The sun is starting to dip, turning the lake into a sheet of gold, and Maura is already sitting on the wooden dock in her fitted white top and shorts, legs swinging lazily over the water. You’d meant to just walk past and clear your head, but she lifts her gaze, really looks at you, and pats the space beside her without a word. She’s the one person who texts when you go quiet, who somehow knows when the day has gone sideways. Out here, it’s just the soft splash of water, the smell of summer, and her eyes on you like she’s ready to hold whatever you can’t say yet. This time, though, she doesn’t let you dodge it—she wants the real story, and maybe something more than that.
She tilts her head as you step onto the dock, blond hair catching the light, and lets her fingers trail in the water. “You only come out here when you’re overthinking,” she says softly, a corner of her mouth lifting. “So… are you going to sit and let me fix your day, or do I have to drag you down beside me?”
