cut through the hum of the overhead fans.
"I still can't believe it. Brandon and Chloe?
That's straight out of some trashy soap opera.
Except this is your life, which makes me want to drive to the city and key his car.
And then hers. And then maybe set his favorite suit on fire. "
"Harper—" Tessa gave her a look, gentle but firm.
"What? Don't tell me you don't want to do the same.
He humiliated her! He treated her like a footnote in her own life.
" Harper turned back to me, her eyes blazing.
"And Chloe? That girl used to braid our hair and share her secrets like we were a single soul.
She doesn't deserve your tears, Bree. She deserves a swift kick to the curb. "
I swallowed, my throat feeling like it was lined with sandpaper. "I don't even think I've cried enough yet. I thought I'd scream or throw things, but when I saw them... I just felt cold. I didn't want to give them the satisfaction of my breakdown."
Tessa reached across the table, covering my hand with hers. Her skin was warm, a contrast to the chill I couldn't seem to shake. "That took strength, Aubrey. More strength than most people would have had in that moment. You chose yourself by walking out."
I didn't feel strong. I felt like a hollowed-out tree—standing, but empty.
"And the baby," Harper said, her voice finally losing its jagged edge. "How are you holding up with that? Really?"
The question stole the air right out of my lungs.
I looked down, my palm instinctively pressing against my stomach.
Beneath the fabric of my sweater, it was just me and a secret I wasn't ready for.
"Scared. I didn't even get to process the joy of it before the floor dropped out.
One second I was staring at those two pink lines and thinking about nurseries, and the next.
.." My voice cracked. "The next, I was watching my future evaporate like a ghost."
Harper's hand landed over mine, joining Tessa's. Her eyeliner might have been sharp enough to kill, but her eyes were shimmering with unshed tears. "You're not doing this alone. You've got us. You've always had us, even when you were hundreds of miles away."
"Exactly," Tessa agreed. "You don't need a man who doesn't respect you, and you certainly don't need a friend who betrays you. You have family here, and you have us. We'll be with you for every doctor's appointment, every 3:00 AM craving, and every single step."
Tears burned hot, but for the first time since I'd stepped off that bus, they weren't fueled by grief. They were the result of the warmth pressing in from both sides, steadying me when I felt like I might finally collapse.
I laughed weakly, swiping at my eyes. "I didn't mean to unload all this on you guys before noon."
"Are you kidding?" Harper huffed, leaning back and trying to lighten the mood.
"We've been waiting years for you to come home and give us something to obsess over.
You've just delivered the juiciest drama Willow Creek has seen in a decade.
I was getting tired of talking about the mayor's new toupee. "
Tessa rolled her eyes, though her smile softened the silent scold. "Ignore her. What she means is—we're honored you trusted us."
I let out a shaky breath. "I don't know how I'm going to tell Anthony. He's going to go nuclear."
"Start small," Tessa advised, the teacher in her coming out. "One conversation at a time. You don't have to carry the whole mountain at once. Just pick up one stone today."
Harper grinned, her tone playful again. "And when you're ready to date again—which won't be soon, I know, don't glare at me—I fully expect you to avoid firefighters. They're too reckless and they smell like soot."
I groaned, but the suffocating tension in my chest loosened. "You're impossible."
"And you love me," she shot back, winking.
We lingered until the sun climbed higher, turning the diner's chrome into blinding mirrors. For the first time, I felt like I wasn't just a girl who had run away. I was a woman who had come home.
I'd only planned to grab the basics. Toothpaste, shampoo, maybe a couple of changes of clothes that didn't scream I packed in a state of clinical shock.
My suitcase had felt heavy when I left the city, but unpacking it in my old bedroom had been a wake-up call.
I'd brought four different pairs of heels and zero comfortable sweaters.
It was like part of me hadn't believed I'd actually stay.
The fluorescent lights of Willow Creek's only grocery store buzzed faintly overhead, a high-pitched hum that set my nerves on edge.
I pushed a cart with a squeaky left wheel down the aisle, tossing in a bottle of conditioner.
