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The air in Velvet Cove tasted like lake water and damp cedar.
It was 1998, and the humidity made the labels on the VHS tapes in Swann’s room curl at the corners. Swann stood in front of the mirror and second-guessed her outfit for the third time. She wore a soft buttoned blouse tucked neatly into her favorite high-waisted jeans. The fabric felt a little too stiff against her skin. It was the nicest thing she owned though.
Too formal? Too plain? Too…hopeful?
Swann was feeling a little hesitant as she smoothed the front of the blouse over her hips and adjusted the collar. She didn't want to look like she cared way too much today even though she really did.
It was just a meet-up, she reminded herself.
The four of them would finally be together again. Time stretched strangely in Velvet Cove, especially when it came to the people she missed. She didn't see her friends for a week and it felt like a lifetime.
Nora didn't have much free time because of her midterms. She’s twenty now and the workload was clearly piling up. She still managed to check in though. That mattered more than Swann wanted to admit.
Late-night study sessions often drifted into slow conversations on the dorm steps. There were coffee runs where Swann didn't ever have to say what she wanted. Nora would just pass her a snack when Swann got too focused on studying and forgot her own lunch. Nora just knew things. And Swann has never felt that seen by anyone else before.
Autumn was just as busy. Her final portfolio deadline was bearing down on her, but she always found time to reach out. She always texted Swann first and asked how she was doing.
The two of them met after class just last week and wandered down to the lake with sketchbooks and no real plans. Swann ranted that day about how she felt so stressed over a new project. Autumn just listened and rested her head on Swann’s shoulder like she’d done it a hundred times before.
Swann didn’t pull away. Sometimes she'd even lean back.
And Kat, she had been…elsewhere. She stayed at the ranch while the rest of them dealt with the start of the semester. It felt like a gap in the group that Swann couldn't quite bridge with a phone call.
The ranch was crawling with early-season tourists, Dylan had said. It was booked solid until summer and Kat missed the last couple of hangouts because of that.
She missed their movie night. She missed Autumn’s one-night gallery showcase. She even missed a late dinner with them at Blue Spruce, where Swann sat with an empty seat beside her and pretended she it wasn't bothering her.
Swann ran her fingers through her hair and tried to get it to sit right. It never really did, but she cared more today. She didn't know why. Maybe it's because she would be there.
Swann surely missed her friends. She missed the four of them together. Lately, it felt like they were always just missing each other. School was part of it, but she could still remember the day everything shifted between them.
It was Nora at first.
They were hanging out in the pizzeria down the street while they waited for the others. Nora asked her earlier that day if they could meet up an hour early. Swann didn't have anything else to do after school, so she agreed.
They spent that hour talking about nothing in particular. They drifted between summer plans they probably wouldn't keep and the new band they discovered. They even laughed about Dylan’s ridiculous new boyfriend. For a while, it felt easy like old times.
Nora went quiet about half an hour later.
Swann sat across from her and tried to finish some schoolwork in her notebook. Nora was just finishing her can of soda. When Swann finally looked up from her notes to see what was wrong, she found Nora just watching her with a soft smile.
"You okay?" Swann asked, putting her pen down.
She reached for her unopened soda. Before she could grab it, Nora gently took the can from her hand. Nora opened it for her with a sharp hiss and handed it back. She kept her eyes fixed on Swann’s the whole time.
"Oh... thanks," Swann said, feeling a little flustered.
Nora turned to look out the window at the people passing by. The setting sun cast long shadows over the street. She didn't speak again for a moment. "I’ve been thinking about something," she said.
Swann waited, her heart starting to thump against her ribs.
"I think I like you," Nora said. "Like, really like you."
Swann froze because she wasn't sure she heard it right. "You’re kidding," she managed to say, and a nervous little laugh escaped her because she thought maybe this was just some random dare.
But Nora turned back with a look so serious that the laugh died in Swann's throat. "I’m not."
Swann didn’t know what to say to that. Nora was special to her. She knew that in her heart. It was a different kind of special though. She didn't think about her that way even once. The realization made her feel heavy.
"I didn’t..." Swann began. Her voice caught in the dry air of the shop. "I didn’t know you felt that way."
"It's fine," Nora said with a slow shrug, like she already prepared herself for that answer. "I wasn’t going to say anything. I just thought if you didn’t hear it from me first, you'd think it's not real. But it is. So now you know."
Swann opened her mouth and closed it again, reaching for words that weren't there. The obvious ache in Nora's voice made her chest tighten, especially while she wondered how to take back the way she held Nora's hand last week without meaning anything by it. It was impossible to find a response that didn't sound like betrayal, and she didn't want to say anything that might come across as cruel.
They sat in silence after that, feeling the soda in her hand suddenly turn way too sweet. The sunset looked too pretty for a moment like this.
Then there was Autumn.
It happened on a Thursday when Nora was slammed with a postmodern literature paper she’d put off for too long. Swann didn't mind the change of pace, missing the easy rhythm of their trio and wanting to spend some time with just Kat and Autumn.
They met at the ranch after Kat finished helping Dylan patch up the old fence near the barn.
Autumn brought grapes and cheese, claiming the crackers were fancy even though they were definitely store-brand. Swann brought her camcorder along like she always did, though she didn't film much since the light was too harsh and the moment felt too quiet to interrupt.
The woods hummed in the background like a song only Velvet Cove remembered how to sing. They sat on the back porch of the Mikaelsen house with their feet up on the railing, holding plastic cups of iced tea that sweated in the heat.
Kat was in a good mood and seemed lighter than usual while she told a story about a tourist who tried to meditate near a wasp nest. Autumn laughed so hard she actually choked on her grape, and Swann laughed along with them, feeling her cheeks grow warm from the afternoon sun.
Then Kat stood up as Dylan’s voice drifted over from the barn, calling her name with that familiar, impatient edge.
