Chapter Text
Conrad
And there I was, lying in the back seat of my car in our backyard, forearm over my eyes, hiding from that happy, stupid crowd stumbling out of the bachelor party. And there they were: my best friend Steven, who I’d known my whole life but barely recognized anymore; a bunch of my brother’s college friends, drunk and obnoxiously loud; and, of course, the star of the evening—my legendary, soon-to-be-married brother.
A big fucking baby.
A liar.
A cheater.
I get it, okay? I know I promised my mom I’d look after him before she died. And I did. I really did. I shipped myself off to the other side of the world for four years so that I wouldn't come between him and his perfect relationship. That was the best I could do for him back then. That was me taking care of him.
Until today.
Today I was lying in the back seat of my car, wiping my tears away, trying to keep my panic attack under control. It had been a while. A long, quiet while since the last one. That fancy, overpriced therapy my father had paid for—his idea of caring—really did work. Seriously. No joke. I learned how to stop them. How to fight them and drag my body back under control… until I couldn’t. Until today.
Shame. Fear. Pain. Fury. Tenderness. Everything hit at once.
It’s okay. I’ll be fine. I promise I will. I’ll pull myself together. Tomorrow I’ll go to this ridiculous wedding, play the “best” co-best man for my brother, smile, laugh, celebrate, and then leave. Leave and rot away on some California beach. But now, just give me a minute. Just let me lie here in the back seat of my car, hiding from that happy, stupid crowd breaking our hurricane vases in the kitchen.
Breathe. Breathe, buddy. Breathe. In, out. In, out. Good. Again. That's it. I’ve got you. That’s what you need right now. That’s what your mom would have wanted.
It got darker. Everybody inside seemed to have crashed. I was alone in the car, weighing my chances of running into someone in the house. Seeing anyone right now was the absolute last thing I wanted. I'd finally worked up the courage to get the hell out of that car when I heard footsteps. In the ringing post-party silence of the summer night, they sounded deafening and determined. And with every step, they grew louder.
Closer.
A figure flashed past the window, and I pressed myself into the seat. I couldn't stand the thought of explaining myself to anyone. I ducked down, closed my eyes, and just tried to wait it out. Could I have imagined it all? Am I just losing my mind, or am I still reeling from what happened on the beach? Suddenly, the driver’s door swung open. My eyes snapped wide, my heart seizing. A light blue backpack landed on the front passenger seat. Someone slid behind the wheel and started the engine.
That was her.
The girl who smelled like lilies and candy. The girl with the most beautiful smile on the planet. The girl I'd confessed my love to barely an hour ago. Belly. My Belly. My brother’s fiancée.
My car was speeding through a rainy summer night in Cousins. Thunder rumbled, and the wind roared through the open window. I lay perfectly still in the back seat, terrified of giving myself away. Above me, Belly’s hair was whipping around. Her whole body was shaking with sobs as she pressed down on the gas pedal, as if trying to force the world into silence. I didn't know what to do. I wanted to hold her and kiss her tears away. Calm her down somehow. Make her smile again. But I felt like I was trespassing—like I had no right to be there, watching her in secret. I stayed frozen, barely breathing, staring at her hair—still messy, just like when we were kids—as it was streaming over my face, driving me insane with that scent of hers, the one no distance had ever let me forget. Before I could stop myself, I lifted a hand and barely brushed the ends of her hair.
Fuck. I was crossing a line. I knew it. Ignoring her wish for me to vanish, to leave her alone. But I couldn't. Just couldn't. If I was going to lose her to my brother, then I still had a right to one touch.
Belly kept her foot hard on the gas, the engine revving beneath her. Desperate for some control, she turned on the music.
My music. Get it?
Heavy beats competed with the thunder to be the soundtrack of this trainwreck. Charli XCX was singing, "I think I'm gonna die in this house."
Embarrassment. Now she'll think I'm just some broody, gloomy guy. Not like Jeremiah—all sunshine and smiles.
Rapture. Goosebumps spread across my skin. She was listening to my music. Sitting in my car. Going... wait... where is she going? Is she running? You'd want that, huh? Pathetic. She made it perfectly clear she wants nothing to do with you... Chill the hell out, buddy. This isn't about you.
Okay, but why? Why has she been looking at me like she wanted to kiss me all week? What about the surf accident? The day we went to Michaels? And why is she crying now? My brother crashed out drunk hours ago. Did she tell him?
Charli's beats faded into an epic Labrinth vibe.
Mental note: add a couple of Taylor's songs to the playlist for occasions like right now.
Belly reached for the backpack and pulled out a bottle of whiskey. Seriously? She twisted off the cap and took a long drink. Okay, it’s not funny anymore. I mean, we all drank at those pre-wedding parties. She even mentioned she had some boozy gummies. But drinking now, behind the wheel, choking on her tears?
