“But I didn’t die. Tommy didn’t die. So technically we’re fine.” Even I can hear how hollow that sounds.
Jake drops onto the couch beside me. “We’re going to the lake this afternoon, all of us. You need to get out of your head for a few hours, and you can’t refuse to go.”
“I need to figure out what I’m doing about work. About bills. About my entire life that just burned down.”
“The bills can wait one afternoon.” Cole’s voice carries that lieutenant authority that makes you want to both argue and obey at the same time. “You’ve been through trauma. Take a few hours to breathe.”
“What about Tommy?”
“Sophie’s picking him up from school and keeping him until dinner,” Jake says. “You get an afternoon off from being Mom.”
I look at all three of them. Jake is wearing his protective, big-brother expression. Theo with those hopeful puppy eyes. Cole radiates that steady, unshakable presence that makes me believe everything will actually be okay.
“Fine. But if Marco shows up with more questions, I’m holding all of you responsible.”
“He’s actually coming with us,” Jake says.
“Then I’m drowning him in the lake.”
“That’s fair.”
By three o’clock, we’re loaded into two vehicles heading toward Millbrook Lake. The swimming spot sits on the north shore, away from the marina and tourist crowds. Locals only, the way it’s been for decades.
The afternoon sun beats down as we park near the tree line. I grab my bag from the trunk—swimsuit, towel, sunscreen, and a growing sense that this is either the best or worst idea anyone’s had today.
The changing shed sits about fifty feet from the water’s edge. Old, weathered wood, peeling paint, smells like mildew, and decades of summers. But it’s private, and right now that’s all I care about.
I duck inside and start stripping off my clothes. T-shirt first, then jeans. The shed door hasn’t locked properly in years, but everyone knows the rule around here. You knock before entering.
Apparently, Cole missed that memo.
The door swings open, and he walks in, already shirtless with swim trunks riding low on his hips, and we both freeze.
His eyes drop to my bra before snapping back up to my face. “Sorry. I didn’t think anyone was—”
“It’s fine.” My voice comes out steadier than I feel. “I’m almost done anyway.”
He should leave. Should turn around and give me privacy.
He doesn’t move.
The air between us shifts, gets thicker, heavier than the summer heat outside. I can hear my own heartbeat in my ears, can feel every inch of space between us like it’s a physical thing.
“I can go,” he says quietly.
“Or you could stay.” The words escape before I can stop them. “Help me with the sunscreen. I can’t reach my back.”
I watch his throat work as he swallows hard. “Rachel—”
“Just my back. Unless you want me to burn.” I turn around, presenting my bare shoulders, trying to keep my breathing steady.
His footsteps are quiet on the wooden floor. Then his hands are on me, warm and slightly rough, spreading sunscreen across myshoulders with slow, deliberate movements that have nothing to do with sun protection and everything to do with the fact that we’re alone in here and he’s touching me.
His thumb traces over the small snake tattoo on my left shoulder blade. The one I got when I turned twenty-one. The one Derek always said made me look cheap.
“I like this,” Cole murmurs, his voice low enough that I feel it more than hear it.
“Yeah?”
