Lost & Found (Part 2)

Part 2 to the Lost & Found book.

Chapter 11
"Today's The Day - Michael"

The campus was buzzing—caps and gowns everywhere, families weaving in and out of the crowds with balloons, flowers, and cameras flashing nonstop. I tugged at the collar of my gown, trying to make it sit right, and felt Elise’s fingers brush mine.

“You look good,” she teased, her smile radiant in the May sunshine.

I grinned, leaning in to kiss her temple. “Not as good as you do.”

She rolled her eyes but squeezed my hand tighter.

We’d made it—together. Late nights studying, coffee runs, lazy Sundays in her apartment, the weight of finals, the stress, the laughter. Four years had bled into each other, and through it all Elise had been my anchor. She wasn’t just safe anymore. She was home.

Elise

The sunlight hit the bleachers in a way that made everything shimmer—caps and gowns and proud families blurred together in a kaleidoscope of color. My name had already been called, my diploma tucked neatly into its folder.

Everyone around me was buzzing, high on the energy of endings and beginnings. I should’ve been too. This was supposed to be one of the biggest days of my life.

But all I could think about was another ending—one that felt just as final, just as life-changing.

Pine Hollow.

Ten years of summers gone in a blink. I could still smell the campfire smoke in my hair, hear the crunch of gravel paths under my sneakers, see the lake glittering like it was keeping all our secrets.

And James. Always James.

Graduation wasn’t the first time I’d felt the ground shift beneath me. I’d felt it that summer, too—the last summer.

Pine Hollow wasn’t just a camp. It was practically the backdrop of my entire childhood. I’d been coming since I was eight—long enough for the cabins to feel like second homes, for the dock planks to feel worn under my bare feet. Ten summers. Ten goodbyes. But this one was different. This one was final.

I remembered the fire songs, the messy braids my counselors used to do in my hair, the way the whole place smelled like sunscreen and lake water. I’d grown up there. My world had gotten bigger, but Pine Hollow always pulled me back—familiar, steady, unchanging.

Now it was ending.

That last night, I sat on the dock trying to memorize everything. The crickets. The faint ripples on the lake. The lanterns glowing in the distance.

James came quietly, hands shoved in his hoodie pockets, sneakers squeaking against the planks. By then we weren’t strangers anymore. We’d circled each other for years—small conversations, glances, maybe even crushes we never admitted. He sat beside me without asking, like he knew I wouldn’t mind.

“You’re really gonna miss this place, huh?” he asked.

I nodded. “It’s been half my life. More than half. I don’t even know who I am without it.”

Without thinking, I leaned my head against his shoulder. He stilled, then let out the smallest breath, like he hadn’t realized he’d been holding it. We sat in silence, cicadas buzzing, the lake stretching silver before us.

Then a counselor’s voice rang out across the water, calling for the Final Send-Off. The moment cracked like thin ice. I lifted my head, reluctant, and James gave me a faint smile.

We stood, but before leaving, I pulled him into a hug. It wasn’t long, but it was tight—the kind of hug you give when you don’t know if you’ll ever get another.

The last fire, the last songs, the last goodbyes followed. Everyone else cried for the end of childhood, for leaving camp behind. I cried too. But not just for Pine Hollow. For James. For the quiet boy with the awkward smile who had been there in the background of every summer—until suddenly, he wasn’t.

Back in the present, the lawn buzzed with cheers and caps flying. It felt surreal, standing there in my gown, diploma clutched tight, knowing four years had vanished.

“Hey!” Claire’s voice cut through the noise. She wove toward us, smiling bright. My stomach tightened. We hadn’t really talked in so long. Seeing her felt like seeing a version of her I half-recognized, half-didn’t.

She reached us, her smile just a little too practiced. “We made it, guys,” she said, eyes flicking between me and Michael.

“Yeah,” I said, hugging myself. “We really did.”

For a beat, none of us spoke. The air felt heavier than it should have on a day like this.

Finally, Claire looked at me. “I miss you, Elise. I don’t even know why we stopped talking.”

Something cracked in my chest. I’d been asking myself the same thing.

“I miss you too,” I said softly. “I guess we just got busy. Let’s not let it stay that way, okay?”

Her smile softened, and for a second the distance between us didn’t feel so wide. We hugged—awkward at first, then tighter, like muscle memory pulling us back into place.

Michael clapped his hands once. “Look at us. Grown-ups now.”

Claire laughed. I did too. For the first time in a long time, it didn’t feel forced. It wasn’t perfect—it wouldn’t be—but maybe this was the start of stitching things back together.

Michael

Later that night, the campus was alive with graduation parties.

The bass thumped low through a crowded living room, red cups in hand, laughter spilling louder than the music. Fairy lights glowed weakly overhead as I sank deeper into the couch. Warmth from the drinks loosened my tongue, just shy of drunk.

Across the room, Elise laughed with friends, her eyes bright. My chest swelled. She deserved this—deserved everything.

A shift beside me, and Claire slid onto the couch, her vanilla perfume cutting through the haze. She smirked. “Well, well. Someone’s had a few.”

I chuckled. “Just a few. Big night. We made it.”

She tilted her cup toward mine. “That we did.”

The words slipped out before I thought. “I love her, Claire.” My head turned toward her, heavy but sincere. “God, I really love her. We made it through everything. She’s it for me.”

Her expression softened, but something flickered in her eyes. She tucked her legs under herself, leaning closer. “I believe you,” she said quietly.

I ran a hand down my face, suddenly spilling more. “I think—I think I want to propose. Maybe this year. I don’t know how. You’re her best friend. How should I ask her?”

Claire blinked, caught off guard. Then she laughed softly. “Michael, you’re really asking me for proposal advice?”

“Who else would I ask? You know her better than anyone. I want it to be perfect.”

Her gaze lingered, unreadable, before she sighed. “Fine. Elise doesn’t want big gestures. She’d hate a crowd. Do it somewhere personal. Quiet. Just you and her.”

Her voice was steady, but her eyes gave her away.

She swirled her drink, then added, “But Michael… what’s your goal? Marriage? A house? Kids? You’re only twenty-five. You don’t have to rush if you’re not sure.”

Her words cut deeper than she meant them to. I looked back across the room at Elise, laughing, glowing. Certain. Certain of me, of us, of a future.

And for one second, I imagined losing that. Watching her walk away. Letting someone else step into the picture. The ache in my chest was sharp and undeniable.

I muttered to myself, “She’s the kind of girl you build a life with.”

Claire’s expression flickered, but she forced a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Safe bet, huh?”

I didn’t answer. Maybe that was the truth. Elise was safe. Solid. The right choice. Even if part of me still twisted in Claire’s orbit, Elise was the one I could picture standing beside me ten years from now.

