Crashing Down
The lake shimmered like a sheet of hammered glass under the relentless heat of the July sun, the surface only broken by the occasional, thunderous splash of kids cannonballing off the high dock.
I hadn't been back to this cove in years—not since the high school bonfires where Harper would sneak in cheap, neon-colored wine coolers and Tessa would spend the whole night being the weary voice of reason, making sure no one fell into the embers.
Now, sitting on a faded patchwork quilt spread across the scorching sand, the scenery felt both achingly familiar and impossibly distant. It was like looking at a photograph of a life that belonged to someone else.
Anthony was currently chest-deep in the water with Ryan and a few of the other guys from the firehouse.
Their boisterous laughter carried easily across the water, a sound of uncomplicated joy that I envied with every fiber of my being.
Harper sat beside me, hidden behind oversized tortoiseshell sunglasses, sipping lemonade like she was a queen holding court over a very sandy kingdom.
Tessa sat on my other side, her toes buried deep in the cool sand beneath the surface, smiling softly at the chaos.
And then there was Nick.
He wasn't swimming. Of course he wasn't. Nick Harrison wasn't the type to splash around like a teenager.
He stood near the edge of the dock, his arms crossed over his chest, his tan skin making his tattoos stand out like dark, intricate stories against his muscles.
He was watching Anthony, but I could feel his focus drifting.
Every now and then, his gaze would flick toward our quilt—quick, sharp, and utterly unreadable.
It shouldn't have made my stomach flip. It shouldn't have made the air in my lungs feel tight. But it did.
"You're thinking too hard again, Bree," Harper said suddenly, nudging my shoulder with hers. "I can practically hear the gears grinding from here."
I blinked, dragging my eyes away from the dock and back to the pattern of the quilt. "I'm not. I'm just... enjoying the sun."
"Liar," Tessa said gently, her voice like a cool breeze. "Your forehead does that little wrinkle thing right between your eyebrows when you're lost in your own head. You've had it since you were five."
I sighed, tugging at the hem of my tank top, feeling the heat of the day settle into my bones. "Guess I've been in my head a lot lately. Hard not to be."
Harper snorted, adjusted her glasses. "Understandable, considering your life turned into a country song overnight. But look around. Sun, lake, best friends. You should try to relax, even if it's just for an hour."
Relax. The word felt like a foreign language. How was I supposed to relax when I felt like a ticking time bomb? I picked at a loose thread in the blanket, debating whether to keep the mask on or let it slip. But Harper and Tessa were my anchors; they knew the shape of my silence better than anyone.
"I have a doctor's appointment Tuesday," I said finally, my voice barely a whisper against the sound of the waves.
The atmosphere in our little circle shifted instantly. Harper's brows lifted above the rim of her sunglasses. "Tuesday?"
I nodded, my throat suddenly dry as the desert. "For the baby. Mom's coming with me. It's the first... the first real thing."
Harper let out a long, low whistle, her expression flickering between her usual sass and a fierce, protective maternal instinct. "Damn, Bree. That makes it real. Like, heartbeat-real."
Tessa squeezed my hand, her fingers warm and steady. "I'm glad you're going. It's a big step, but it's an important one. How are you feeling about it?"
I let out a shaky, brittle laugh. "Terrified? I don't even know what to expect. I just know that every time I think about the future, I feel like I'm standing on the edge of a cliff. I can't do this alone, girls. I really can't."
"You're not alone," Tessa said firmly, her eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that brooked no argument.
"Yeah," Harper added, slipping her glasses off so I could see the sincerity in her eyes.
"You've got the Auntie Brigade. You've got your mom.
And—" Her gaze darted toward the dock, where Nick stood like a dark, silent shadow against the sparkling blue water.
She smirked, a knowing, mischievous glint in her eye.
"Well. Seems like you've got more than you realize, if you'd just look up. "
My stomach clenched, a sudden heat rising to my cheeks that had nothing to do with the sun. "Harper, don't."
"What? I'm just observing the scenery," she asked innocently, though her grin said she was doing anything but.
Tessa gave her a warning look, shaking her head. "Don't start, Harp. She has enough on her plate."
I forced my gaze down to the sand, my heart racing.
Nick had no idea. Anthony had no idea. To them, I was just the sister who came home to find herself.
But the way Harper said it—the way Nick's presence seemed to loom over the entire cove—made the world feel smaller.
It was like the universe was daring me to imagine a life where I didn't have to be so afraid.
Anthony's voice carried over the water again, loud and boisterous as he splashed Ryan.
It was a happy sound, a Willow Creek sound.
It should have made me feel lighter, but all I could think about was Tuesday.
