Chapter 3: The Lake House Memory

Chapter 3: The Lake House Memory

I couldn't sleep. The funeral was over, but whispers followed me through town like persistent shadows. At midnight, I grabbed my keys and drove, letting muscle memory guide me down familiar back roads until gravel turned to dirt and the old Pearson lake house emerged from the darkness.

Twenty-five years, and it still stood – weathered and abandoned, but standing. The moon painted silver streaks across the water, and for a moment, I was eighteen again, sneaking out to meet him here.

"Your dad would kill me if he knew," Ethan had whispered against my neck that first night, his hands trembling as they slipped under my shirt.

"Then we won't let him know."

I killed the engine but left the headlights on, illuminating the rickety dock where we'd spent countless summer nights. The wooden planks creaked under my feet as I walked out over the water, each step echoing with memories.

"I thought I might find you here."

My heart stopped. I knew that voice – had heard it just hours ago delivering a beautiful eulogy for my mother. I turned slowly, and there he was, silhouetted in my car's headlights. Ethan.

"Following me now?" I meant it to sound teasing, but my voice cracked.

"Saw your car pass my house." He stepped onto the dock, and the old wood groaned beneath us both. "Figured you were either heading here or leaving town again."

"Not sure which would be smarter." I sat at the edge of the dock, letting my feet dangle above the water. After a moment's hesitation, he joined me.

"Heard Mrs. Peterson telling everyone at the reception about seeing us at the market," he said quietly. "Some things never change in this town."

I laughed bitterly. "Yeah, I caught Linda Baker's daughter staring at me like I was some kind of exhibit. Bet she's heard all the old stories by now."

"You mean how the Mitchell boy and the Turner kid were caught behind the bleachers?" His shoulder brushed mine, sending electricity through my body. "Or how they disappeared every weekend to the abandoned lake house?"

"God, we thought we were so careful." My fingers found a loose splinter in the dock – the same spot where he'd carved our initials one night. They were still there, weathered but visible: E.T. + C.M.

"We were kids." His hand covered mine, stopping my fidgeting with the wood. His palm was rough now, calloused from years of construction work. "Kids who thought we could change the world with love."

"Were we wrong?" I turned to look at him, and the moonlight caught his profile just right – that same sharp jaw, those lips I'd memorized with my own.

"Cal..." His grip tightened on my hand. "Don't."

"Don't what? Remember? Because I've tried forgetting, Ethan. For twenty-five years, I've tried to forget the way you felt, the way you tasted, the sounds you made when—"

His mouth crashed into mine, desperate and hungry, tasting of whiskey and something uniquely Ethan. I grabbed his shirt, pulling him closer, years of longing pouring into one kiss. His hand cupped my face, thumb stroking my cheek like he used to, and I was lost.

"Promise me," he'd begged on our last night here, "promise me you won't forget."

"Never," I'd sworn, tasting salt on his lips. "I could never forget you."

We broke apart, both breathing hard. His forehead rested against mine, and I could feel him shaking.

"Shit," he whispered. "Shit, Cal, we can't—"

"Why not?" My hands were still fisted in his shirt. "You're divorced. I'm single. We're not kids anymore."

"Because." He pulled back, but didn't let go of my face. "Because this town hasn't changed. Because my dad's still the mayor, and your father still runs the church council, and people still whisper about us like we're dirty secrets."

"I don't live here anymore," I reminded him. "I have a life in Seattle. A good one."

His thumb traced my bottom lip, and I had to fight not to kiss it. "And I have a life here. A son in college. A business."

"Are you happy?"

The question hung between us, heavy as storm clouds. His hand dropped to my neck, pulse jumping under his fingers.

"I haven't been happy since the day you left."

The confession broke something in my chest. I surged forward, kissing him again, softer this time. He melted into it, making a sound low in his throat that I remembered from all those nights ago.

When we parted, he pressed his face into my neck, breathing me in. "The whole town will be talking by morning."

"Let them talk." I ran my fingers through his hair, silver strands mixing with dark. "I'm tired of living for other people's comfort."

He lifted his head, those amber eyes searching mine. "What are you saying, Cal?"

"I'm saying..." I traced the lines around his eyes, mapping the changes time had carved into his beautiful face. "I'm saying maybe it's time we finished what we started twenty-five years ago. Properly this time."

The lake lapped at the dock posts, a steady rhythm like a heartbeat. Somewhere in the distance, a screen door slammed, reminding us we weren't alone in the world.

"It won't be easy," he warned, but his hands betrayed him, sliding under my jacket like they belonged there.

I smiled against his lips. "When has anything worth having ever been easy?"