And maybe that was enough.

Chapter 12
"Fall at Pine Hollow? - Elise"

The rest of the summer blurred together, a mix of late nights, barbecues with friends, and long stretches of heat that seemed to hang heavy in the air. Shortly after graduation, I moved back home to Dellwood with my parents. That meant less time with Michael.

He tried—showing up on weekends, FaceTiming on the nights we couldn’t see each other, sending the little texts that still made my heart flip. We were learning how to stretch the thread between us across distance, tugging it when we needed reassurance.

One night in late July, I sat on my bed scrolling through my phone, thumb hovering over an old photo I’d saved from camp. Pine Hollow. Just seeing the cabins and the lake in the background made something in my chest ache. I missed it—the songs, the traditions, the way time slowed down like summer was endless. It wasn’t a camp anymore, not in the same way. Now it was just a campground. But still, it was my place.

So I texted Michael:

What if we went to Pine Hollow for a few weeks? Just us.

When he called a minute later, his voice was warm and eager.

“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s do it.”

He agreed so quickly, it surprised me. At the time, I thought he was just being sweet, wanting to share that piece of my life. I didn’t realize he’d already decided this trip would be the trip. The one where everything changed.

The second I clicked reserve on the Pine Hollow campground site, my stomach fluttered like I was sixteen again, waiting for the first day of camp. Only this time, I wasn’t packing bug spray and string lights for my cabin bunk. This time, I was bringing Michael.

That thought both thrilled me and made me nervous. Pine Hollow wasn’t just a place—it was my place. Every corner of that camp carried a memory. The dock where I learned to swim. The arts-and-crafts hall where I wrote my first clumsy song. The bench by the lake where James and I once—

I stopped myself before I went too far down that trail of thought. James was part of that chapter. I hadn’t seen him in years, and maybe I never would again. Still, a small part of me wondered: what if? What if he happened to be there? What would I say? What would I feel?

Michael wouldn’t understand that—not fully. So I didn’t tell him about James. Instead, I told him about the way the lake looked at sunset, how the water shimmered like glass. I told him about the little wooden footbridge that creaked under your weight, about the campfire songs that still echoed in my head. Every time we FaceTimed, I’d get carried away, rambling.

“We’ll walk by the lake,” I said one night, twirling the bracelet James had given me between my fingers. “It’s so peaceful there, you’ll love it. And there’s this old oak tree near the cabins—God, I carved my name into it when I was, like, ten. I want to show you.”

Michael smiled through the grainy camera. “I can’t wait,” he said, steady and sure.

A couple of weeks stretched out like that—me piling little pieces of my past into his hands, him nodding and listening like he was ready to carry them. I bought new sunscreen, dug my old hiking boots out of the closet, started a stack of things to pack. Every item felt like a step closer to going back—to showing Michael not just Pine Hollow, but the version of me that grew up there.

And under all of it—the lists, the FaceTimes, the excitement—there was that quiet, pulsing thought: I was finally going back. But would it feel the same?


Chapter 13
"Home Sweet Home - Michael"

The crisp bite of autumn clung to the air as Elise and I pulled into the old campgrounds, the trees lining the gravel drive painted in fiery reds and golds. I’d seen pictures, heard stories, but being here with her—the place that shaped her childhood—made everything feel different, bigger somehow.

Elise’s face lit up as soon as she spotted the familiar cabins and the lake shimmering in the distance. “Oh my God, it hasn’t changed a bit,” she said, almost bouncing on her toes as we unpacked the car.

Her joy warmed me more than the October sun ever could. This place was hers, a piece of her heart she was finally letting me into. And I knew, with absolute certainty, this was where I wanted to ask her the question I’d been carrying in my chest for months.

I’d been quietly carrying the ring in my pocket since we arrived, waiting for the right moment. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew Elise deserved more than just right. She deserved perfect. And perfect meant her lake, her music, her memories.

So while she napped in our cabin that afternoon, I slipped out and headed toward the camp’s office. I wasn’t sure what I’d ask for exactly—candles, maybe lanterns by the dock, something to make it special.

The bell above the door chimed as I stepped inside. Behind the counter, a man looked up from a clipboard. Broad shoulders, a little older than me, with eyes that seemed to size me up instantly.

“Hey,” I said, nervous but determined. “I was hoping to ask for some help. I’m planning to propose to my girlfriend tonight, and this place… it’s special to her. I was wondering if we could set something up down by the lake. Lights, maybe? Something simple but… romantic.”

The man set the clipboard down slowly, studying me. Then he smiled faintly, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “You must be talking about Elise.”

I froze. “Yeah… Elise. You know her?”

He nodded once, his gaze drifting like he was looking back through time. “I do. I’m James. We… we were kids here together. She used to play guitar by the lake. Everyone remembers her. I saw her name on the reservation list.”

Something stirred uneasily in my chest, but I forced a smile. “Then you know why I want it there. It means everything to her.”

James regarded me silently for a beat, his jaw tightening like he was biting back words. Finally, he said, “I can help you set it up. Lanterns, flowers, the works. She deserves it.”

“Thank you,” I said, relieved.

But as he scribbled down a list of supplies and called over one of the staffers to help, his eyes lingered on me—measured, weighted, almost like he was testing me without saying it outright.

I couldn’t shake the feeling that James knew more than he was letting on.

When I returned, Elise was awake, tying her hair back, barefoot and glowing from her nap.

“You disappeared,” she teased. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” I smiled, pushing the unease down. “Just… wanted to walk the camp a little. It’s beautiful here.”

Her grin lit up her whole face. “This place never changes. That’s why I love it.”

Elise

After Michael came back from “grabbing firewood” or whatever excuse he’d made, we decided to walk the main trail before dinner. The air smelled like pine needles and smoke from someone else’s campfire, and the crunch of gravel under our shoes felt like music to me.

“Feels good to stretch my legs,” Michael said, slipping his hand into mine. His palm was warm, familiar.

We passed the arts-and-crafts lodge—shuttered now, paint peeling at the corners—and I couldn’t help smiling. “I made my first friendship bracelet in there,” I told him. “The knotting was so bad it fell apart by the second day, but I thought it was a masterpiece.”

Michael grinned. “Bet you’ve gotten better since then.”

“Maybe a little,” I teased.

We wandered until the sky turned orange and pink, then circled back for dinner at the little café by the lake. The food wasn’t anything special—greasy burgers and fries that tasted like they’d been sitting under a heat lamp—but sitting across from Michael, watching him make faces at his too-sweet lemonade, made it feel like a feast.

By the time we made it back to the cabin, the sky was navy and scattered with stars. We curled up on the creaky old bed, side by side, talking about nothing and everything. We talked until I couldn’t keep my eyes open, and soon the soft thumping of his heart lulled me to sleep.

