“Are you sure you’re good?”
“Get out of here, you two don’t need to fuss over me. I’ll go dig out some flashlights before it gets dark. Who knows how long the power will be out.”
We walkhand in hand through the park and toward town, the air still heavy with chaotic energy. The damage is scattered but not devastating—trees split down the middle, branches and leaves littering the ground. The sound of chainsaws echoes around the neighborhood, people attempting to clean up. But honestly, nothing is as bad as I expected. No houses flattened. No sirens. Just a hefty mess.
By the time we make it back, the sun is dipping low behind the trees, painting the sky in soft streaks of orange and purple. Inside, Nan is perched at the kitchen counter, a candle flickering beside her, throwing long shadows across the room. She has a flashlight clutched in one hand and a Budweiser in the other.
“Hey, kids, glad you’re back,” she says, squinting at us. “Next time the sky starts trying to murder us, somebody remind me to start drinking before the power goes out.”
“You got it,” Collins says.
The powernever did come back on.
Campbell and Crandall show up not long after our walk, both of them still buzzing with adrenaline in the aftermath. They make themselves beds in the living room. One claiming the couch, the other spreading blankets on the floor. Nan sinks into her recliner with a dramatic sigh, lifting her beer in a toast to surviving the end of the world.
Collins disappears down the hall and comes back dragging my mattress and bedding behind him, dropping it right in the middle of the living room. We snuggle under the blankets while he aims a flashlight at the ceiling, twisting his hands into ridiculous animal shadows. A rabbit turned into a dinosaur, which somehow became a cowboy riding a horse. Every character has its own over-the-top voice and dramatic backstory.
“And that,” he declares in a gravelly narrator voice, “is how Sergeant Opossum saved the entire forest from the outlaw raccoon gang.”
The room erupts in laughter.
Pretty soon, Nan’s soft snoring fills the room, and the twins settle into sleepy silence. The candle flickers low, sending shadows dancing peacefully around the room, and it’s almost like the storm never happened.
I tuck my head against Collins’ chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat while his hand traces slow trails along my back.
Sleep creeps in quietly.
This summer has been nothing like I expected.
Thank god.
CHAPTER 31
johnnie
NOW
I’m cryingin the shower, with no intention of leaving this water until it runs cold. The mention of my pregnancy did something to me, and it’s not good. The whiplash of emotions lately is nauseating, a pendulum constantly swinging between the highest highs and lowest lows. I sit down in the bottom of the tub, bringing my knees to my chest and resting my head there. Tears mingle with the spray of the shower head and wash down the drain while I continue to fall apart. Just as I comb my fingers through my hair, removing drenched strands that cling to my temples and cheeks, I hear the bathroom door creak open.
Footsteps, then curtain hooks sliding along the metal rod, followed by warmth at my back.
Collins.
He sits behind me, fully clothed, boots still on his feet. Arms wrap around me and lips press to the top of my head.
It certainly doesn’t take the hurt away, but my god does this man smooth out every single jagged edge of pain I house within me. He always has.
I’m not sure how long we remain this way, but the water starts to cool and my tears are attempting to dry up when I feel Collins reach up and grab the towel from where it hangs above us. He holds it out of the water while leaning around me to turn the handle, shutting off the water. He wraps me in the towel and rubs his hands up and down my arms. Neither one of us has uttered a word, and yet so much has been said.
Collins packsa bag for me while I pull on clean clothes and stand in the bathroom blow-drying my hair, the warm rush of air doing little to quiet the turbulence coursing through me. He tells me we’re going to his house, and I don’t argue. The truth is, there’s nowhere else I would rather be.
In the truck, I roll the window down just enough for the crisp fall air to slip inside. It brushes across my cheeks and tangles through the loose strands of my hair, a cool reminder that I’m still here, still breathing.
I close my eyes for a moment, letting the air fill my lungs. How is it possible to feel so many things at once? On one hand, I’ve never been happier than I am sitting beside the man I love, feeling the quiet certainty of him. On the other, grief presses against my ribs—layer upon layer of it—along with secrets, exhaustion, and the aching weight of everything I’ve been carrying alone.
The low, familiar voice of Dierks Bentley drifts through the speakers, filling the cab with words that never fail to sooth mysoul. Collins reaches over and rests his hand on my knee. It’s a small gesture, one he’s done so many times before, but right now it steadies me in a way nothing else can. His thumb moves in slow circles against my leg, absentminded and comforting. He’s always been this way with me—patient, gentle, steady. And that’s exactly why the truth feels so heavy. Because he deserves honesty, and I’m terrified of what it might cost me.
I tell myself I’ll start with the easier part, an explanation for what he saw five years ago. Easier is a relative word, though. It might not wound him the way the rest of my story could, but that doesn’t make it simple. Nothing about the past decade of my life has been simple.
