Page 146 of What Goes Around

Over the years, we had never fully disappeared from each other’s lives. We texted. Birthday messages. Occasional check-ins. We saw each other at group events, holidays, always with other people around.

I knew he hadn’t had a serious girlfriend in years. I had noticed. I just pretended I hadn’t.

The last two weeks had changed things. Rehearsals. Dinners. Wedding events. Too much proximity. Too many moments.

“You’re tense,” he murmured.

“I’m always tense,” I said quietly.

He smiled. “Fair.”

When the song ended, the feeling in my chest was too full, too sharp. I pulled my hand back gently.

“Thank you. I’m going to step outside for a bit.”

Beyond the lights, the Reynolds’ yard softened into shadows. Gravel paths, trimmed hedges, the hum of conversation fading behind me. I walked slowly, breathing in the cool night.

Footsteps followed.

“Hey,” Nick said gently. “You okay?”

“I’m fine,” I replied, even though it wasn’t true.

We stood side by side, looking back at the glow of the tents, laughter drifting toward us.

Then he spoke again, quieter. “This is going to sound strange.”

I turned to him.

“I’ve been having dreams,” he said. “For years now. About us.”

My breath caught.

“In them, we’re together,” he continued, rubbing the back of his neck. “Not casually. Really together. Happy. Like it’s right. Like that’s how things are supposed to be.”

A chill moved through me.

“When I wake up,” he said, “there’s this feeling that something’s missing. Like I woke up into the wrong version of my life.”

I didn’t move. Didn’t speak. My thoughts spiraled too fast to catch.

Was this an echo? A fracture? Something bleeding through from a life only I was supposed to remember?

“I know it doesn’t make sense,” he added quickly. “I can’t explain it.”

He looked at me then, fully. Open. Vulnerable in a way that stripped the air from my lungs.

“I like you, Ashley,” he said quietly. “More than a friend. I have for a long time. I didn’t want to push. But I can’t keep pretending it’s nothing.”

The garden felt suddenly too small.

I took a slow breath.

“Nick… I care about you,” I said quietly. “I really do. But I can’t give you what you’re asking for. Not now.”

Something flickered in his eyes. Hurt. Confusion.

“Did I do something wrong?”