Michael

Later that night, Elise was curled up on the cabin bed, her breathing steady and soft, like the whole world had gone quiet just for her. Moonlight spilled through the window, catching in her hair, and something in my chest ached. This was it—this was the woman I was going to spend my life with.

Careful not to wake her, I slid out of bed and grabbed my phone off the nightstand. My thumb hovered for a long moment, nerves buzzing under my skin. Then I opened the group chat I’d started with Claire and a few of Elise’s closest family members—the ones who already felt like family to me too.

Here goes nothing.

I typed:
Hey guys, I need your help. Tomorrow night, 5pm sharp, Pine Hollow. Down by the lake where Elise used to play guitar. I’m going to propose. Please keep your distance and stay hidden until after—it’s important she doesn’t know you’re there until the moment’s over.

My pulse kicked hard as I re-read it three times before hitting send.

The dots appeared almost immediately. My screen lit up with heart emojis, excited responses, promises to be there. Then, a separate text from Claire:

You sure about this?

I exhaled slowly, lips twitching into a faint smile. For all the history between us, for everything unspoken, I knew my answer without hesitation. I typed back:

I’ve never been more sure of anything. She would love it if you came.

Claire’s dots flickered, then disappeared. Silence.

I set my phone back on the nightstand and eased under the covers again. Elise stirred, just slightly, and I slid my arm carefully around her. She pressed into me instinctively, her warmth soaking through me.

I kissed the top of her head, whispered so quietly only I could hear, I love you.

And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, I believed myself.

Chapter 14
"Will You Marry Me? - Elise"