The doctor. The reality. The storm was coming, and I was just trying to keep my head above water.
It hit me all at once.
One second, I was fine, listening to Harper talk about a disastrous date she'd had. The next, the smell of charred hot dogs drifting from the nearby grill hit the back of my throat, mixing with the sharp, oily tang of gasoline from the jet skis idling down the shore.
The combination was violent. It twisted in my stomach, sour and unforgiving.
At first, I tried to swallow it down. I smiled weakly when Harper asked if I wanted another lemonade, praying my face wasn't as green as I felt.
But then the nausea surged—a hot, rolling wave that left no room for politeness.
"Aubrey?" Tessa's voice was full of concern, but I couldn't answer.
I scrambled to my feet, my world spinning. I bolted. I headed down the narrow, pine-needle-covered path that led behind a thick grove of trees, one hand clamped over my mouth, the other clutching my stomach as if I could hold my dignity together.
I made it just past the first bend in the trail before my knees hit the dirt.
I doubled over, retching until my throat burned and my eyes streamed with tears.
It was ugly and raw, and the humiliation of it crawled hot across my skin.
I wanted to disappear into the earth; I wanted to be anywhere but here, broken and sick in the woods.
The brush rustled behind me. Heavy, deliberate footsteps on the dry needles. I squeezed my eyes shut, praying it was Tessa or Harper—someone I could lie to, someone I could push away with a shaky excuse about heatstroke.
"Aubrey."
The voice was lower. Steadier. A deep rumble that vibrated in the air around me.
Nick.
I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, a fresh sob rising in my throat. "Go away, Nick. Please. Just go away."
"Not happening," he said, his voice firm but devoid of judgment.
His footsteps came closer until I could see his scuffed boots in the periphery of my vision. He crouched down beside me, but he didn't crowd me. He stayed a respectful distance away, his presence a solid, grounding weight in the chaos. "Breathe. Just breathe, Aubrey. Slow it down."
I dragged in a shaky breath, the air tasting of pine and dirt. My whole body was rattling like a loose shutter in a storm. I couldn't look at him. I couldn't bear for the man who had seen me as a vibrant girl to see me like this—haggard, sick, and falling apart.
But then, his hand settled lightly on my back.
It was warm. It was steady. It was the touch of someone who wasn't afraid of a mess. And that was the final blow to the dam I'd been building for weeks. It didn't just crack; it vanished.
A sob tore out of me, raw and jagged. I buried my face in my hands, shaking my head as the tears finally came in a flood. "I can't do this anymore. I can't keep pretending I'm fine. I'm not fine, Nick. I'm so far from fine."
He didn't say a word. He just stayed there, a silent anchor in my storm, his hand moving in slow, rhythmic circles between my shoulder blades.
"It's all ruined," I choked out, the words tumbling over each other.
"Everything I worked for. My life in the city, the wedding, Brandon, Chloe.
.. it's all ash. And now..." My voice broke, a high, trembling sound that felt like a plea.
"I'm pregnant, Nick. I'm pregnant and I'm alone and I don't know what the hell I'm supposed to do with a life I didn't ask for. "
The words echoed through the trees, hanging in the humid air. I waited for the flinch. I waited for him to pull his hand away, to stand up and look at me with the pity or the shock I deserved.
He didn't move.
Instead, he reached out and pulled me gently against his chest. One arm wrapped around my waist, pulling me into the solid heat of him, while his other hand steadied the back of my head.
His shirt smelled of motor oil, cedar, and the clean scent of soap.
It was the smell of Willow Creek. It was the smell of safety.
I cried harder then, clutching the fabric of his shirt as if it were the only thing keeping me from spinning off the face of the earth.
"Shh," he murmured, his voice a low vibration against my temple. "You don't have to figure it all out tonight, Aubrey. You don't have to have a plan for the next twenty years by sunset."
"I don't even know where to start," I whispered into his chest. "I can't tell Anthony. He'll go to prison for what he'll do to Brandon. And Brandon... he doesn't even know. I don't want him to know. I don't want that lie anywhere near this baby."
Nick's arm tightened around me just a fraction—enough for me to feel the promise in the gesture. "Then he won't be. You hear me? He doesn't get a say in your peace."
He pulled back just enough to look me in the eye, his gray gaze steady and unblinking. "You're not alone in this, Aubrey. Not now. Not for one second. If you need someone to stand between you and the world, I'm right here."
The words cracked something deep inside me, something that had been frozen since the night I walked into my apartment and saw the truth.
The tears kept coming, but the terror... the terror started to recede. Nick didn't move. He didn't waver. He just held me in the quiet shadows of the trees, letting me come undone until I was ready to start putting myself back together.
And I let myself believe him.