Kat let out a small huff of a laugh and waved a hand toward the sound, mentioning that she should probably go see what the emergency was this time before Dylan came looking for her. She wandered off toward the fence line, leaving the porch feeling much quieter as soon as she was gone.
The air felt softer without her there, and the breeze picked up until the trees rustled like they were leaning in to listen. Swann glanced over and caught Autumn already looking at her, noticing how she didn’t look away this time.
Instead, Autumn set down her cup on the wooden floorboards. "Hey, Swann? Can I ask you something?"
Swann nodded. "Of course."
Autumn exhaled and kept her eyes fixed on the railing, acting like she couldn’t look directly at her. "I was just wondering... is there something going on between you and Nor?"
The question caught Swann completely off guard.
Nora did confess to her about two weeks ago, but they didn't really talk about it afterward. Swann did her best to act like nothing changed since she didn't know what to do with that confession and she didn't want to hurt anyone. She noticed how Nora was more open about her feelings lately though, so it made sense that Autumn noticed. Maybe even Kat noticed it too.
"Why'd you ask?" Swann tried to laugh it off, though her voice sounded a little too thin. "That was so out of the blue."
Autumn didn't laugh back. She just watched the sun setting behind the trees and smiled a little before turning her attention back to Swann.
"Because I like you."
A pause followed, stretching out between them.
"I just never said anything because we’re friends," Autumn said, her voice wavering. "And because you've been kind of closer to Nora recently. I didn’t know if maybe she... if you two... I don't know. It’s been eating at me though, and I figured I had to just ask."
Silence settled between them, feeling sharp and cold around the edges. Swann’s heart thudded against her ribs while she struggled to find words. She felt completely blindsided. She didn't expect this from Autumn. Hearing it now made her stomach flip because it was the exact same thing Nora said.
"I..." Swann started, then stopped.
Autumn looked up, her eyes searching Swann’s while she looked brave and trembling all at once.
"I didn’t know you felt that way," Swann whispered, feeling a sickening sense of déjà vu.
Autumn gave her a small, crooked smile. "You weren’t supposed to. That was the point."
Another pause stretched between them. Swann didn’t move. She didn’t reach for her or promise her anything. Because her mind, so stupid and stubborn, kept drifting to…Kat.
Kat returned a few minutes later, wiping her hands on her jeans and acting like she didn't notice the heavy air. Autumn didn't say another word. Swann stayed put, trying to understand her own heart before anyone else tried to offer theirs.
Later that evening, after Autumn went home, Kat and Swann sat on the split-wood fence near the edge of the ranch.
The trees began to thin out while the golden hour light poured over the fields like syrup. Kat held a bottle of water she hadn't opened yet, resting her weight heavily against the top rail as if her legs were giving out. She wore a new Riot Grrrls tee that looked a bit loose on her, making her frame look smaller under the heavy fabric.
Swann noticed how pale she looked in the fading light, figuring it was just exhaustion from the way she’d been working at the ranch all day. It made sense since the busy season was starting and Kat never really knew when to slow down.
They stayed quiet for a long time, watching the sky turn lavender while the barn cats wove between the fence posts.
"Ugh, Dylan’s basically glued to me these days," Kat said suddenly, nudging her boot against Swann’s.
Swann gave a faint smile, noticing the way Kat leaned her head back to catch the breeze. "She worries."
"She hovers," Kat corrected, rolling her eyes. "She keeps pretending she needs help with things I’ve done a hundred times. If she offers to take over one more time, I’m hiding her car keys."
"But you love her."
Kat glanced over with a reluctant smile. “Yeah. Unfortunately.”
Swann laughed softly. "Could be worse."
"She could be you," Kat said, bumping her again. "Then I’d really never get a moment alone."
The tease landed like it always did, feeling warm and familiar even with that little bit of a sharp edge. Kat had a flicker in her eyes that didn't quite reach her smile, making Swann tuck her hair behind her ear while she noticed her own fingers trembling. The wind circled through the trees and brushed strands across her face, leaving her mouth feeling dry while every word she practiced stayed stuck behind her ribs.
"I need to tell you something," Swann said at last, her voice barely rising above the sound of the rustling leaves.
Kat turned her head slowly, lifting one brow in that half-suspicious and playful way she always had when she sensed something was up.
"Ohhh... kay?" she drawled, stretching the word out like a joke while she kept her eyes steady on Swann’s face.
Swann didn't answer right away, choosing to look down and pick at a loose thread on her sleeve before she finally exhaled. "Nora," she said, keeping her eyes on the frayed thread. "She told me she likes me."
There was a long pause after that, and Kat didn't say anything or laugh or even ask her to repeat it. She just took a slow sip of her water while she kept her gaze fixed on the horizon, letting the word drop between them like a stone in water.
"She really did that, huh?" Kat asked, her voice sounding entirely too casual for how heavy the air felt.
Swann nodded. "Yeah."
Kat stayed quiet for a moment while she rolled the bottle cap in her hand, looking like she found the plastic more interesting than anything else in the world. Her profile stayed unreadable, caught between the gold light and the growing shadows.
"So...?" Kat said at last, her tone almost neutral. "What did you say?"
Swann swallowed hard, feeling her throat tighten around the words. “That I didn’t know,” she said, and even she wasn’t sure what part of that she meant more. “I thought we were just…close. I keep thinking about what I missed. What I was supposed to see. And if maybe I—”
She cut herself off with a sigh, looking out at the same treeline Kat was staring into. A squirrel darted across the fence post a few feet away, the only sound for a moment.
Swann’s heart was thudding hard, like it was trying to knock loose the thing she didn’t want to say.That she was scared. That this wasn’t the only confession she was holding.
Kat tilted her head slightly, letting the weight of her look settle over Swann like the falling dusk. It was the kind of quiet that asked more questions than it answered.