The mess hall smelled just like it had when I was a kid—syrup, coffee, and that faint trace of pine that clung to everyone’s clothes after a night outside. I balanced my tray with a stack of pancakes and slid into a corner table with Michael.
Halfway through my first bite, a voice caught my ear.
“Elise?”
I looked up, blinking. For a second I didn’t place him—broad-shouldered, older now, but familiar in a way that tugged at something far back in my memory. Then it clicked. James Carver.
The mess hall smelled like coffee and syrup, the familiar camp mix that made me feel fifteen again in an instant. Michael was already in line, distracted with his phone, so I let my eyes wander over the crowd of campers and families. That’s when I saw him.
At first, I didn’t place the face. Broader shoulders now, taller, his dark hair a little longer than I remembered. The glasses were gone, the braces too, but the curve of his mouth, the way his eyes scanned the room like he was always half somewhere else—that was James.
It hit me all at once. James.
“Oh my gosh,” I blurted, my voice catching before I could stop it. “James?”
He turned, and when his gaze landed on me, it was like the air shifted—like no time at all had passed and yet everything had changed. His lips parted, a flicker of recognition lighting in his eyes before a slow smile pulled at his mouth.
“Elise,” he said, and just my name in his voice made my stomach twist in a way I couldn’t explain.
I laughed, a little too loud, a little too flustered. “I can’t believe this. I haven’t seen you in—what—six years?”
“Six,” he echoed, nodding. “You look… different.” His eyes swept over me quickly, not in a way that felt wrong, but careful, like he was cataloging every change. “Good different.”
Heat rushed up my neck, and I ducked my head with a grin. “Well, you don’t exactly look like the kid with goggles and an inhaler anymore.”
He chuckled, and for a second it was just us, the same ease, the same spark that had always been there. A whole world existed in the space between his smile and mine, one Michael would never notice.
The noise of the mess hall came rushing back when Michael brushed against my arm, balancing a tray. “Ready?” he asked me, his voice pulling me back.
“Yeah,” I said quickly, giving James one last smile. “We’ll catch up later, okay?”
James’s eyes lingered on mine a beat longer than necessary, something unspoken sparking there. “Yeah. Later.”
And just like that, I walked away, but the charge in the air followed me, humming low under my skin.
Later that evening, we were getting ready for dinner. The sun was dipping low, staining the sky in streaks of rose and amber. I smoothed the hem of my dress, checking my reflection in the cabin’s tiny mirror before turning toward Michael. He was fussing with his collar, a nervous little crease between his brows.
“You look handsome,” I teased, stepping close to adjust the fold of fabric myself.
He smiled, but there was something tight about it, like his thoughts were far away. Then he cleared his throat. “Hey, um—before dinner, what do you think about taking a walk down by the lake? Weather’s perfect.”
I brightened immediately, my heart leaping at the idea. “Yes! Oh my gosh, I haven’t been down there in years at this time of day. The sunsets used to look like they’d set the whole water on fire.”
His shoulders relaxed, just a little, and he offered me his hand. “Then let’s go.”
I slipped my fingers through his, warmth buzzing at the simple gesture. We left the cabin and followed the winding path, the crisp fall air carrying the faint scent of pine and woodsmoke. The leaves crunched softly beneath our feet, and I couldn’t help but chatter about old camp memories—sneaking out with friends, songs by the fire, daring each other to swim in the freezing lake.
Michael mostly listened, squeezing my hand every now and then, his silence not unusual but somehow charged. I was too wrapped up in nostalgia to notice the weight behind it.
When the trees finally broke, the lake stretched before us like glass, mirroring the bleeding sunset. My breath caught. “It’s exactly how I remembered it,” I whispered.
Michael stopped a few paces behind me, letting me soak in the view. My eyes sparkled as I turned back to him, completely unaware of what was about to happen.
“Thank you for bringing me out here,” I said softly. “This… this feels like coming home.”
As we walked closer to the water’s edge, something caught my eye—twinkling lights strung low across the trees, flickering gently against the growing dusk. A small table had been set up near the dock, draped in soft linen, a lantern glowing in its center. The path toward it was scattered with petals, leading right to the shoreline.
I stopped short, blinking. “Oh my gosh,” I breathed, a laugh slipping out. “Are we about to crash somebody else’s romantic evening? Because if we are, I feel like the world’s worst camper.”
Michael’s hand tightened in mine. “No,” he said quietly, his voice steady but thick with something I couldn’t quite name.
I turned toward him, my brow furrowing just as he gave a small tug, guiding me down the petal-strewn path. My stomach fluttered. “Wait…” I whispered, glancing between him and the setup, my laughter fading into wide-eyed confusion.
The closer we got, the more everything sharpened—the flowers, the flickering candles tucked into jars, the faint sound of music drifting from a hidden speaker. And with every step, my pulse picked up, my mind tumbling over itself in disbelief.
I finally stopped at the edge of the dock, staring at the scene laid out before us. “Michael…” My voice was soft, trembling. “What… what is this?”
He stepped around me, turning so he faced me fully, the glow of lantern light catching in his eyes. For a moment, he just looked at me—like I was the only person in the world. Then, slowly, he sank down onto one knee.
My hand flew to my mouth, a sharp gasp tearing from my throat as tears pricked hot at the corners of my eyes.
“Elise,” he said, his voice thick but unwavering, “from the moment we met, you’ve been my safe place. You’ve been my best friend, my partner, my favorite person in every way. I can’t imagine a future that doesn’t start and end with you.”
He reached into his pocket, pulled out a small velvet box, and opened it to reveal the ring—simple, timeless, glowing in the lantern light.
“Will you marry me?”
For a heartbeat, I couldn’t breathe. My chest ached with how fast my heart was pounding. Then I nodded furiously, tears slipping free as I stumbled forward into his arms.
“Yes,” I cried, my voice breaking. “Yes, of course, yes.” And just like that, every doubt I’ve ever had, slipped into oblivion.
The sound of cheers erupted in the distance, startling me enough to pull back, laughing through my tears. “Wait—what was that?”
Michael grinned, sheepish but glowing, and pointed behind me. I turned and saw shapes emerging from the shadows—Claire, my family, my closest friends, all clapping and calling out congratulations. My hands flew to my face as another wave of tears rushed forward, overwhelmed by everything at once.
I turned back to Michael, laughing through sobs. “You sneaky, perfect man.”
Elise barely let Michael slip the ring onto her finger before she was swept up in a tidal wave of arms and laughter. Her mom reached her first, pulling her into a crushing hug, tears streaming down both of their faces. Then her dad, her siblings, her cousins—everyone seemed to want their turn to hold her, to marvel at the ring, to tell her how radiant she looked.
Michael stepped back, watching her glow, his chest swelling with pride and relief. But before he could get lost in the sight of her, a quiet voice broke through the noise.
“Congratulations,” Claire said softly.
He turned. She stood just off to the side, hands clasped in front of her, eyes reflecting the lantern light. Her smile was there, but faint, weighed down by something heavier than the moment seemed to allow.
“Thanks,” Michael said, his throat suddenly dry.
They stood like that for a beat, the noise of Elise’s family bubbling around them. Finally, Claire tilted her head slightly, her voice low enough only he could hear.
“You did good,” she said. “This—” she gestured faintly toward the setup, toward Elise still laughing through happy tears, “—this is exactly what she’s always wanted. You know that, right?”
Michael swallowed, nodding. “Yeah. I just… I needed to make sure it was perfect.”
Claire’s smile shifted, softer now, but tinged with something he couldn’t quite name. “She deserves perfect. And you… you gave her that tonight.”
For a second, the weight of their shared past pressed between them, unspoken but undeniably present. Michael shoved his hands in his pockets, his voice quieter. “I know things with us are complicated. I just… I’m grateful you’re still here. For her. For us.”
Claire’s eyes flicked away, toward Elise, then back to him. “You don’t need to thank me. She’s my best friend. Always has been, always will be. And you—” she paused, choosing her words carefully, “—you just better keep proving to her that she made the right choice.”
Michael let out a shaky breath and nodded. “I will.”
Claire gave him a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. Then, with a quick squeeze of his arm, she turned and slipped into the circle of Elise’s family, throwing her arms around her best friend in another fierce hug.
Michael stood where he was, watching them, feeling both the fullness of the moment and the faint sting of what lingered unspoken.
The rest of the evening blurred into laughter, toasts, and the cozy warmth of campfires crackling by the cabins. Elise was radiant, floating from hug to hug, story to story, her ring flashing in the firelight as though it had its own heartbeat. Eventually, as the night wound down, families drifted back toward their cabins.
Claire hugged Elise tightly one last time, her voice muffled in her best friend’s hair. “Sleep, okay? Tomorrow’s going to feel like a dream when you wake up.”
Elise beamed as she waved goodbye to her family, and waved goodnight to Claire as she slipped into the shadows of the path leading to her cabin. Michael’s hand found hers, steadying her as they walked back together.
By the time they settled into their own small cabin, Elise’s energy had finally ebbed. She curled into Michael’s chest, still murmuring little fragments of gratitude. “It was perfect,” she whispered against him. “You’re perfect.” Within minutes, her breathing slowed into sleep.
Michael, though, couldn’t settle. His chest was heavy, not from doubt in Elise—never Elise—but from the way Claire’s words still lingered, sharp in their softness. You better keep proving to her that she made the right choice.
He lay there a long while, staring at the ceiling beams, listening to the rhythm of Elise’s breathing. Finally, the weight became too much. Careful not to wake her, he slipped from bed, pulled on a hoodie, and stepped outside into the cool night.
The camp was quiet, the air sharp with pine and the faint smoke of dying fires. His feet carried him without thought, down the familiar dirt path toward the lake.
And then, just as the water came into view, he froze.
There, on the weathered dock, was a silhouette—legs drawn up, arms wrapped loosely around her knees. Claire.
She must have heard him approach, because she glanced over her shoulder. Lantern light from the mess hall flickered faintly across her face. “Couldn’t sleep either?” she asked, her voice carrying easily over the still water.
Michael’s stomach twisted, caught somewhere between surprise and inevitability. He stepped closer, his breath clouding in the night air. “Guess not.”
Claire patted the empty space beside her on the dock, her expression unreadable. “Come sit.”
Michael eased down onto the dock beside Claire, the wood cool beneath him, the lake mirroring the moon in broken ripples. For a long moment, neither of them spoke.
Finally, Claire let out a quiet laugh, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “I knew you’d end up here. You always carry too much in your head.”
Michael glanced at her, startled. “And you can read all that from one look?”
She shrugged, her eyes fixed on the water. “I know you better than you think. At least, parts of you.”
He exhaled, the truth pressing out before he could stop it. “You got to me tonight. What you said. About proving to Elise she made the right choice.” His hand flexed against his knee. “I just… I don’t know why it hit so hard. Because you’re right. I love her. God, I love her. But then I look at you and…”