Then, I found myself standing paralyzed in front of the laundry detergent.
Blue bottle, green bottle, off-brand. The labels blurred together as my mind drifted back to the city.
I wondered if Chloe was sitting in my living room right now.
If Brandon had realized I'd changed my number.
The secret sitting beneath my ribs felt like a physical weight, pressing harder with every passing hour.
I reached for a random bottle just to end the ridiculous staring contest I was having with the shelf, when a voice cut through the hum.
Low. Rasping. Grounded.
"Aubrey."
I froze. My fingers curled around the plastic handle, my heartbeat stumbling into a frantic, uneven rhythm. Slowly, I turned.
Nick Harrison stood at the end of the aisle, a plastic basket hooked in one large hand.
He was wearing a dark T-shirt that clung to his broad shoulders, the ink on his forearms dark against his skin.
His hair was mussed, like he'd been running his hands through it all day at the shop.
He looked too steady, too solid for the sterile, fluorescent reality of a grocery store.
"Nick." My voice came out breathless, like I'd just run a mile.
He stepped closer, his gray eyes flicking over the sparse items in my cart before settling back on my face. "Didn't realize you were stocking up."
I forced a small, practiced smile. "I didn't exactly bring a moving van with me."
Something flickered across his face—not quite pity, but a deep, observant understanding. He didn't ask the questions everyone else did. He just nodded, sliding a box of coffee filters into his basket. "Makes sense. Hard to fit a whole life into one suitcase."
The silence stretched between us, charged with a strange, magnetic energy. My fingers tightened on the cart handle. "How was the shop today? Anthony said you were working on a restoration."
"Same as always. Metal and oil." His eyes held mine for a second too long. "Ryan stopped by. Mentioned he saw you at the diner with Harper and Tessa."
I swallowed hard, my pulse thrumming in my ears. "Yeah. We caught up."
"They're good people," he said simply. There was a hidden weight behind the statement, a subtext that whispered I'm glad you have someone looking out for you.
I looked away, pretending to be deeply interested in the ingredients of a nearby fabric softener. "Everyone seems surprised I'm back. Like they're waiting for the punchline."
"Can't blame them," Nick said, his voice dropping an octave, becoming softer. "You always swore you wouldn't be. You were the girl with the exit strategy."
I let out a shaky, self-deprecating laugh. "Guess I broke another promise. Add it to the list."
Something in his expression shifted—a subtle hardening of his jaw. He set his basket down on the linoleum and leaned back against the shelving, crossing his arms over his chest. He looked like he was settling in, like he wasn't going to let me just skitter away.
"You don't have to explain it, Aubrey. Not to the town, and definitely not to me."
The words hit me with the force of a physical blow. My throat tightened, the familiar ache of unshed tears returning. "Nick..." I started, then stopped, shaking my head. "It's... it's so much more complicated than I thought it would be."
His gray eyes searched mine, steady and unyielding. "Most things worth a damn are."
The exact same words he'd said the night before. Hearing them again, here, surrounded by breakfast cereal and cleaning supplies, almost undid me. It felt like he was offering me a hand in the middle of a storm.
Before I could find my voice, a loud, cheerful shout echoed from the front of the store. "Nick! You about done? Some of us have a shift starting and I still haven't had my caffeine!"
Anthony.
Nick's jaw tightened for a fraction of a second—a flicker of annoyance that vanished as quickly as it appeared. He pushed off the shelf and retrieved his basket. "Looks like that's my cue."
He paused, standing just a foot away. The scent of him—cedar, cold air, and something metallic—swirled around me. He leaned in just slightly, his voice low enough that only I could hear.
"Whatever brought you back... you don't have to carry it alone, Aubrey. Remember that."
He turned and walked away, his gait easy and confident.
I stood there in the middle of Aisle 4, my heart pounding against my ribs and a bottle of detergent clutched in my hand like a shield.
His words echoed louder than the buzzing lights, and for the first time, I wondered if coming home was less about running away and more about finally being found.