Swann hesitated with her hands folded in her lap before she added softly, "That's not all. Autumn told me the same thing. She likes me too."
Kat blinked once, her lips parting before she pressed them back together. "Both of them?" she asked, sounding surprised but without any edge.
Swann nodded slower this time, feeling the admission finally settling in her own chest. "Yeah. Autumn just told me about it earlier today." She paused and gave a small, nervous laugh. "They don't know they did the same thing. It was almost like they had the same script."
Kat let out a long breath and leaned back on her palms, staring out at the fading horizon. "Wow," she said quietly.
Swann echoed her. "Yeah."
The sun was slipping below the trees and casting a lavender-gold glow over everything, making Velvet Cove look almost unreal while the crickets began their chorus in the tall grass. They just sat in silence after that.
There had always been something in Kat that Swann couldn’t name. It was a pull or a sense of gravity. Swann didn't mean to say it, but the words slipped out anyway. They felt delicate and trembling.
"I don't know what to do," Swann finally said, her voice dropping to a barely audible whisper. Kat turned her head slightly without meeting her gaze, letting the silence stretch between them while Swann struggled with the words.
"I keep thinking... maybe it’s not about Nora. Or Autumn." Swann added. She didn't say the name hanging there between them, choosing to let it sit in the cooling air instead.
It’s you, Kat, she thought, feeling the weight of the secret pressing against her ribs. You’re the one I care about more than anything. You're the one I'm afraid to tell. You're the one I actually like.
Kat didn't say a word, letting her gaze drift down to the grass while she curled her fingers loosely into the dirt. And in that long pause, Swann began to understand things differently, feeling a hollow ache while she realized the situation she's in.
Maybe she didn't really like me that way. Maybe she never would. Or maybe she never even thought of it in the first place.
"Everyone’s in love with you, Holloway," Kat finally said, turning to look at Swann with a crooked, teasing grin. "What a tragedy."
Her voice didn't sound as light as the words pretended to be though. There was a softness and a weight to her tone, making the joke feel too carefully placed. It felt like she was hiding something behind her teeth.
Swann let out a small laugh that didn't quite reach her eyes, smiling just enough to keep the moment from shattering. She tried to convince herself that this was her chance to finally tell her, wanting to let her know how she really felt.
It’s you, Kat. It’s always been you.
But before she could say it, Kat reached for a thin, brittle stick near the fencepost. She started drawing slow, invisible circles in the earth, making tiny loops and half-moons while she avoided reaching for Swann’s hand.
And in that stillness and that gentle turning away, a flicker of self-awareness hit Swann so sharp it almost hurt.
I wish I were a little more like Autumn, Swann thought. Or like Nora. At least they had the courage to say something. At least they know how to want something out loud.
Swann’s shoulders slumped just a little as she turned back toward the field, the golden light slipping away, dipping behind the edge of the Whispering Woods like it was trying to escape the weight of all the things they weren’t saying.
What does it mean when the person you want most always looks away right when you need them to see you?
And in that long, terrible silence, that was all Swann could wonder.
The air smelled like pine and dusk and endings, making something small curl in on itself inside her chest. Swann watched the horizon where the sky started to bruise with the first hints of night until she heard the crunch of footsteps behind them.
"There you are," Dylan said, sounding breathless and half-irritated. "I’ve been calling your name for five minutes. I thought you fell in a trough or something."
Kat didn’t look up from the dirt. "I’m hiding from you."
"Well, you're bad at it," Dylan shot back, slowing down once she noticed Swann sitting there. "Hey Swann. I didn't know you were still out here."
Swann gave her a faint smile. “Yeah, didn't really have much else to do today.”
Dylan walked up and stood awkwardly at the edge of the fence. She glanced at her sister and then back at Swann, her fingers tightening around the rag in her hand.
"Seriously Kat, you need to come inside," Dylan said, her voice sounding a bit too thin. "You promised you'd rest."
Kat rolled her eyes and sat up straighter, looking annoyed. "I am resting."
"Leaning on a fence post doesn't count," Dylan muttered, sounding more tired than mean.
Kat grunted and stood up anyway, brushing her palms against her jeans. "Don't mind her," she said to Swann with a forced grin. "She thinks she's my mother now."
"I'm not," Dylan said quickly, her voice cracking slightly before she softened it. "I just... you said you were tired. You've been out here for hours and it's cold. You don't even have your jacket."
Kat gave her a long look, and something passed between them that Swann couldn't quite read. "I'm fine," she said quietly.
Dylan didn't argue, though she didn't look convinced at all. "Dinner's at the table. Come in before it gets cold."
Kat sighed and pushed herself upright, giving Swann a brief glance that didn't linger long enough to mean anything. She turned and started back toward the house without another word. Her boots crunched softly over the gravel path while her silhouette folded into the growing dusk.
Swann watched her go, feeling the distance between them. Dylan lingered beside the fence for a few seconds longer, staring down the path Kat took before she turned toward Swann.
"You coming in too?" Dylan asked, her voice dropping lower. "We have enough for another plate."
Swann hesitated and shifted her weight, looking back toward the dark line of trees at the edge of the property. "I think I'll stay out here a little longer then head back home," she said.
Dylan nodded slowly, looking like she might say something else before she swallowed the thought.
"Alright," Dylan said, clearing her throat and forcing a tight smile. "Just don't freeze out here." She turned and walked back toward the house with footsteps that were slower than they were before.
Swann didn't move. The porch light flicked on a minute later and cast a long glow across the yard, letting her hear the faint sound of the door opening and closing. She wrapped her arms around herself while the evening air curled tighter around her spine, telling herself that the strange feeling in her chest was nothing.