Claire turned, meeting his eyes. The faint glow of starlight traced her cheekbones, and for a heartbeat she looked almost fragile. “And what, Michael?” she pressed, her voice low.
His throat worked. “And I remember that passion. That fire. It was different. It is different. And I feel guilty as hell for even thinking about it.”
Her lips curved, not quite a smile, not quite a smirk. “Guilt looks good on you.” She shifted closer, so close he caught the faint trace of her perfume, the warmth of her body against the cool night. “You think you’re the only one replaying those moments?”
Michael’s chest tightened. “Claire…”
But the word dissolved as her hand brushed against his—barely a touch, enough to send a current up his arm. The air thickened, tension hanging between them like the mist on the water.
“Tell me to stop,” she whispered, her eyes searching his. “Tell me this isn’t what you want, and I’ll walk away. Forever.”
Michael swallowed hard, torn between the steady certainty of Elise asleep in their cabin, and the undeniable pull of the woman sitting beside him on the dock. His silence stretched, dangerous, electric.
Claire leaned in, just enough for him to feel her breath against his jaw, her voice a taunt and a plea all at once. “You can’t, can you?”
Michael’s jaw tensed, his eyes locked on Claire’s. The dock creaked beneath them, the night pressing close.
“You know I can’t say that,” he murmured finally, voice rough, almost pained.
Claire tilted her head, studying him with that sharp, unwavering gaze of hers. For a heartbeat she didn’t move, didn’t breathe—then the corner of her mouth twitched, like she’d been waiting for him to admit it.
Michael leaned forward slightly, searching her face. “But if you’ve carried this all these years—if it’s still this strong—why didn’t you say something back then? Why now, when everything is so tangled?”
Her eyes softened, just barely, and she looked out at the lake instead of him. “Because she was my best friend, Michael. She is my best friend. And I thought…” She drew in a sharp breath, her voice dipping quieter. “I thought that giving you up meant she could have you. That if I stepped aside, you two could build something real. And you did.”
She turned back toward him, her face illuminated by moonlight, and this time there was no smirk, no bitterness—just raw honesty. “But I underestimated myself. I underestimated how much I felt. How much I still feel. And it’s killing me to sit across from you and pretend like I don’t.”
The words hung between them, heavier than the night air. Michael’s pulse thundered in his ears as she inched just a little closer, her confession leaving no space to hide.
Michael dragged a hand over his face, staring at the water instead of her. Every muscle in his body felt strung tight. “Claire…” His voice cracked under the weight of her name. “You can’t just say things like that. Not now. Not when everything’s finally—” He stopped, unable to finish the sentence.
She leaned in just a fraction, her shoulder brushing his. It was such a small touch, but it set off an ache he didn’t want to admit to.
“I had to,” she whispered. “I’ve been carrying it for too long. And if I didn’t… you’d never know.”
Silence pressed in, the only sound the soft lap of the lake against the dock. Michael could feel her watching him, could feel the pull he’d fought for years. His chest rose and fell with sharp, uneven breaths.
When he finally looked at her again, her face was close—too close. The distance between them was a fragile thread. His eyes flicked down to her lips before he could stop himself.
“Claire…” he tried again, but this time her name sounded like surrender.
Her hand slid over his, tentative but certain, her fingers curling into his. She didn’t pull him closer—she didn’t have to. The air between them felt alive, charged, every second dragging out like it was daring him to cross the line.
And then, without thinking, without planning, he did. Michael leaned in, closing the distance, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that was meant to be quick, meant to be controlled—except it wasn’t. The moment their lips met, the tension snapped, giving way to heat, to something raw and consuming.
The kiss broke as quickly as it began, but the aftershock lingered—Michael’s heart hammering, Claire’s breath warm against his lips. He pulled back just enough to see her face, searching her eyes for restraint, for regret, for anything that could ground him.
Instead, she looked wrecked in a way that was devastatingly honest. “I can’t help but feel,” she said softly, her voice trembling, “that if I had told you how I felt sooner… it would be me you were marrying. Not her.”
Michael shut his eyes for a moment, the weight of her words crushing against the guilt already gnawing at him. He wanted to argue, to deny it, but the worst part was that a part of him wasn’t sure.
The silence after her confession was unbearable. He opened his mouth to speak, but then—
Crunch.
The sound of dry leaves shifting underfoot carried from somewhere beyond the tree line. Michael’s head snapped up, eyes darting toward the shadows just past the dock.
“Did you hear that?” he whispered.
Claire stilled, her grip tightening slightly on his hand. “Hear what?”
Another pause. Nothing now—just the gentle lap of water against wood. Whoever—or whatever—it was, they were gone. Or hiding.
Michael forced a breath, scanning the darkness one last time before shaking his head, uneasy. “Never mind,” he muttered, but the knot in his gut didn’t loosen. Someone had been there. He was sure of it.
Michael lingered at the edge of the dock, eyes still fixed on the trees as though whoever had been there might step out of the shadows again. His pulse was still quick from the kiss, from Claire’s confession, from that crunch of leaves.
Claire touched his arm, drawing him back to her. “Hey,” she whispered, coaxing his gaze down to her. “Don’t overthink it. Probably just a deer.”
He swallowed hard. “I should… I should get back. If Elise wakes up and I’m not there—”
Claire shook her head with a quiet, almost knowing laugh. “Michael. You’ve shared a bed with her for years. You know she sleeps like the dead. She won’t notice.” Her hand slid lower, threading through his fingers with deliberate ease. “We have plenty of time before anyone’s awake. Just… come inside with me.”
Michael hesitated, guilt flickering sharp and raw in his chest. Every instinct told him to pull away, to turn back toward his own cabin, to Elise. But Claire’s eyes, luminous in the moonlight, held him fast. There was a plea in them, a hunger too familiar, and it tugged at the part of him he wished he could bury.
“Claire…” His voice cracked slightly. “This is dangerous.”
Her lips curved in a faint, almost taunting smile. “So was kissing me just now. And you didn’t stop.” She stepped closer, closing the last bit of space between them. “Don’t pretend you don’t feel it too.”
She tugged gently, leading him toward her cabin.
Michael’s feet betrayed him.
The cabin door clicked softly shut behind them, muting the sounds of the lake. For a moment, neither of them moved. Michael stood just inside, his breath uneven, his hands restless at his sides as if touching her again would tip the scale completely.
Claire leaned back against the wall, watching him with that same steady, piercing gaze she’d worn by the water. “You know,” she said quietly, “I never stopped wondering what it would feel like—if you ever looked at me the way you look at her.”
Michael’s chest tightened. “You can’t say things like that.”
“But I mean them.” Her voice cracked with something deeper than the playful tone she usually used with him. “And don’t tell me you haven’t thought about it too. I saw it in your eyes, even back then.”
Michael crossed the room in two strides before he even realized he’d moved. His hand pressed flat against the wall beside her head, his forehead nearly touching hers. “If you felt this way,” he whispered hoarsely, “why didn’t you tell me years ago?”
Her answer was immediate, raw. “Because she’s my best friend. Because I thought loving you from a distance was the only way to protect her. But I was wrong. I underestimated what I felt for you—what I still feel.”
Michael shut his eyes, fighting the storm raging inside him. When he opened them again, Claire was still there, eyes shimmering with vulnerability, lips parted as if waiting. His resolve cracked.
He kissed her—hard, desperate, years of restraint breaking at once. She clutched his shirt in both fists, pulling him closer, answering with the same urgency. There was no carefulness, no hesitation—just heat, honesty, and the ache of everything they’d denied themselves for so long.
When they broke for breath, Michael rested his forehead against hers, both of them shaking. “This is insane,” he muttered, though his hands were already tracing the curve of her waist.
“Maybe,” Claire whispered back, voice trembling with both guilt and longing. “But it’s real.”
The words dissolved between them as their mouths found each other again, fiercer this time, less restrained. Michael’s hands framed Claire’s face, fingers threading into her hair as if to anchor himself, while she tugged at his shirt until it came free beneath her hands.
Years of unspoken longing turned every touch electric. His palms skimmed down her back, pulling her flush against him, and she arched into him like she’d been waiting for this moment her whole life. They stumbled together toward the bed, their kiss never breaking, their movements clumsy with urgency.
When they finally collapsed onto the mattress, it wasn’t gentle—it was hungry, breathless. Claire pressed her forehead to his, laughter catching in her throat like a sob. “Do you have any idea how many times I imagined this?”
Michael’s answer came as a whisper against her skin, ragged with both need and guilt. “Too many. And now it’s real.”
The rest unfolded in a rush—hands exploring, lips tracing familiar-yet-new paths, the air thick with the sounds of their closeness. Every kiss was sharper, every caress deeper, as if they were trying to make up for all the years they had denied themselves.
It wasn’t polished or careful—it was raw. Urgent. Two people who had finally admitted the truth, losing themselves in it, even though both knew the morning would bring questions neither had answers for.
When it was over, they lay tangled together, the cabin quiet except for their uneven breathing. Michael’s chest heaved, his hand still pressed to Claire’s side as if afraid to let go. She turned her face into the crook of his neck, whispering against his skin:
“This… this was always supposed to happen.”
Michael didn’t answer. He couldn’t—not with his heart pulling him in two directions at once.
The air in the cabin was still charged, the kind of silence that followed a storm. Michael lay on his back, Claire curled against his chest, her fingers tracing lazy patterns over his skin as though she could memorize him by touch alone.
He wasn’t weighed down by regret—there was no shame in the way his body still ached for her, no guilt in the way he replayed their kiss over and over in his head. But there was a heaviness, a knot of questions tightening in his chest. He loved Elise. He knew that. But lying here with Claire, it was impossible to deny that something just as powerful lived between them, something different, something raw.
Finally, he shifted, brushing a kiss across her hairline before carefully easing out of her arms. Claire stirred, her eyes catching his in the dim light.
“You’re leaving?” she whispered, her voice low and edged with disappointment.
“I have to,” Michael said softly, though his tone was gentle rather than apologetic. He leaned down, pressing one last kiss to her lips—a promise, a tether—and then added, “See you soon.”
As he stood, Claire reached out, her fingers wrapping around his arm, holding him for just a beat longer. The plea was in her eyes even if she didn’t speak it aloud.
Michael paused, then bent and kissed her hand slowly, deliberately, letting his lips linger against her skin before pulling away.
Michael slipped back into the darkness, the door clicking softly shut behind him. His thoughts were a blur, his pulse still unsteady, but he forced himself to steady his breathing as he headed toward Elise’s cabin.
What he didn’t know was that in the trees beyond the path, a phone screen briefly glowed, capturing frame after frame—the kiss by the lake, the stolen goodbye outside Claire’s door, and his quiet retreat back through the shadows.
Someone had been watching. And now, someone knew.

