Chapter Five: The One Who Stayed
1280 Words
POV: Aubrie
The night air tasted like dirt and thunder.
Aubrie leaned against the barn, knees pulled to her chest, a cigarette burning low between her fingers. She didn’t smoke—not really—but sometimes she needed something to burn just so it wouldn’t be her.
The world smelled like rain coming, sharp and electric, mixing with the sweet, damp scent of grass. The barn creaked with the shifting breeze, like it was sighing along with her.
Footsteps crunched over gravel, slow, familiar. She didn’t look up.
“Thought you quit those,” Pip said, sliding down beside her, wiping grease off his hands with a rag that smelled like oil and metal.
“I never started,” she muttered. “Stealing from Ben’s drawer. Old habit.”
Pip’s boots scraped against the dirt as he settled in, arms resting on his knees. The quiet between them felt different now, heavier, as if the storm was pressing in on all of Mill Creek.
“You okay?” he asked.
“Fine.”
“You look like hell.”
“Thanks.”
He waited, letting the quiet stretch. The wind shifted, rattling the tin roof above them.
“You want to tell me why you’re sitting out here alone at midnight, acting like the sky did you dirty?” Pip finally asked, voice softer.
Aubrie’s jaw clenched. She saw Vera’s tear-streaked face in the kitchen, Emmett’s hand reaching for hers, the soft look in his eyes that Aubrie had only ever seen in her dreams.
“I think I made a mistake,” she whispered.
Pip frowned. “Like, existentially?”
Aubrie let out a humorless laugh, the sound catching in her throat. “Like, I thought I knew where I stood with him.”
“Emmett,” Pip said quietly.
She nodded, blinking hard against the sting in her eyes. “You think you know someone, and then… someone else walks back into the room, and it’s like you were never there at all.”
Pip didn’t say anything, but his hand found her shoulder, warm, steady. She leaned into it, just for a breath.
Flashback – Five Years Ago
The county fair smelled like funnel cakes and spilled beer.
They were seventeen, sunburned and reckless. Emmett had won a cheap bottle of bourbon throwing darts at balloons, flashing that crooked smile that made Aubrie’s stomach flip.
“Show-off,” she’d teased.
He just laughed and grabbed her hand, pulling her toward the dance floor where a country band played slow, sweet, sad songs about leaving and staying.
She tried to pull back. “I don’t dance, Emmett.”
“I know,” he’d said, slipping an arm around her waist, pulling her close anyway. “But you look pretty when you’re not thinking so hard.”
The lights had blurred, the world had spun, and for a moment, she let herself believe she could have this—him, a small life, the quiet promise of belonging.
That was the moment.
The moment she realized she’d spend the rest of her life trying not to love him.
Back in the Present
Aubrie stubbed out the cigarette, wiping her face roughly before standing. The wind tugged at her shirt, carrying the promise of rain.
“Screw it,” she muttered.
“Aubrie—” Pip started, but she was already walking.
Carter Farm – The Back Porch
Emmett was splitting wood, each swing of the axe sharp, precise, a thunderous echo in the heavy air. The scent of cut wood mixed with the humid wind, the world holding its breath.
Aubrie didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate. She grabbed his wrist mid-swing, the axe halting inches from the chopping block.
“Jesus, Aubrie,” he said, lowering the axe, frustration flashing across his face. “What the hell?”
“No,” she snapped, eyes bright. “You don’t get to act confused.”
“What are you talking about?” His voice was cautious, defensive.
“The way you looked at her,” Aubrie said, stepping closer, the wind lifting her hair. “Like she’s the first damn thing you’ve ever felt.”
Emmett set the axe down carefully, wiping his palms on his jeans. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?” Her voice cracked. “You don’t get to treat me like furniture for ten years, then get soft-eyed over a girl who left.”
“She’s been through hell.”
“We’ve all been through hell, Emmett!”
Thunder cracked, rolling across the fields, the first drops of rain hitting the dry dirt, darkening it.
Aubrie laughed bitterly, blinking against the rain. “Do you even know I’ve been in love with you since we were kids?”
Silence.
“Aubrie…” he began, but the words were useless, empty.
“Don’t,” she whispered. “Don’t say something nice to make it worse.”
“I never meant to—”
“I know,” she said, tears mixing with the rain. “That’s the problem. You never meant to. But I meant everything.”
She stepped back, the storm swirling around her, the porch lights flickering as the wind howled.
He watched her go, speechless, as the storm finally broke over the fields.
POV: Emmett
Rain hit the earth in heavy sheets, washing the dust from the leaves, the scent of wet grass rising sharp and clean.
Emmett stood there, soaked, the axe at his feet, thunder cracking overhead.
I meant everything.
The words echoed in his mind, louder than the storm, louder than his own breath.
Aubrie had always been there—laughing at his stupid jokes, patching the holes in the roof, dragging him back from the edge when he didn’t even realize he was slipping. She had loved him with a quiet fierceness he hadn’t earned.
And Vera…
Vera was the storm. She was the reason his heart beat faster, the reason he felt alive, the reason he wanted to be better, even if he didn’t know how.
He didn’t know how to hold both truths at once. He didn’t know how to be the man either of them deserved.
The rain poured harder, soaking him to the bone, plastering his hair to his forehead. He closed his eyes, letting it wash over him, wishing it could wash away the guilt, the confusion, the weight he carried in his chest.
He had been running all his life—from the farm, from responsibility, from the fear of becoming like his father, working himself to death for a patch of land that didn’t care who owned it.
And now, he was tired of running.
He picked up the axe, set it against the porch post, and wiped the rain from his eyes.
Inside, the lights flickered, thunder rumbling close, shaking the walls. The storm was here, and there was no running from it.
I’m not leaving, he thought, gripping the door handle.
Not this time.
POV: Vera
From the guest room window, Vera watched the storm break over Mill Creek, lightning illuminating the fields in white flashes.
She pressed a hand to the glass, feeling the cold seep into her skin, grounding her.
The storm was loud, but it was nothing compared to the storm inside her.
She had come back for herself, to find something worth staying for, to see if the land could be kind, like her mother had hoped.
And she saw Emmett, standing in the rain, head bowed, and she knew the storm had found him too.
She turned away from the window, moving toward the door.
Because the storm was here.
And she was ready to face it.
- Writer
