#thesummeriturnedpretty

The menus had barely been cleared.

The table still smelled like lemon water and rosemary when Belly said it:

“We’re getting married!”

For a moment, no one spoke.

You felt the silence hit your chest like cold water. It wasn’t the kind of quiet that came from joy, or shock, or even disbelief. It was heavier than that. Like someone had yanked the air out of the room.

Laurel was the first to blink. “What?”

Belly smiled, small, uncertain. Jeremiah sat beside her, nodding, hand on hers like he could anchor it all.

“We didn’t want to say anything before we were all together at the dedication,” she added quickly. “But we're here now and it just feels… right.” Her smile was shaky.

Mr. Fisher set down his fork. Steven leaned back in his chair with a sharp exhale, muttering, “You’ve got to be kidding.”

Conrad didn’t say a word. His jaw was tight. His eyes never left his plate.

You felt it in your body before you could name it: the spinning, the pressure, the way your throat clenched like it was closing. You looked down at your napkin, trying to steady your breathing.

This was supposed to be about Susannah. About remembering. About family. And now your little sister was dropping this bomb like it was casual.

“You’re engaged?” you finally said, voice barely audible.

Belly nodded. “I thought you’d be happy for me.”

Happy?

You didn’t know what to feel.

Everyone at the table was unraveling, and somehow they still expected you to keep your spine straight and your smile fixed.

“I need some air,” you said, standing too fast. Laurel called your name, but you were already walking. You didn’t stop. Didn’t look back.

---

You were behind the wheel before you realized where you were going.

The sky had darkened fast, clouds rolling in like they were summoned just for you. Wind lashed against the trees, bending them low. Rain hit five minutes later. Hard. Loud. You turned up the wipers, but it didn’t help.

Your phone buzzed on the passenger seat: Steven. Then Laurel. Then Belly.

You didn’t answer.

You could still hear her voice. “I thought you’d be happy for me.” Like your exhaustion was a betrayal.

Your hands shook on the steering wheel. You weren’t even crying yet, just gasping, dry and soundless. You could feel it building in your chest, like thunder.

Engaged. She was engaged. And you were... what?

Working a job you hated. Barely affording rent. Trying to parent your parents and fix a family that kept splintering around you.

You didn’t see the branch.

The car jolted hard as the tire blew, swerving on the slick road. You lost control, skidded sideways, and veered off into a shallow ditch. Your head snapped sideways - pain flashed white - and then all you could hear was the rain.

You sat there, shaking.

Your head was spinning, panic and dizziness combining. Fumbling with your phone, your fingers slipped twice before you could hit his name.

“Y/N?” Conrad’s voice was immediate, sharp. “Where are you?”

“I.. I crashed,” you whispered. “It’s raining, and I hit something, I couldn’t see…”

“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You touched your temple. Blood on your fingers.

“I think I hit my head.”

“Jesus... okay. I’ve got you. I’m tracking your phone. Don’t hang up.”

“I didn’t know who else to call.”

“You don’t need anyone else,” he said.

The call didn’t even end properly. It dropped. But you didn’t need it. You knew he was coming.

---

He found you twenty minutes later, parked halfway into a ditch, shivering in the front seat.

His door slammed. Then he was there, pulling yours open. Rain poured in, but you didn’t care. You barely registered it. You only registered him.

“You’re bleeding,” he said, kneeling beside you. “Shit. Okay, let me see.”

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not.”

You flinched as he touched your face, but you didn’t stop him. He peeled back your hair gently, touching around the wound.

“Does this hurt?”

“No more than everything else,” you said, voice hoarse.

Conrad stilled.

You finally looked up at him: soaked to the bone, hair plastered to his face, eyes wild and worried.

“I feel like I’m drowning, Conrad...” you whispered. “I can’t fix anything. My mom’s falling apart with guilt. Steven’s angry at everyone after his accident. Belly’s getting married and I’m… nothing. I can’t do anything right. I’m so tired of pretending I can.”

His face twisted. “You’re not nothing.”

“I feel pathetic.”

“You’re not.”

“I feel alone.”

He swallowed.

“You’re not alone.”

You stared at him. “Then why do you keep leaving me?”

That stopped him cold.

He opened his mouth, then shut it again. His hands were shaking now.

Then he reached up to wipe a streak of red from your temple with his thumb - and froze.

So did you.

The air between you shifted, heavy, like the storm had followed you inside.

His hand lingered at your cheek, thumb still ghosting over skin. You could feel every breath, every heartbeat.

“I didn’t mean to,” he said finally, quietly. “I just… I didn’t know how to be around you. Not with how I felt.”

You blinked at him. “What are you talking about?”

His eyes searched yours, like maybe this was the moment he was finally going to say it.

But he didn’t.

He looked down instead, dropping his hand.

“It’s just… easier to stay away sometimes. That doesn’t mean I wanted to.”

You were quiet. Your heart was loud.

“Then don’t,” you said.

He nodded once. Still not looking at you. But his thumb brushed your knee, just once, and didn’t move away.

“Come on,” he said, quieter now. “Let’s get you home.”

---

You sat in silence the whole drive back, rain still pouring like hell outside.

When he parked in your driveway, you didn’t move right away.

“Thank you,” you said finally.

He nodded, eyes on the steering wheel. “Anytime.”

You opened the door.

He didn’t stop you. But he didn’t drive off, either.

And as you walked back toward the house, blood drying on your skin, heart still breaking in too many places to count, you could feel his eyes on your back.

Watching. Waiting.