Page 95 of Through the Storm

Thank you for checking in, Caroline. I appreciate it.

Caroline

Let us know if you need absolutelyanything. We’ll see you next weekend!

I stare at Katy’s response longer than I should.

It sounds perfectly polite.

That’s the problem.

A week ago, she would’ve sent something sarcastic or funny back. She had been loving the attention.

A weird feeling settles low in my stomach.

We’d been having such a good time together. We were so good. But ever since the bonfire, something’s been… off.

Not in an obvious way. Just like a gut feeling.

At first, I tell myself I’m overthinking it. She’s probably more tired than usual so she’s been quieter. She’s been writing a lot, so it makes sense that I’ve seen her less.

And she doesn’t seem upset, just distracted. Like her thoughts are a few steps ahead of her body. But the spark in her eyes dimmed. Maybe the book she’s been writing is sad or something.

I get out of the car to pick her up for lunch. She greets me, textbook polite, but she doesn’t kiss me. She doesn’t cling to my hand like she did.

I slow my stride without thinking, matching her pace like I always do. Except this time, she doesn’t notice or smile.

That’s also new. I open the car door for her, and she thanks me, again polite but distant. It just… doesn’t feel like her.

Whatever we had going on before? It’s gone. The vibes are completely ruined. I wait until we’re buckled in and pulling out of the driveway before I try to ask her what’s going on.

“Are you okay?”

She nods quickly. “Yeah. Totally. Why?”

“Because you’ve been kinda… quiet,” I say carefully. “Which is fine. I just wanna make sure I didn’t miss something.”

She keeps her eyes on the road. “You didn’t.”

I nod, even though my gut disagrees. We drive in silence for aminute. Then two. Then three. Normally we fill space easily with music debates, dumb jokes, me pointing out what fruit the baby is this week. But now the quiet stretches, heavy and unfamiliar.

Finally, I break. “Was it weird that my mom added you to the group chat?”

She exhales slowly, like she’s been holding it in. “No. She’s lovely. I’m just… a little scared I’ll break her heart.”

“I get it,” I say quickly. “I know she seems nice and sweet, but she’s not a delicate flower, Katy. My mom is a grown woman who will love our baby like her own no matter what. I promise. I wouldn’t let her near you if I wasn’t sure of it.”

“I know.” Her voice softens. “Your whole family’s amazing.”

The compliment lands weird. Like she’s thanking me for something she didn’t expect to be thankful for. I glance over at her. She’s gripping the straps of her purse tighter than necessary.

“Katy.” I lean in slightly. “If something else is bothering you, you can tell me. You should tell me. I want to fix it.”

She smiles at me then. A real smile. Warm and familiar.

“I know.”

And somehow, that makes it worse.