Chapter 15
"The House Across The Lake - Elise"

The next morning dawned bright and cool, sunlight cutting sharp lines through the cabin curtains. I stretched beneath the thin blanket, a slow smile tugging at my lips. For the first time in a while, I felt rested—content—like the night before had ended on a dream I wasn’t quite ready to wake from.

Michael was still asleep, so I slipped out to grab some coffee from the mess hall.

The smell of burnt brew hit me before I even walked in, but I poured a steaming cup anyway, wrapping my hands around it for warmth. Instead of heading back, my feet carried me down the gravel path toward the lake—the one place that had always felt like mine.

The morning light shimmered across the water, still and glassy, and on the far side, half-hidden by the trees, stood the house. My house. At least, that’s what I’d always called it when I was younger. Weathered siding, wide porch, shutters hanging just slightly crooked—it wasn’t much, not really. But to me, it was magic. Every summer I’d stand right here, coffee in hand or bare feet in the dirt, and imagine myself living there. Growing up. Growing old. All of it.

“You still staring at that old place?”

The voice startled me, low and familiar, pulling me out of my thoughts. I turned to find James standing a few steps away, hands shoved into his pockets, a crooked grin on his face.

I laughed softly, a little embarrassed at being caught. “Guilty. Some habits never die.”

He stepped up beside me, squinting across the lake. “Funny you say that. It’s for sale, you know.”

My head snapped toward him. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope.” His grin softened, more knowing than teasing now. “I should know. I’m the one selling it.”

The words hung between us, heavy and electric. My coffee suddenly felt too hot in my hands, my heart thudding louder than it should for such casual small talk.

My breath caught. For a second, it felt like the world tilted—like the house had been waiting for me all along, patient through the years, and now here it was. Mine for the taking.

“This is it,” I murmured, more to myself than to him. My fingers tightened around the coffee cup. “This could actually be it. I should tell Michael… we could—” I trailed off, the words catching on the idea, on the sudden, dizzy possibility of it all.

James glanced sideways at me, his expression unreadable. Then he said, carefully, “I can set up a tour, if you want. Bring Michael. Walk through it, see how it feels. If you decide you like it…” He shrugged, casual, but his voice carried a weight. “Then it’s yours.”

I blinked at him, my heart racing. “Really?”

“Really. No one else has shown much interest. Too much work, I guess. Needs more than a coat of paint—new roof, plumbing, floors.” He smirked faintly, the corner of his mouth tugging up in that way I remembered too well. “But you always did like the fixer-uppers, didn’t you?”

Something in his tone made my stomach flutter, though I wasn’t sure if it was nostalgia or nerves. A small laugh escaped me as I looked back at the house, imagining Michael beside me on that porch, imagining a future wrapped in peeling paint and possibility.

James’s eyes lingered on me a beat longer than they should have before he finally turned back to the lake.

“All right,” I said finally, pulling myself away from the view of the house and from James’s steady gaze. “I should go get Michael up and tell him about the tour. I’ll come find you when we’re ready.”

James’s mouth curved into something caught between a smile and something else I couldn’t place. “All right. You know where to find me.”

I gave him a nod, clutching my coffee tighter than I needed to, and started back toward the cabin.