Days passed until the four of them sat cross-legged on a quilt spread behind Nora's garage. It was a lazy Sunday tradition they didn't manage to pull off in months, with a half-eaten box of cookies lying between them along with two chipped mugs of tea and a sketchbook. Swann's camcorder sat nearby, turned off for once.
Autumn sat closest, her shoulder brushing against Swann's while she reached for a cookie. Every time she laughed, she lingered a second too long in Swann's space. The closeness felt intentional even if it was quiet.
At some point, she reached over and snagged a stray rubber band from Swann’s wrist, looping it around her own fingers and twisting it absentmindedly.
Autumn didn't say anything, but she kept her hand resting near Swann’s on the quilt, close enough that their knuckles almost touched. Swann noticed the way Autumn's gaze dropped to their hands, then back up with a small, knowing smile. Swann didn't know what to do with that look, so she just reached for her tea and took a slow sip to keep her hands busy.
Nora was stretched out on her stomach across from them, resting her chin on her folded arms while she watched Swann with a steady and open grin. When Swann reached for the cookie box and found it empty, Nora wordlessly held out the one she just picked up.
"This one has the most chocolate," Nora said.
Swann blinked, wondering how she even knew. "How did you even—"
"I checked," Nora said, not even pretending to be subtle about it.
Autumn made a sound halfway between a scoff and a laugh. "Unbelievable."
"You’re just jealous I’m observant," Nora replied.
Autumn leaned a bit heavier into Swann’s side. "I’m just not a show-off."
"Oh please," Nora said. "You basically used her as a pillow during our last movie night."
"It was cold," Autumn muttered, though she didn't move away.
“Sure.”
They weren’t arguing, not really. It was just playful banter, but Swann felt the quiet pull from both sides anyway. She noticed the careful ways they kept offering pieces of themselves. She didn’t know how to hold all of it without breaking something or hurting anyone.
Across the blanket, Kat was watching. She didn't say much since they arrived, choosing to just listen and smile while she occasionally poked fun at Autumn’s sketching posture.
Now she was looking at Swann with a lazy and sharp grin, looking like she was in on a joke Swann didn’t know she was telling. When their eyes met, Kat raised one brow just slightly and bit back a smirk.
Swann felt her cheeks flush and tried to roll her eyes, but it came out more like a smile she couldn't hide. Kat tilted her head while she kept grinning. Poor Holloway. What a problem to have.
Swann shook her head in quiet exasperation.
Some part of her wanted to laugh because she knew that was exactly what Kat was thinking. Kat didn’t say a word, but her gaze lingered long enough to make Swann wonder if her feelings were starting to get obvious.
In that moment, with Nora smiling and Autumn pressed close, Swann understood. She wasn’t confused because both Nora and Autumn had feelings for her. She was confused because the one person she wanted to love her back was sitting five feet away, just watching.
The memory slipped away like dust in a beam of sunlight. It was soft and golden, hanging in the air just long enough to ache before it was gone.
Swann stood in the open doorway of the Mikaelsen house, her hand still resting on the heavy wood of the frame. It didn't feel like it was only a week since she saw them last, yet today felt like another lifetime.
She stepped inside and her eyes found Nora first.
Nora’s hair was fully black now. It was a fresh dye, dark enough to completely hide the red she used to keep at the tips and underneath. It suited her. She looked more mature for some reason, and the sharp contrast of the color made her features stand out more than usual.
Swann felt the urge to say something dumb, wanting to mention how Nora pulled off an all-black outfit disgustingly well, but she didn't. The words stayed stuck in her throat because the air in the house felt too heavy for jokes.
As Swann walked in, she saw Autumn sitting just beside Nora.
Autumn clutched her paper cup like it was the only thing keeping her upright. Swann sat in the space beside them, but she didn't really say anything. Even Nora, who was usually the life of the group, stayed quiet now. Swann didn't blame her. The air in the room felt heavy and still. It felt like everyone was holding their breath and waiting for someone else to start the day.
Autumn was the one who finally broke the silence, speaking up with something casual to punch a hole through the quiet before it swallowed them all.
"Have I told you guys I nearly set my portfolio on fire?" Autumn asked, sipping her coffee and looking around the room with a forced, lighthearted expression. "Don't ask how. It involves a candle, a bad Tuesday, and way too much optimism."
Swann blinked, trying to find her voice. "Are you serious?"
"Dead serious," Autumn said, though her smile didn't quite reach her eyes. "I managed to save the sketches. The smell of burnt charcoal is never going to leave my rug though."
Nora didn't laugh, but she looked over at Autumn with a ghost of a smile. She reached out and brushed a stray piece of lint off Autumn's sleeve before looking back at Swann.
"At least you didn't burn the house down," Nora said, her voice sounding lower than usual.
Autumn smiled at that, letting her expression soften for a second as she nudged Nora with her elbow. "You should tell Swann how I almost made you bald."
Swann looked at them, feeling surprised. "What? How?"
Nora let out a small huff of a laugh and shook her head. "Autumn here razored the back of my head because the red dye was being stubborn. It was a complete mess."
"Oh," Swann said, looking at the sharp and dark line of Nora's hair. "I thought you just dyed it all black to cover it up."
Nora laughed a little more this time. "The razor was faster. It was way less of a headache than trying to bleach it again." She ran a hand over the nape of her neck, feeling the short and buzzed hair where the red used to be. "Besides, I think it looks cool. It's a bit of an accidental style, but I'm leaning into it."
The three of them laughed together, the sound feeling small and fragile in the big house. It felt like they were in a little bubble, safe from whatever else was happening around them. A quiet settled between them again until the sound of footsteps approached.
It was Dylan.
"Hey," she said, looking between them. "You guys eaten yet? Mom bought some food."
Autumn just lifted her coffee cup. "I'll probably finish this first," she said.
Nora gave a small nod. "Thanks, Dylan."
Dylan just smiled, but then her gaze shifted and landed on Swann. She looked like she remembered something suddenly. “I have something for you,” she said. “It’s upstairs.”