God, what have I done? Guilty for her tears, for what she feels now, for the four years she spent with my brother. Guilty for hesitating like a coward, too afraid to tell her how I felt.
Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.
And I’ll be guilty for real if I let her kill us right now. Fuck, we’ve talked about drunk driving like a million times. This isn’t Belly. None of this is like her. But maybe I really don’t know her anymore.
Belly was speeding up, downing whiskey behind the wheel. And I suddenly felt like this wasn’t just her private moment anymore. It was my cue to step in. I sat up, running a hand through my hair, wondering where the hell to even start.
“What the fuck?” Belly shrieked, her hands jerking the wheel as she caught sight of me in the rearview mirror. The car veered sharply into the oncoming lane.
“Watch out!” A semi-truck blasted past us, horn screaming. Belly yanked the wheel back just in time, and somehow we avoided crashing.
“What the hell, Belly?” I shouted.
“What are you doing here?” Her voice trembled.
“Driving drunk, huh?” I snapped, ignoring her question. While she was still reeling, I climbed into the front seat, threw her backpack behind us, and glared at her, furious.
“Is this the new you? The one you so proudly claimed I don't know?”
Belly was stunned and seething, frantically wiping at her tears as she could somehow hide what a mess she was. No use. I leaned in close, her ragged breath warm against my face. Our eyes met, and for a second, we just lost ourselves in each other.
“Watch the road.” Pulling myself away by sheer force of will, I reached over and buckled her seatbelt, then mine.
“Stop babying me, Conrad. I’m not sixteen anymore.”
“Oh, really?” I snatched the whiskey bottle out of her hands, shaking it in front of her face.
“Since when do you drive drunk, Belly? Are we trying to get ourselves killed tonight, or what?” I twisted the cap back on and threw the bottle into the back seat, just to be safe.
“Stop… lecturing me.”
“Grow up!”
For a moment, we both shut up. I knew what she was thinking. The last time I had said those exact words to her was at my mom's funeral. Not our finest moment.
We were driving in silence, neither of us daring to say a word.
I'm a textbook mood killer, for sure—always knowing exactly what to say to make things worse. The party was a total shitshow anyway, but still.
“Belly, I—I didn’t mean to…” I said quietly, trying to soften the blow.
“I like the song, though.” Belly disarmed me with that single phrase. I couldn't find the words and went quiet again, the heavy, hypnotic sound of I Monster’s “Who Is She” filling the car.
"I'm glad… glad you like my music," I managed to say, giving her a small, tentative smile. She turned to look at me. Her mascara was smeared beneath her eyes, and the sight of it hit me with this aching rush of tenderness. We held each other's gaze a beat too long, until Belly abruptly pressed a hand to her chest and forced herself to look back at the road.
“I’m sorry I took your car.” She sounded like she was suffocating. I rolled down my window.
“Where are you going?”
“I’ll just stop at some gas station and… and you can drive it back.”
“I don’t care about the car, Belly. You know that. I just…”
“I see a gas station like ten miles ahead,” she cut in, refusing to let me finish, her fingers fumbling with the map on her phone. Her chest started rising and falling too fast.
“Belly, stop.”
She was gasping now, short and shallow. Her whole body started shaking, her foot sinking into the floor without even realizing it. The speedometer was hitting 80 mph and climbing.
“Belly, talk to me.”
She kept pushing down on the pedal, spiraling, completely out of reach.
“It’s okay. It’s just a panic attack. You need to breathe.” I said, fighting to keep my own voice from shaking. Headlights were blurring through the rain-smeared windshield while oncoming semis were roaring past us in the opposite lane, their horns cutting through the dark like warnings from a nightmare. The speed was terrifying.
“Belly, breathe!” It was like she couldn’t hear or see anything anymore. She was sobbing and choking on air.
The blinding glare flooded the entire cabin. I lunged forward, grabbed the wheel, and yanked it to the right. The car spun out, skidding toward the ditch.
“Hit the brakes!” I fought for control as the car flew off the shoulder and tore down a dark wooded trail, barely dodging the trees. The brakes shrieked, and we slammed to a violent halt.
Silence.
A crack of thunder shook the car. Rain drummed against the windows as we struggled to catch our breath. Before I could even process that we were alive, the sharp click of a seatbelt broke the hush. Belly flung the door open and bolted into the downpour.
“Belly, wait!” I shouted, throwing myself out after her. But the dark, rain-soaked woods had already swallowed her whole.
Belly
“Belly!”