Chapter 16
"Let's Tour It - Elise"


Inside, the air was warm and close, carrying the faint scent of pine and old wood. Michael was still sprawled on the bed, one arm flung across the pillow where I’d been. I leaned over him, brushing his shoulder gently.

“Hey. Time to wake up.”

He groaned, rubbing at his eyes. “Already?”

“Already,” I said, grinning despite myself. “Come on, get dressed. We’ll grab breakfast, and then—I have a surprise.”

That perked him up, just a little. He sat up, squinting at me. “Surprise?”

“You’ll see.” I tossed him his hoodie from the chair, then ducked into the tiny bathroom to wash my face before he could question me further.

By the time we made it to the mess hall, the smell of pancakes and coffee was thick in the air. We slid into a booth by the window, the hum of other campers around us making it feel almost like the summers I remembered.

I waited until he was halfway through his eggs before I said it. “So… I scheduled us a tour. Of the house across the lake.”

Michael’s fork stalled just above his plate. For a second, he didn’t look at me. Then he set it down carefully, too carefully. “The old lake house?”

He pushed his plate away, jaw tight in that way it always got when something was bothering him. “So you just… scheduled a tour without even asking me first?”

The words caught me off guard. I blinked, heat rising in my cheeks. “I didn’t think I needed to ask. It’s just a tour, Michael. We don’t have to buy it.”

“Yeah, but still…” He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair. “It feels a little sudden, don’t you think? We literally just got engaged yesterday, Elise. And now you’re already making plans for a house?”

My heart sank at the sharpness in his voice, though I tried not to let it show. “I thought you’d be excited. Isn’t that the whole point of getting engaged? Planning our life together?”

He let out a slow breath, eyes flicking down to the table. For a long moment, all I heard was the chatter of the mess hall and the clatter of plates in the kitchen.

“I just…” He shook his head. “It feels fast, that’s all.”

I softened my tone, reaching across the table to touch his hand. “It’s just a tour. If you don’t like it, we walk away. No harm done. But I’ve loved that house for years, Michael. You know that. And the idea of us making it ours… it feels right to me.”

He looked at me then, his expression torn, like he wanted to argue but couldn’t find the words. Finally, he squeezed my fingers once and pulled his hand back.

“Fine,” he said quietly. “We’ll go. But Elise…” He paused, his eyes sharp, searching mine. “Don’t get your hopes up too high, okay?”

I forced a smile, even though his reluctance stung. “Okay. I promise.”

But deep down, I couldn’t help it. The thought of standing inside that house, of picturing our life unfolding in the rooms I’d dreamed about since I was fifteen—it already had my hopes soaring.

Michael tapped his fork against his plate, the sound sharp enough to make me flinch. “Who’d you even schedule a tour through? Some realtor in town?”

I smiled, a little spark of excitement lighting in my chest. “Actually—funny enough—it’s James. He’s the listing agent for the house. He offered to give us a tour himself. Isn’t that crazy? What are the odds?”

Michael froze mid-motion, his brows pulling together. “James?” The way he said the name—flat, clipped—made my stomach twist.

“Yeah,” I said slowly, trying to read his reaction. “James. What’s wrong with that?”

“Nothing.” He shoved the last bite of toast into his mouth, chewing like it had personally offended him. “Whatever.”

I frowned, but let it drop. I’d long since learned when pressing him would only make things worse. Instead, I forced a bright smile. “Well, anyway, it’ll be nice, right? You’ll finally get to see the place I’ve been talking about for years.”

Michael only gave a noncommittal hum, his eyes fixed on his coffee like it held the answers to questions I couldn’t hear.

After breakfast, Michael followed me out of the mess hall, his steps heavier than usual, his silence sharp. I tried not to let it bother me, tried to focus on the excitement thrumming through me instead. The house. After all these years, I was finally going to see it up close.

Chapter 17
"The Tour - Elise"

We found James standing near the dock, a clipboard tucked under his arm as he chatted with another camper about something mundane. When his eyes flicked to me, his face softened into that familiar half-smile, the kind that made me feel sixteen again.

“Hey,” I called out, waving as we approached. “We’re ready whenever you are for the tour.”

James’s gaze shifted to Michael, polite but cautious. “Good morning.”

Michael didn’t bother with a smile. “Morning,” he said flatly, the word landing heavy in the air.

I glanced between them, heat creeping up the back of my neck. James cleared his throat and looked back at me.

“I just need to grab the keys, and then we’ll head over. Shouldn’t take more than a few minutes.”

“Perfect,” I said quickly, trying to smooth over the tension that pulsed between them like static.

As James stepped away, I tugged Michael by the arm, pulling him just far enough aside that no one else could hear.

“What is your deal?” I hissed.

Michael’s jaw flexed. “I don’t like him.”

I blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I said I don’t like him. He’s… smug. I don’t trust it.”

My chest tightened, part exasperation, part embarrassment. “Michael, you’re being rude. He’s doing us a favor, giving us this tour. Can you please just—” I lowered my voice further, pleading—“get it together?”

He looked away, lips pressed into a thin line, but didn’t argue. That silence told me everything: he’d heard me, but whether or not he’d actually listen was another story.

James reappeared a few minutes later, keys jangling casually in his hand.

“All set,” he said, his gaze flicking briefly to Michael before landing back on me. “Figured instead of driving over, we could walk. There’s a trail along the lake—it’s the same one we used to sneak down to when we were kids. It’s scenic. Thought you’d like it.”

My heart jumped at the suggestion. “Yes—absolutely,” I said quickly, maybe a little too eagerly. “I’d love that.”

“Sure,” Michael muttered, the word sharp and flat. “Can’t wait.”

I shot him a look and gave him a quick nudge with my elbow, a silent plea to knock it off. His expression didn’t shift much, but at least he didn’t add anything else.

James, though—he caught it. I could see it in the way his mouth twitched, the flicker in his eyes. He’d noticed Michael’s irritation. But instead of bristling or pushing back, he just let it roll off him, almost amused. Like it didn’t matter. Like he had the upper hand in a way Michael couldn’t touch.

“Great,” James said, gesturing toward the path. “Follow me.”

As we started walking, the lake stretched wide beside us, sunlight glinting across its surface. The air was crisp, filled with the distant sounds of laughter from the campgrounds, but beneath it all there was something else—an undercurrent, something only the three of us could feel.

And James walked ahead with a quiet confidence, the kind that made my stomach twist in ways I couldn’t quite explain.

The trail wound close to the lake, the sun shimmering over the water in soft, broken streaks. Gravel crunched under our shoes as James led the way, his stride easy, like he’d walked this path a thousand times before.

“Remember when we tried to sneak out here for the Fourth of July fireworks?” James asked suddenly, glancing over his shoulder at me.

