I don’t go to the freezer.I don’t remember what I said I came for.I stand there until the girls get bored and the boys get restless, until somebody shouts that the lake isn’t going to admire itself, and then I move because moving is easier than sitting with the way my skin doesn’t fit.
On the way to my SUV, I glance back, just once, and catch her crossing the yard toward one of the back fields with my dad.She’s listening to him the way people listen when they respect the work in a man’s hands.She laughs at something he says, small, honest.It slides into a part of me that’s been locked since winter and hits every wall on the way down.
I climb in.The engine turns over, and the speaker grabs a song mid-chorus, some summer anthem that insists fun is a verb.My rearview is full of movement, sunglasses and teeth and pink lipstick, a hand lifted high to catch the light, a guy flexing like he’s about to fistfight the sun.
I pull away from the only place that’s ever told me the truth without using a single word.
Dust rises.The lane narrows back into trees.The convoy wakes up behind me, a beast with too many heads.
“Tell Mom and Dad,” I text Kenzie before I back out onto the road.“I want you there.”
I toss the phone into the cup holder like it burned me and stare at my hands on the wheel.They look like mine.They don’t feel like they belong to the man who used to cut across a frozen pond at dusk and measure happiness in how long it took the cold to leave his bones.
I gun it anyway.Head toward the lake.Toward the dock that will be full of people who don’t know me and therefore can’t be disappointed when I fail to show up as anything other than what I’ve sold.
I tell myself I don’t care that she won’t be there.
ThatTessawon’t be anywhere near the mess I’ve curated.
That she’s not for me and that’s fine because I’m not for her either.
The lie sits heavy on my tongue.I swallow it like a pill I didn’t ask for.It catches on the way down and stays there, a sharp little truth I can’t spit out.
Somewhere between the farm and the lake, I let the mask take its place.
Soon, the sky will split open and cheer for itself.And I’ll be the loudest one on the dock, laughing too big, pouring drinks for people who can’t taste anything but their own ego.
If I’m lucky, the noise will be enough to drown out the only thing I don’t want to hear, the sound of my sister asking when I became this.And the sight of a woman I don’t even know who seems to have earned what I desperately want right now, my family's respect, attention and support.But I won't tell anyone that.Instead, I turn up the music and shoot a grin to the girl in the passenger seat.
Chapter 8 - Nate
The lake house hums before I even step outside.
Bass thrums through the deck boards, glasses clink, voices rise and blend into the kind of summer noise that feels alive and hollow at the same time.
It’s a good crowd.A mix of teammates, wives, girlfriends, and whatever groupies or influencers attached themselves to the convoy on the way up.The kind of people who don’t ask whose place it is, just how many bedrooms it has and if the bars open.
Music pours from the outdoor speakers, country pop, something with just enough twang to make it sound authentic.The lake catches the reflection of the sun, bright orange and gold rippling over glassy water.
The place looks exactly the way it did when I bought it: black siding, floor-to-ceiling windows, the deck cascading into stairs that meet the dock like a runway.A manicured lawn that spreads around the property, with curated bushes and trees.It’s a house that doesn’t creak, doesn’t smell like earth or smoke, a house that looks perfect in photos, but feels empty inside.
I haven’t had a drink yet.Not because I don’t want one, but because I know what happens when I do.I’ve been skating on a short leash since the playoffs, and one wrong move could be my ticket out of Summit City.
“Cap!You got any more steaks?”Reeves calls from the grill, smoke curling up into the sky.His little girl, Olivia, is twirling nearby, her tiny white dress with sequin maple leaves, catching the light as she spins.
“Fridge in the garage!”I shout back."I'll grab them and the burgers."
Olivia squeals, chasing the reflection of the sequins on the ground.
And somehow, that small, innocent joy feels like more than the noise around me.
The house is full, laughter spilling down the stairs, perfume and cologne colliding in the air.
Everything’s bright, polished, and curated.
I probably couldn't tell you half their names.
And all I can think is:this isn’t me.
