Page 53 of Collins
“I got to your complex and sat in my rental long enough to try preparing myself for what I would say to you, how I would convince you to come back to me. While I sat there in the parking lot, some very unexpected things happened.” He runs a hand down his face and blows a long breath out his mouth before continuing. “You pulled into a parking spot right in front of me, you were right there. You didn’t see me though, and before I knew what to do, he pulled in, and your eyes were on him. Greg was there, and you got out of your car. That’s when I saw your belly.”
His words stab through me, taking my breath with them. Oh my god, he saw me? He isn’t looking into my eyes anymore, almost like he knows it will amplify the pain.
“You were pregnant…how could I interfere with that?” I swear his eyes start to glass over. “I thought I was going to die. Stayed locked up in a hotel room for days feeling sorry for myself. I knew I had to do one more thing before leaving you behind for good, though. I had to make sure this new man in your life was good enough for you. I wanted to hate him, Johnnie, I really did. But when I saw him heading to his truck from inside the hospital, a goddamn Mickey Mouse pin was attached to his scrubs, and he told me about how he was a pediatric nurse and that he was going home to propose to you—again.” He looks off, searching for the right words.
“I just knew he was good. He loved you. And that’s all I wanted for you. The best. So I left. Came back to Ohio and triedto move on with my life. Some days were more successful than others, but I was trying. Then you come back to town, and not only are you not engaged anymore, you’re not a mother either. Not unless you’ve kept a huge secret from me.”
Pain slices through me, just at the mention of being a mother. I was going to tell him, I just lost Nan, though. There’s only so much grief I can deal with at a time.
“Listen, you can explain all this to me whenever you’re ready. I already told you, I’m here for you as soon as you decide the time is right. But I do want to know. I want to know it all. You have to tell me everything, Johnnie.”
CHAPTER 30
johnnie
THEN
It’s beenover a month since my birthday and the night that changed everything between me and Collins. Some days it still feels like a fever dream, the kind you wake from slowly, blinking against the light, wondering if it could possibly be real. But it is. This life we’ve slipped into together feels almost too good to belong to me. Collins and I have grown closer in ways I never imagined, the space between us shrinking until there’s no air left to breathe that isn’t shared. Even with work keeping him busy most days, we find our way back to each other every night. We’re magnetic. Some nights he climbs through my window with that crooked grin that still makes my heartbeats trip over themselves; other nights I quietly slip across the dark to him. And every time we end up the same way—wrapped around each other, tangled in sheets with laughter and the quiet comfort of knowing we’re exactly where we want to be. It’s the kind of happiness that feels fragile and infinite all at once. The epitome of bliss.
Passing time before Collins gets home, I take the familiar path down to the lake. The air feels heavier than usual, thick in a way that makes the quiet shoreline seem almost uneasy. The water, usually a soft, comforting blue, has turned a deeper shade. Dark and restless ripples chase each other across the surface like whispered warnings. I pause at the edge, my gaze drifting upward to the sprawling maple tree above me. Its leaves have begun to curl inward, their edges folding toward themselves.
Someone once told me that’s how you know rain is coming.
In my experience, they’ve never been wrong.
A faint wind brushes across the lake, disturbing the wisps of hair reaching out from behind my ribbon-tied bun and sending another nervous shiver through the branches overhead. The sky has shifted while I wasn’t paying attention. Blue is fading at the edges, clouds gathering into thicker shapes that swallow the sunlight piece by piece. A sense of urgency settles low in my chest, and I turn toward home, quickening my pace.
By the time the trailer park comes into view, the change in the sky is impossible to ignore. The soft white clouds from earlier have vanished, replaced by looming gray masses that hang heavy with rain. The air crackles with that strange electric tension that always comes before a storm.
A streak of lightning suddenly tears across the sky, blinding and jagged, followed a heartbeat later by a crack of thunder so sharp it makes me jump. The sound echoes through my chest, amplifying the trepidation already coiling there. I hurry the rest of the way home, practically running.
Inside, I find Nan standing at the back window, completely still, her small frame silhouetted against the darkening sky outside. She doesn’t turn at first, just keeps staring upward like she’s searching for something in the storm clouds.
The door clicks shut behind me.
At the sound, she slowly turns.
The moment I see her face, my stomach drops. Fear is written across every inch of it.
“The power went out just as a weather announcement came on the TV.”
Sure enough, when I glance around, the familiar glow of electricity is gone. The silence in here feels heavier somehow, like the whole place is holding its breath.
I try to keep my voice steady, to keep my own nerves from rising to the surface. But it’s getting harder by the second, especially watching Nan. Her shoulders are tight, her hands twisting together in front of her like she doesn’t know what to do with them. Panic is already creeping into her expression. She’s always been terrified of storms. I don’t remember it myself, but my mom used to tell me about the time when I was a baby, and a bad storm rolled through town while Nan was watching me. When my mom got back to the trailer, she couldn’t find us at first. She searched every room before finally opening the hall closet door.
Inside, Nan was sitting on the floor, tucked into the corner, clutching me tightly against her chest. She had wrapped me up in a blanket and was rocking gently, whispering that everything would be okay.
Severe weather has never really bothered me. If anything, I’ve always liked storms—the distant rumble of thunder, the way the rain drums against the roof, the energetic feeling in the air before it all begins. But standing here now, inside this old trailer with its thin walls and rattling windows, that confidence feels a little misplaced.
Because the truth is, there’s nothing here to protect us. No basement. No sturdy foundation. Just aluminum siding and a roof that creaks when the wind picks up. The whole place suddenly feels too light, too fragile. Like one strong gust couldlift it straight off the ground. A real-lifeWizard of Ozsituation. And for the first time, the thought of it all doesn’t feel thrilling at all.
I always loved that movie when I was little. The flying monkeys scared the shit out of me, but I love witches and the idea of having a scarecrow, lion, and tin man as best friends was thrilling. Being Dorothy used to be a dream, but with everything going on outside at the moment, well, she’s not looking to be as much of an idol as I once thought.
Brightness fills the room over and over, and Nan audibly gasps when the thunder booms. My heart has officially picked up speed. The door flies open. Collins barrels in, raindrops on his light gray T-shirt. He’s holding two of his four-wheeler helmets, one in each hand.
I’m about to ask what the hell he’s doing when he comes behind us, wrapping his arms around our shoulders and urging us toward the living room.
“Come on, let’s get in the bathroom. It’s the safest place to be.”