I laughed, covering my mouth as the memory hit. “Oh my God, yes. And we got caught halfway down the trail because your flashlight batteries died.”

James grinned. “Not my fault you insisted we take the long way.”

“It was your idea to bring sparklers!” I shot back, still laughing. “You nearly set your sleeve on fire.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Details, details.”

The easy rhythm of our banter made the walk feel shorter, lighter, like no time had passed at all. Each memory sparked another, and before I knew it, we were swapping stories of late-night swims, campfire songs, and counselors who never quite figured out our hiding spots.

Beside and just behind me, though, Michael stayed quiet. Every so often, I glanced at him, hoping to see him smile—or at least soften—but instead he just kept his arms crossed, eyes on the ground, jaw tight. When James and I burst out laughing at the memory of the canoe tipping over, Michael let out a long sigh that sounded suspiciously like an eye roll.

I nudged him lightly with my elbow as we walked, lowering my voice. “Hey. Don’t be like that.”

“I’m not,” he muttered, not looking at me.

But I knew better.

The trail opened up at a clearing where the old house stood, weathered but proud, its paint faded to a pale gray that almost blended with the drift of clouds overhead. James pulled a set of keys from his pocket and worked the lock, the hinges groaning as he swung the door open.

“Here we are,” he said, gesturing grandly like he’d just revealed a secret treasure.

Before the words were even out of his mouth, I darted past him, my heart pounding with excitement. The air inside smelled faintly of dust and cedar, and I spun slowly, taking in every inch—the slanted ceilings, the wide old windows, the scuffs in the hardwood that told their own story.

“Oh my God,” I whispered, crossing into the living room. “It’s even better than I imagined. Look at this fireplace—Michael, look!”

I crouched, brushing my hand across the worn stone, a smile pulling at my lips.

Behind me, Michael’s footsteps were slower, more deliberate. He lingered near the doorway, eyes sweeping the place with none of my enthusiasm. His hands stayed stuffed deep in his pockets, his jaw tight.

“Yeah,” he said flatly. “It’s… something.”

I turned to him, a little taken aback. “Something? This is incredible, Michael. Don’t you see it?”

James’s eyes flicked between us, his expression unreadable, though there was the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth as if he’d caught the tone.

“Place has good bones,” James said smoothly, stepping past Michael to join me in the living room. “Needs work, sure. But I’ve seen worse turn into dream homes.”

I nodded eagerly. “Exactly. It just needs some love. You can feel the history here.”

Michael stayed by the door, watching, his shoulders stiff as I followed James deeper inside.
I practically floated from room to room, touching the doorframes, peeking into the old kitchen with its dated cabinets and crooked knobs, already imagining what it would look like painted fresh and bright.

“Michael,” I called, tugging him by the hand when he finally shuffled in behind us. “Can’t you just see us here? Coffee by the window in the mornings, late nights by the fire…”

He gave a thin smile, but his voice stayed flat. “Yeah. Sure. Looks like a lot of work, though.”

“It’s worth it,” I said quickly, brushing off his tone. “Every house takes work.”

James leaned against the doorway, watching us with arms crossed. “Depends on who’s doing the work,” he said casually, but there was an edge beneath it. His eyes lingered on Michael just a second too long before he added, “Some people can handle a fixer-upper. Some can’t.”

I laughed lightly, missing the way Michael’s jaw clenched. “Well, you know me. I’ve always loved projects like this.”

“Yeah,” James said, smiling at me. “You always did. You’ve got the kind of vision most people don’t.”

Michael shifted, stuffing his hands deeper into his pockets. “Vision doesn’t fix broken pipes,” he muttered.

James straightened a little, tilting his head. “True. But with the right support, anything’s possible.”

Upstairs, I opened the first bedroom door and gasped at the sunlight spilling across the old hardwood. “Oh my gosh, Michael—this could be our room,” I said, twirling a little in the middle of it. “Can’t you just see it?”

Michael hovered at the doorway, his hand still on the knob like he wasn’t sure he even wanted to step inside.

“It’s… fine,” he said, his tone clipped.

James leaned against the wall, arms folded. “Guess it depends on what you’re looking for,” he said smoothly. His gaze slid toward Michael, sharp enough that it made my stomach flutter, though I didn’t know why. “Some people want something steady. Something that lasts. Others…” His shrug was casual, but the pause carried weight. “…others just get caught up in the moment.”

Michael’s head snapped toward him, eyes narrowing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” James said quickly, lifting his palms like he’d meant no harm. But then he added with a little smirk, “You know. Houses. Some people are in it for the long haul, some aren’t.”

I laughed nervously, trying to bridge the weird tension buzzing between them. “Well, I’m definitely in it for the long haul. Michael, come look at the view from this window—it’s perfect!”

He stepped inside finally, but his movements were stiff. I threw open the curtains, grinning at the wide stretch of lake beyond.

“See?” I said, looking between them. “Doesn’t this feel like… forever?”

“Yeah,” Michael muttered, but his jaw was tight.

James’s eyes flicked toward him again, unreadable.

I spun again, arms stretching as if to take it all in. “All I see,” I breathed, “is home.”

Michael didn’t respond. But I felt the weight of his silence, and though I couldn’t understand it, I knew it wasn’t about the house.

The house creaked around us, old wood whispering under every step. Elise wandered from room to room, her face alight as if each doorway opened onto another childhood dream.

James walked at her side, his voice smooth as ever. “It suits you,” he said. “Every corner feels like it’s been waiting for someone who already loves it.”

Michael trailed behind, arms folded, his eyes shadowed.

As Elise stepped back into what must have once been the living room, James slowed until Michael drew even with him in the narrow hall.

“Funny,” James murmured, glancing toward the lake through a dusty window. “You’d be surprised how much you can see from the waterline at night. Shadows carry sound. Secrets too.”

Michael’s pulse kicked hard in his chest. He turned his head, meeting James’s steady gaze. The man’s smile was pleasant, harmless to anyone else, but the weight behind it was unmistakable. He knows.

Elise’s voice drifted back to them, bright and oblivious. “Michael, come see this view!”

James gestured forward, his expression unreadable. “Go on,” he said softly. “She deserves your full attention.”

Michael joined her, but his skin buzzed with unease. Elise leaned out the window, her hair catching sunlight, and whispered, “Isn’t it perfect?”

He nodded, trying to match her excitement, but behind him James’s footsteps creaked deliberately across the floorboards, each one a reminder: I saw you. I could tell her.

Elise turned, eyes shining. “Michael, can’t you just try and imagine us here?”

Michael swallowed hard, forcing a smile. “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “Yeah, I’ll try.”

But all he could feel was James’s gaze, pinning him like a shadow in every corner.