Swann felt a small jolt of surprise. "For me?"
"Yeah," Dylan said, already turning back toward the hallway.
Swann stood up and excused herself from Autumn and Nora, following Dylan toward the stairs while her heart started to race against her ribs. When she reached the second floor, Dylan stepped out of the room just beside the railings, holding a box in her hands.
"Kat told me to give this to you," Dylan said quietly. "She asked me to make sure you get it as soon as you arrive."
Swann blinked, feeling her fingers tighten on the strap of her bag. "She did?"
Dylan nodded once. "She said you'd know what it meant."
She handed the box to Swann. It was almost the size of a shoe box, and the cardboard felt cool and a little worn under Swann's touch. Written across the lid in familiar and fast handwriting were three words, looking slightly crooked but unmistakable.
For our archives.
Swann stared at the handwriting on the box. Dylan didn't say anything else, just holding it out with a steady gaze. Swann hesitated for a second before taking it, noticing how the box felt surprisingly light in her hands.
“Whenever you’re ready,” Dylan said. “She’s in her room.”
Dylan turned away, her shoes quiet on the old floorboards as she disappeared into the hush of the house. Swann looked down at the box again, seeing her own reflection in the glossy tape and Kat's handwriting which looked like it was scribbled just yesterday.
As she looked at Kat's door just a few steps ahead, she remembered a day with her back in the spring.
The dandelions were out and the breeze moved lazily through the tall grass. They hiked up the bluff behind the Mikaelsen Ranch to where the trees thinned out and the sky stretched wide. Swann sat cross-legged on a flat rock and chewed the end of a pen while her notebook lay blank in her lap. Kat lay beside her with one arm behind her head, tossing a twig into the air and catching it like she was born bored.
"I think you're the most lovable person I've ever met," Kat said suddenly, sounding like she just realized it mid-yawn.
Swann huffed a laugh without looking up. "What?"
"I'm serious," Kat said, twisting onto her side to face her. "It's disgusting, actually. You just exist and people trip over themselves trying to confess their undying devotion."
“Oh, please. I think you’re confused.”
“It's true though,” Kat pointed the twig at her dramatically. “You’ve got that whole wistful mystery thing. People eat that up. Nora and Autumn sure did.”
Swann’s cheeks flushed. "That was... they didn't... shut up."
Kat grinned wide and her eyes crinkled. "Swann Holloway, the heartbreaker of Velvet Cove."
"Stop," Swann said, pushing Kat's shoulder gently.
Kat laughed and flopped back onto the rock. They let the silence stretch for a moment after that, feeling the easy and sun-drenched air.
Then Kat spoke again, her voice sounding quieter this time. "Someday, I want to live somewhere with a view like this."
Swann glanced over. “You already do.”
"No," Kat said. "I mean somewhere stupidly pretty. Like a cliffside cottage. I want a window and enough space for a chair. Maybe to read a book while sipping on some tea or coffee. Imagine waking up and seeing this kind of view every morning. I wouldn’t get bored of it.”
“It sure sounds nice.” Swann said quietly, imagining the scenery Kat just described.
Kat was quiet for a second before she nudged Swann's boot with her own. "You could live there too, you know. You like views and quiet. You could journal or whatever."
Swann froze for half a breath before she smiled. "You'd let me live there?"
Kat shrugged, letting her teasing tone return. "Well, someone has to refill my coffee."
They both laughed, but something stuck in Swann's chest as she watched Kat throw her head back with the sun in her hair. Kat didn't really say things like that regularly. Not seriously.
But what if she meant it?
The memory faded while Swann stood in the hallway. The weight of the box in her arms steadied her steps even as her chest fluttered with nerves. It didn't feel like only a week since she saw Kat, yet the air felt different now. It shifted in her absence and carried something she couldn't name.
Swann’s boots padded quietly against the floorboards. Each step felt measured and hesitant, like she was walking into a memory she wasn’t sure belonged to her. She passed the faded family photos lining the hallway, seeing Kat’s crooked smile captured at three, ten, and fifteen years old.
The scent hit her first as soon as she pushed the door open, bringing the smell of lemon balm and dried lavender. Beneath those notes was something distinctly Kat, carrying the scent of ink, flannel, and the faintest trace of cedar shampoo.
Kat’s room felt warm and lived-in.
A mug still sat on the windowsill with a faint lip stain on the rim, and a half-finished book rested on the nightstand with a cracked spine and a folded corner. A sweatshirt was tossed over the back of the chair, looking like she’d only stepped out for a second to grab a glass of water.
Swann’s eyes then caught on a small framed photo on the dresser, showing the four of them with their arms thrown around each other while they laughed too hard to look at the lens. Swann can't even remember when they took that one. It wasn't just the photo though. The entire room felt like it belonged to someone who was just about to walk back in.
Her gaze moved toward the corner where the furniture was shifted to make space. The bed was made with a precision that didn't fit Kat’s style, showing Dylan’s careful touch instead. Kat specifically requested to stay in her own room for this, refusing the cold and sterile rooms the funeral home offered because she wanted to be home.
Warm light filled the room.
It slipped through the thin curtains Kat always complained about, calling them too gauzy and too polite. Today they softened everything, wrapping the room in a golden hush that lingered on the edges of Swann’s coat.
And in the center of it all...was Kat.
Her hair was tousled as if she just napped through the afternoon sun, and her mouth curved soft at the corners like she was still holding onto a joke. Her skin was pale, but it was still hers, appearing freckled and familiar while the light touched her face.
Swann’s breath caught in her throat. Kat looked painfully beautiful. She didn't look like someone who just lost a battle or someone who was sick for years. She just looked like...Kat.
