And there, just visible behind a clump of trees, satAcen’struck.Quiet.Shadowed.Watching.
Her breath caught.
Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure she’d survived the past after all.
CHAPTERFIFTEEN
Rose didn’t go home after practice.
Instead, she drove.
No destination, no plan—just the steady hum of the road beneath her tires and the gnawing wildfire in her chest that refused to quiet.Shekept the windows cracked, the humid night air spilling in like a second heartbeat, sticky and insistent.Thedashboard clock glowed, ticking away minutes she couldn’t account for.Everyturn of the steering wheel felt both aimless and necessary, like if she just kept moving long enough, the heat inside her might burn itself out.
But of course, it wasn’t just heat.ItwasBriana.
OnlyBrianacould still rattle her this way after twenty years.
Rose hated that truth with every mile marker she passed.
It wasn’t just the surprise of seeing her again—it was the memoryBrianaunearthed simply by existing.Thatache of betrayal that had never fully scabbed over.Andbeneath all of it was something worse: that ugly, dangerous whisper ofwhat if.
What if things could’ve been different if they’d all just told the truth back then?
What ifAcenhad fought for her instead of walking away?
What ifBrianahadn’t lied to her face, hadn’t stolen something she could never give back?
What ifRoseherself had dared to ask why instead of letting her pride close the door?
The road stretched on, lined with trees and fields that shimmered in the dusky light.Herheadlights caught flashes of old barns, broken fences, a deer darting across the ditch.Thefamiliar landmarks blurred together until she couldn’t tell if she was circlingPickwickor circling herself.
By the time she finally parked, she realized her hands had carried her somewhere her heart knew better than her head.Thelake.
PickwickLakelay sprawled before her, dark and gleaming under the bruised sky.Thewater reflected the last shreds of daylight like broken glass, violet and copper streaks caught on a restless surface.Thedam a black silhouette against the colors.Sheslid out of the truck and perched on the hood, her bare feet dangling, the metal warm beneath her.
The air smelled of fish and honeysuckle, with an undercurrent of damp earth that reminded her of summers spent sneaking out past curfew.Outhere, cicadas sang their endless chorus, and the world felt both infinite and crushingly small.
Rose tipped her head back, staring at the sky deepening into indigo.Maybeshe needed to stop running from the ghosts that haunted her.ThePolaroid.Thenote.Briana’svoice like a blade disguised as honey.Acen’seyes that still had the power to make her heart stutter.
Maybe it was time to face them.
She didn’t know how long she sat there before the moon rose, a pale coin climbing slow and steady, casting the lake in silver.Sheshivered, though the night was warm, then slid off the hood and drove home before she could change her mind.
Later,she sat on her porch, wrapped in a silk shawl that had belonged to her mother, holding a mug of tea she hadn’t touched.Thesteam had long since faded, but the weight of the ceramic felt like something to cling to.Theporch light glowed soft around her, moths batting themselves senseless against it, while the crickets carried on below.
Her thoughts wouldn’t settle.Theycircled like crows, loud and insistent, landing and taking flight again.
So, when headlights flared at the end of her driveway, she wasn’t surprised.
Of course.Becausethis day couldn’t end without one more ghost showing up.
Acen’s truck rolled to a slow stop.Theengine idled a moment before going quiet, and the night seemed to lean in.Hedidn’t move right away, and neither did she.Theysat suspended in that charged silence, as if both of them were waiting for the other to blink first.
Finally, he climbed out and walked toward the porch, his boots crunching over gravel.Hestopped at the steps, not daring further without permission.Theporch light caught the lines on his face, the wear of years she hadn’t seen, but the shadow in his eyes was the same.
“She came to practice,”Rosesaid before he could speak.“Briana.”
“I know.”Hisvoice was low.“Isaw her.”
