The lakehouse looked exactly the same.
Quiet. Empty. Still smelling faintly of cedar and late summer air. But stepping through the front door felt different now—like crossing into a memory too charged to stay buried.
This was where it all began.
Where I got drunk enough to stop pretending.
Where I kissed my stepbrother.
Where I let him into my body.
Where I accidentally, undeniably, got pregnant.
I dropped my overnight bag by the door and stood in the middle of the living room, staring at the couch. I could still feel him there—his hands gripping my hips, his lips on my throat, his voice thick and low as he whispered my name like it was the only word that mattered.
I shouldn’t have come back.
But I needed space. Needed to breathe. Needed to remember that this was my life now. My c