For one fragile moment, Swann forgot why she was there. She almost smiled, wanting to say Kat's name just to see those dark eyes look at her with a sarcastic remark. Then her gaze dropped. The truth struck with a weight that hollowed her chest.
Because Kat wasn’t standing in the light at all.
She was lying in a coffin.
They all thought she was better, believing in the good weeks and the full cheeks. The strength that crept back into her voice felt like it meant something permanent.
When her hair grew back, they believed her. When she said she was just tired from the ranch, they believed her. When she laughed and said there would be no more hospitals, they didn't ask twice. Kat never let them.
But leukemia doesn't fight fair when it comes back. It doesn't give you slow mornings or long goodbyes. It comes fast and it takes faster.
What no one knew was that Kat started disappearing in small ways. There were the canceled plans and the excuses about the ranch being too busy for her to hang out. She kept new meds disguised in vitamin bottles and smiled a little too brightly whenever someone asked if she was okay.
She told them all she was just tired and they believed her. Kat didn’t want them to worry, especially Swann.
The truth was that Kat fell in love with Swann long before she ever mentioned Nora or Autumn's confessions. It was a quiet and stubborn thing that Kat kept behind her teeth while she watched the other two chase after the girl she likes.
Kat just wanted to avoid love that came laced with sorrow. She didn't want to see flinching sympathy in anyone’s eyes, especially not from Swann. That look made her feel like a thing already half gone.
The weight of it was suffocating.
Kat spent her final months acting like a referee for a game she wanted to play herself. She did it all because she didn't want Swann to have someone to mourn, wanting her to have a friend to remember instead. She made herself loud and stayed busy, letting them all believe Dylan was just keeping her under.
And Dylan knew all along. She sat beside Kat in cold clinic rooms and heard the word terminal months ago. She promised to let Kat have this last stretch of time without being smothered in goodbyes, letting her be a person instead of a patient.
Kat didn't ever say it aloud too, but she thought about it often. She wondered what the point was in asking for forever when she only had a little time left.
So she didn't say anything, even when her legs started shaking on the stairs or when her handwriting changed. They all thought she was just tired after a long day. They thought Kat was just being Kat.
Swann missed it all.
Because when you love someone enough, you don’t look for endings. You believe what they let you see. And Kat was so good at hiding the rest.
Swann stood in the hush of Kat’s space, cradling the box tight to her chest like it might split apart if she breathed wrong. Her arms ached, but she couldn’t bring herself to let go. The warmth of the room didn’t reach her skin. It just hung there, thick and unmoving, while something inside her slowly began to sink.
It wasn’t grief yet. It was just the prelude to it, feeling like that awful weight in your bones when the body remembers something your mind refuses to say aloud.
After a while, Swann finally stepped forward toward Kat.
She couldn't bring herself to look directly at her, so she dragged a wooden chair across the floor until it rested beside the coffin instead. She noticed then that it was Kat’s writing chair, the one with the cushion worn thin. Kat always swore she’d reupholster it, though she never did.
Swann lowered herself onto it carefully, feeling like the air itself might shatter. Her gaze kept skimming past the coffin, circling around it while she hoped it might vanish if she just refused to see it. She set the box in her lap, noticing how the cardboard felt soft at the edges. It was warped from being held too long. Her fingers moved over the lid slowly and reverently, as if she were unwrapping a memory.
Inside, the scent of lavender was faint but still there. She found a ribbon she recognized from Kat’s hair, looking tangled and faded. There was a handkerchief, soft with wear, with one edge stitched clumsily from a tear Swann caused once. She always borrowed it, and Kat always let her. Tucked in a scarf Swann didn’t remember Kat ever wearing, she found a camcorder.
It was a new one. It still had the protective film over the viewfinder and a little smudge on the lens, looking like it only saw use a few times. A sticky note was folded around the grip in purple ink with slanted letters.
For my cheeky writer. I see you.
Swann let out a sound that was half laugh and half sob, pressing her hand to her mouth while she shook. She powered it on and watched the light blink red while the tape began to spin. The screen flickered through static until it reached clarity.
It was Kat.
She didn't look well, but she was still the same Kat that Swann enjoyed spending time with. She had those sharp eyes and that curled grin. She wore a ripped old band tee and a beanie pulled low over her head where her hair didn't come back right. There were new hollows in her cheeks and dark circles under her eyes, but she still looked like she was about to say something that would ruin you in the best possible way.
“Okay, Holloway,” Kat said, leaning into the frame. “If you’re watching this, congrats. You’ve officially inherited my most dramatic impulse. Don’t make fun of me or I will haunt you in the shower.”
Swann’s lips wobbled while tears streaked her cheeks. She shook her head and whispered for her to shut up, but it came out too soft to matter. Kat smiled wider as if she heard her anyway.
“Yes, I bought a camcorder. And yes, it's the same one as yours.” She paused and looked down. “I’m dying, so just to let me have this.” She looked at the camera again. She looked directly at Swann and chuckled before she continued. “Kidding... well, kind of.”
The smile faltered just a little. She leaned back in the frame and ran her fingers over the hem of her shirt, looking like she was grounding herself. The movement was achingly Kat.
“I bought this camcorder a day after you told me about Autumn and Nora,” she said. “You were so flustered, I thought you were going to burst into flames.”
“And then...you looked at me,” Kat said, her voice softer now, “like maybe I had an answer.”
Swann laughed in a wet and unsteady way. She had looked at her like that. She felt like Kat could crack the riddle of her tangled heart if she just stared hard enough.
“When you told me about how they confessed to you, I think that was the moment I realized...maybe you had better options.” Kat whispered. “Nora. Autumn. The ones with actual futures.”
Kat let out a breathy scoff. "While me? I was already halfway out the door and still too chicken-shit to tell you how much I fucking like you.”
Swann pressed her hand to her mouth. She was crying now and her shoulders shook while the tears caught on her lip.