Rain crashed down in solid sheets. Thunder roared overhead as if trying to unleash everything that had built up for years. I ran through the pitch-black woods, my storm-torn dress snagging on wet branches. They lashed at my bare legs and arms, scratching my skin, leaving a mark for every wrong choice I'd made. Lightning flashed over and over, exposing everything for a split second—like a spoiler for what was waiting ahead. Nausea rolled through me. My head was spinning harder and harder. My lungs were burning. But I couldn't stop running.
“Belly, slow down, you'll fall!”
His voice carried over the storm—closer than I expected, rougher than I'd ever heard it. As scared as I was of the storm raging around me, I felt even more terrified to stop and look him in the eye. After all he'd said. After all I'd said. After all these years. What was I even supposed to tell him?
Sorry I kissed your brother?
Sorry I became his girlfriend?
Sorry I lay beneath him while letting him take the edge off?
Sorry I played the perfect, dutiful girlfriend as best I could? (I couldn't.)
Sorry for obsessively trying to build that flawless, Instagram-perfect relationship? (For years.)
Sorry I'm about to marry him against both our families' will?
“It’s not safe, Belly!”
Lightning struck dangerously close. As much as I knew it wasn't safe, I couldn't just stand there in front of him, my throat tight with tears, letting him see how much his words had gotten to me—how much that confession still meant, how badly it had wrecked me. After the fight at Susannah's funeral, I'd locked my feelings away for life. I'd promised that little brokenhearted version of myself I would never let her go through that again. Never let her feel the way she did back then.
Unloved.
Unwanted.
Not enough.
“Get in the car, Belly!”
First, it was his mother. Susannah had wanted us together so badly. And how do you say no to your dying mom? Then it was Jeremiah. Conrad could've chosen me back at the motel, but he didn't. He admitted it himself once—part of why he hated losing me to Jeremiah was that he just hated losing. Period. And this? This felt exactly the same. I was about to marry Jeremiah, and Conrad just couldn't stand the idea of losing again. And the fact that he chose now to confess all those supposed feelings for me is fucked!
“Belly, please!”
But what if he isn’t lying?
What if it’s true?
What if he really does love me?
What if he’s loved me all these years?
God. What have we done? Four years. Over fourteen hundred days. Millions of minutes wasted on complete bullshit.
“Just get in the car, Belly!”
We could’ve been stupidly happy.
We could’ve stayed up all night whispering sweet nothings on the phone.
We could’ve run into each other’s arms in airport terminals.
We could’ve spent Christmas after Christmas together, drinking cocoa and making love beside the fire.
We could’ve survived this grief together. Visited Susannah’s grave. Taken care of her garden.
We could’ve. Except we didn’t.
“Belly, where are you?”
And if he isn't lying, what would it even change now?
Breaking up with Jeremiah?
Running from one brother straight to the other?
Calling off the wedding?
Standing in front of everyone and admitting I'd picked the wrong Fisher? God. The fact that part of me even wants this. Pathetic. Ow—shit! Something sharp drove into my foot, and the cry tore out of me before I could swallow it.
"Belly!"
Fuck. Now he'll know exactly where I am. I can't do this. I just can't talk to him right now. I'll lose it.
I tried to walk faster, but the pain throbbed harder with every step, betraying me. I couldn't make myself go any further. Conrad's flashlight flickered somewhere nearby, and the air caught in my lungs again. My panic tipped over into full-blown hysteria.
“Belly, are you ok?”
Lightning strobed across the black woods. I was choking on my own helplessness.
On my fear.
On how fucked up my life is.
Conrad's voice kept getting closer. Another flash lit everything white, his light darting somewhere near, and I couldn't tell anymore what was real and what I was hallucinating. I felt like I was losing my mind.
Like I was dying.
I sank to the ground, too spent to keep fighting myself.
“Belly, thank God!” A beam swung onto my face. Conrad came running toward me, fear written all over his face. He dropped his phone onto the wet ground—the flashlight throwing sharp shadows across his features—knelt beside me, and gently cupped my face in his hands.
“Breathe. Breathe, Belly. In, out. In, out.” I stared into his sea-green eyes and followed his breathing, trying desperately to calm down. He walked me through it, counting out each breath, slow and patient, steadying me until my body remembered the rhythm.
“Good. Again. That's it. I’ve got you.” He stroked my wet hair while breathing slowly with me, never once looking away, rainwater dripping from his soaked curls. And for one terrifying second, I believed he really did love me.
Little by little, my breathing finally steadied. Conrad kept watching me like I was something fragile, matching my breath like he could keep me from falling apart just by not letting go. A clap of thunder snapped us back to reality.
“God, Belly, your foot.” He carefully lifted my leg, blood pouring down my ankle. “Come here.” He gathered me into his arms and carried me off into the night. I buried my face against his neck, drowned in the familiar salt-and-sea smell.
And I lost it.