PROLOGUE
They call usThe Odd Ones.It started out as a joke—a nickname for a group of girls too bold, too weird, too loud, too smart, too everything. Some of us were closer than others, some were bound by secrets, shared history, or scars that never faded. Butonce a year, we came together. No matter where life had dragged us, no matter how tangled things became, we carved out one weekend to remember who we were before life began to stretch us thin.
This wasn'tthatweekend.
Only seven of us made it to July's daughter's engagement party. A warm spring evening, the air sticky with laughter and white wine. The kind of gathering where dresses flow, corks pop, and everything feels just light enough to forget how heavy life can get.
I came with Ellis, my boyfriend of a year and a half. Nearly two now. He's a firefighter, one of the good ones. He was brave, magnetic, and handsome.
And me?
I'm a forest ranger.
My job isn't exactly quiet. It's dangerous, exhausting, and brutally physical—the kind of work that gets under your skin and makes you crave stillness when you're off the clock. I've pulled people from snowdrifts, fought wildfires with blistered hands, tracked predators under moonlight. It doesn't leave much room for softness.
Ellis gets it. He lives the same chaos—different department, same smoke in the lungs, same adrenaline rush. We're built from the same fire-hardened parts. We've always made it work, even with the long shifts, the canceled plans, the time apart. He's understanding. Thoughtful. He leaves notes in my boots and texts me playlists to get me through storm season.
And I love him, and I thought he loved me too.
The sex, though... That's never been easy. Not because of him. Because of me. I'm self-conscious. Always have been. There's this weight in my chest, a tight coil of fear that won't unravel when it's just skin and breath. I can't fully let go. Not even with him. I guess I've always been scared of what someone might think if they saw everything—the fantasies, the silence, the parts of me I don't know how to name.
People used to assume I was a lesbian. It never offended me, but the assumption clung to me anyway, the way those things tend to. Maybe it was the way I carried myself. The job. The boots. The fact that I rarely bothered with makeup. I’d had boyfriends before. More than a few. But no one had ever really looked at me and seen me completely.
And tonight, at this engagement party, I had the unsettling feeling that someone finally would.
Careful what you wish for.
Everyone was drinking and laughing. July had forgotten the baby monitor upstairs after babysitting earlier, and somewhere between the music and the conversation, it crackled to life. Ellis was in the guest room with a few of the guys, drinking and talking too loudly, completely unaware his voice was now carrying through the entire house. The room fell silent almost instantly as his words rang out for everyone to hear.
"No, but seriously—April's the real deal,"Ellis was saying, laughter in his voice, that familiar ease when he'd had just enough to drink to get sentimental."She's got this... presence, you know? Like she walks into a room and you feel safer. I swear to God, I've never met anyone like her."
A chorus of low whistles and teasing cheers followed.
"Nah, I'm not even playing. She's strong. Compassionate. Doesn't take shit from anyone. She shows up for people. Like really shows up. She's solid. Like—you just know she's gonna be there when the storm hits. April's the kind of woman you build a life with."
I smiled.
I felt everyone's eyes shifting to me, wide grins, elbows nudging, Marchy already halfway into a toast. My cheeks flushed. I looked down at my drink, giddy and glowing.
And then...His voice shifted. A pause. A drunk, careless laugh.
"I mean, yeah... if you ignore the sex."
The room went still.
"Like, not to be an asshole or anything but it's bad. The worst, actually. Sometimes I gotta close my eyes and imagine someone else under me. Like some soft little brunette, petite, fragile, makes you forget your name when she moans..."
Someone gasped. Someone dropped their glass.
I felt the heat drain from my face, like I'd been slapped. Laughter had died. The room was silent now, thick and heavy, except for the soft static crackling from the baby monitor still sitting on the counter like some cursed relic.The words just... hung there. Still echoing.
The worst.
Imagine someone else.
Petite. Fragile.
Not me.