“Thinking about it, maybe I was just…scared.” Kat said. “Scared you’d only love me because I was dying. Or that you’d only feel sorry for me. And if you told me you loved me back and didn’t mean it...I wouldn’t’ve made it through that.” she said then she reached out as if she wanted to touch the lens.
“So I kept it. I locked it down like everything else I felt too much about.”
Kat then took a shaky breath, her eyes looking glossier on the small screen as she tried to force out a laugh.
“You know, every time I teased you about Nora or Autumn, I was just trying to see if you’d look at me and say it wasn't true. I was waiting for you to tell me that I was the one you wanted. But I...didn't have the right to ask for that. Not when I was dying.”
She chuckled, but the sound faltered and broke.
Swann felt her heart shatter. The archives weren't just a record of their summer. They were a record of a girl who spent her last year of life loving someone from behind a wall of her own making.
“I almost said it that night when you told me about it. I almost added my confession to your already piled up ones...but I didn't.”
“Because I wanted you to have one last summer where I was just...your normal Kat. Not the girl who was too sick to even say what she really feels. Besides, I saw how stressed out you were with those two. I didn't really want to add to the burden.”
Kat gave a small smile though the hurt behind it was so obvious that Swann physically felt it. Then she leaned closer to the camera, her face filling the viewfinder until it felt like she in the same room with Swann.
“But I want you to know...before the silence wins.”
A beat passed, long and heavy with the sound of Kat’s ragged breathing on the tape.
“That you Swann, my iconoclast, meeting you felt like fate. I know you thought you could hide behind that camera, but I saw you. And what I found, was my soulmate.”
Kat’s voice didn’t crack, but it shifted. Softer. Like she was speaking to a version of Swann that was sitting right infront of her, not across time.
“When I met you, for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel so alone. And I didn't feel scared anymore...not of anything.”
A flicker of a smile ghosted across Kat's lips, but it didn’t last. Her eyes glistened, not just from tears, but from all the words she never got to say out loud. She exhaled shakily as if she were trying to steady herself for the last bit.
“I just wish we had more time together.”
Her jaw worked slightly, like she was holding back the tide. Then she swallowed, leaned forward an inch, and said it plainly.
“I love you.”
Her voice was steady, but her eyes shimmered.
“I think I have since the night we met.”
Kat let out a small, breathless huff.
“When we spent hours looking for Autumn’s keys because of that dickhead Corey being a jackass. I was so pissed at him and Dylan that day. But I don't regret any of it. Because that's how we met.”
Kat looked down and swallowed.
Then she looked back at the camera, direct and sure now.
“I don’t need you to say it back. That you...love me too. I just wanted you to know that I meant it. All of it. Every look. Every joke. Every stupid reason I stayed longer in our hangout spots just so I could be near you.”
She lifted something into the frame. It was a tiny raven figurine made of cheap plastic, clearly from a vending machine.
“Anyway, I was going to give you this before I croaked. Very high-end. Cost me two quarters. Dylan said it was corny, but it reminded me of you.”
Her laugh broke out then. It was her real laugh, wild and sharp and overflowing with love. She lingered on the little raven and held it up like it carried more weight than it had any right to. Then she set it aside with care as if it deserved to outlast her.
"Also, the camcorder’s yours. Use it to film something beautiful. Something stupid. Something...alive."
Kat’s eyes flicked back to the lens, letting a softer look settle in. Her voice dropped, staying steady while threading with something deeper now.
"Just don’t make it all about me, okay? I don’t want to be the saddest thing you carry."
She blinked hard, leaning closer to the camera with eyes full of everything she never had time to say in person.
"For what it’s worth, don’t go pressuring yourself to choose between Nora or Autumn," she said, letting a small and weary smile touch her lips. "I think they’re both good people. They’d be cool with whatever choice you make, honestly. You’ve even got my blessing." She chuckled a little. "Just kidding."
Just before the screen flickered to black, she added a final thought while smiling through her own tears.
"Goodbye, Swann. You were the best thing I never got to keep. I'm sorry for leaving."
The tape finally clicked and the silence returned. Swann sat frozen while her breath broke in her chest. This was Kat. She was still making her laugh while tearing her open. She was still loving her in the only way she knew how, reaching out from behind the lens and across the room. Now she was gone. She was in a place she could never come back from.
Swann stared at the blank gray square, feeling her chest cave in around the weight of everything she never said. Kat loved her fully and quietly and bravely. Now she's gone.
But she left her love behind anyway.
It was in the plastic and the ribbon. It was in the lavender and the tiny raven figurine. It lived in a voice that would never speak again, yet still knew exactly what to say. The soft hum of the camcorder went still. Kat’s voice lingered and hung in the air like dust motes in the fading light. It was still echoing and warm. It was still hers.
Swann didn’t move. Her fingers loosened around the sides of the camcorder until it slid into her lap like something forgotten. She sat motionless in the wooden chair beside the coffin, feeling her shoulders curve inward while her spine collapsed under the weight of what she now carried inside her. Her chest felt too small. Her heart started kicking at her ribs, feeling frantic and late and useless.
Then it finally hit her.
The grief tore up her throat with jagged claws while Swann curled forward and clutched her stomach, looking like she was trying to hold her entire world from leaking out. A sob broke the silence and shattered the last bit of composure she tried to keep. She let her forehead fall to her knees while she clutched Kat's scarf, noticing how it still smelled so much like her. Swann buried her face in the fabric and felt the soft wool against her skin, wishing she could rewind time right then.
She wanted to rewind time at that moment. She wanted to go back to before all this. She wanted to be there before everything became too late. Because she was.
Two days ago, just two days, Swann finally gathered the courage to tell Kat about everything. She was going to tell her how she felt. She was going to tell her how it always had been her.
But when she got to Kat's house, Dylan opened the door. Her eyes were bloodshot and her face was pale. "She’s gone, Swann," Dylan whispered. Her voice was a dry and hollow wreck.
Swann stands on the porch and feels the world tilt while the letter stays tucked in her pocket. She has the truth right there with her, ready to be given away, but it was already too late.
Now, sitting in the chair, Swann feels the crushing weight of those two days. It's such a small amount of time to lose a lifetime. The pain doesn't even come from the sickness itself.
Swann doesn't care that Kat was ill. She would've stayed. She would've sat in those sterile hospital rooms and held Kat's hand through every jagged breath. She would've loved Kat through the hair loss and the trembling and the fading strength. None of that really matters to her. She just wanted to be with Kat for as long as possible.
What tears Swann open is the realization that Kat died thinking she was alone in this. Kat recorded that tape believing her love was a one-way street. She died thinking Swann only saw her as a friend, going into that darkness without ever hearing Swann say the words back.
Swann grips the edges of the writing chair until her knuckles go white. Her chest feels like it’s being hollowed out by a dull knife while she wonders if she’ll ever forgive herself.
Not for being too slow.
Not for hesitating.
Not for assuming there would be more time.
She folds forward again and curls tighter around herself, pressing her fists to her face while her sobs come in waves. They’re choking and breathless. Each one feels more splintering than the last. It feels like her body’s trying to tear the regret from her skin and failing. She rocks with the pain and lets it ravage her.
This is the cost of waiting too long. Kat loved her, and everything’s ruined because Swann showed up two days too late.
Swann sits in the silence until her tears run dry. Her fingers clutch the edges of the denim shirt in her lap. The fabric’s damp with tears and stays warm from her skin. She blinks hard and wipes her face with her sleeve like a child. Then, slowly and painfully, she stands. Her knees wobble beneath her. Her body aches as though sorrow poured into her bones and left them to harden.
The coffin’s perfectly still. It looks beautiful even in its cruelty. There are soft white flowers tucked around the corners and Kat’s favorite records rest on the table nearby. She sees a sketch Nora drew and a dried daisy from Autumn’s garden.
Then her gaze lands on Kat.
Swann steps closer. Each footstep feels thick with time and everything she left unsaid. She stopped beside the casket and her breath catches. Kat’s face looks softer than it ever was in life. Her lashes brush her cheeks as if she’s just asleep.
Swann reaches out and lets her fingers graze the wood. "I was about to tell you," she whispers. Her voice cracks open like paper soaked in rain. "I was at the door."
She swallowed hard against the burn in her throat. "I thought we had the time." Her voice trembled but she doesn't stop.
The words come faster now. They’re desperate.
"I thought I could take my time and say the perfect thing to make it all make sense. I didn't even care if you felt the same. But you..." Her knees buckle and she steadies herself against the wood. "You didn't wait."
That hurts more than anything. She knows Kat didn't owe her that, but part of Swann still hoped for it. She leans forward and her eyes blur again.
"This camera... I'll film something worth watching. I want you to know you were the story, Kat. The whole time."
She closes her eyes and lays her forehead gently against the casket. Her tears stain the surface. They won't reach Kat this time. "I'm sorry," she whispers. This time, there’s no one left to hear it but the quiet.
The funeral ended the way most things did in Velvet Cove, under a sky too gray to make any promises. People lingered and hugged too tightly. They said things about a better place or how she'd been so loved.
Swann didn’t remember most of it.
Her ears buzzed with the weight of things she hadn't said. Her grief felt too loud for polite condolences. She didn't speak to Nora or Autumn because the pressure in her chest didn't leave room for breath, let alone conversation. When the last shovel of dirt hit the earth, she simply turned and walked.
She pushed through the trees and past the fading trail markers. She passed the mossy logs where they'd carved their initials with pocketknives and bravado. She walked into the woods where the light always bent softer, as if the sun knew how to mourn. Her boots pressed into the snow-dusted ground with slow, deliberate steps. The grief settled deep like sediment. It was heavy and it was still.
Fawn’s Rest waited where it always had.
The old cabin slouched in the clearing with one shutter hanging loose. The door creaked open like it recognized her. Inside, the air smelled of old pine and memory. Dust drifted in the light cutting through the shutters. The record player sat untouched and a half-burnt candle leaned on the windowsill. The bunk beds still wore the faded sheets they'd last laughed in.
Swann’s spot was still there in the corner. Her blanket was folded at the end and a dog-eared paperback sat open. Draped over the edge of the mattress, exactly where she’d left it, was Kat’s flannel.
It was the one with the worn elbows and the missing second button. It was the one Swann always stole and Kat always took back while she pretended not to notice.
Swann’s throat tightened. She moved toward it carefully, as if it might vanish. Her fingers brushed the sleeve. The fabric was soft and still held the faintest trace of Kat. It smelled of campfire and lavender and that hint of citrus from the shampoo Kat never admitted she liked.
In the pocket, Swann found a single wildflower. It was pressed and dry but still bright. Tucked behind it was a slip of paper folded in half. Kat’s handwriting looked jagged and familiar, just like her voice.
If I’d had more time, Swann...
I would’ve confessed my feelings too.
I would’ve told you I love you.
Swann forgot how to breathe. The words sank into her like stones. They were heavy and merciless as they pulled the air from the room. Her hands shook around the paper. The edges felt soft against her skin, but nothing about this was gentle. It was a final, jagged ending.
The cabin stayed hollow around her. The walls held the grief the way they’d once held their laughter. There was no music. There were no voices. Only the weight of absence pressed in on her.
Outside, the wind moved through the trees in a restless, low hum, as if it carried a message it couldn't quite speak. For a moment, Swann let herself believe it. She let herself believe that maybe Kat was still there in the woods or the silence. She hoped Kat was somewhere near enough to hear the words she'd been too late to say.
“I love you too, Kat.”
