27. Ally

Chapter 27

Ally

L eaving Tom behind felt like slicing off a part of myself, but there was no other choice. I told him the truth, and if he chose to walk away, then that was his decision to make. No amount of pleading or explaining would change the outcome.

I drove aimlessly, each mile stretching the distance between us. The road blurred under my tears, but I kept moving forward. Eventually, I found myself in South Haven, a town just beyond Autumn Brooke. The south beach parking lot lay nearly deserted, offering a solitary refuge.

I stepped out of the car and inhaled deeply, the crisp air filling my lungs. Ahead, the pier jutted into Lake Michigan like a defiant finger pointing toward an uncertain horizon. Its weathered wooden planks creaked underfoot as I walked toward the lighthouse at its end.

The lighthouse stood tall and stoic against the backdrop of an overcast sky. Orange paint peeled from its sides, revealing patches of red rust beneath. It had seen better days, yet there was a timeless resilience about it that resonated with me.

Lake Michigan stretched endlessly before me, a vast expanse of deep blue interspersed with silvery ripples where the wind danced on its surface. Waves lapped gently against the pier's supports, their rhythmic motion soothing yet melancholic. The water's surface mirrored the gray clouds above, creating an almost seamless blend between sky and lake.

I leaned against the railing at the end of the pier, staring out at the boundless water. The horizon seemed to blur into nothingness, a fitting metaphor for how I felt inside—lost and adrift with no clear direction. The sound of gulls crying overhead mingled with the soft splash of waves.

Here, away from everything and everyone, I could breathe again. The ache in my chest remained, but it felt muted by the vastness surrounding me. I closed my eyes and let the wind whip through my hair, imagining it could carry away some of my pain.

For now, this place would be my sanctuary—a space where I could gather the fragments of myself and try to piece them back together.

Standing on the pier, the wind tugging at my hair; I let my thoughts drift. Months without Tom had felt like an eternity. The fight between him and Nick replayed in my mind like a bad movie, each harsh word and bitter accusation echoing endlessly. It was exhausting, the constant tug-of-war between guilt and longing.

But then, the thought of my baby pulled me back to a different kind of pain, one that was quieter but more profound. I sank to my knees on the wooden planks, clutching the cold railing for support as the first tear fell. It was like experiencing the loss all over again, fresh and raw.

"I'm so sorry," I whispered into the wind, my voice barely audible over the waves. "I'm so sorry I couldn't keep you."

The words poured out of me uncontrollably. "I wish you got to stay," I continued, my tears now flowing freely. "I love you with everything I have, okay? Even... even though you were only with me for ten days, I love you with all of my heart. I would have loved being your mother. I'm so, so sorry."

I cried until there were no tears left to shed, my body shaking with the intensity of my grief. Each sob seemed to rip through me, leaving a hollow emptiness in its wake. The wind carried away my cries, dispersing them into the vastness of Lake Michigan.

When the tears finally subsided, I sat back on my heels, feeling drained and empty. The ache in my heart was still there, a constant reminder of what I'd lost. I still didn't understand why it happened; maybe I never would. There was a fragment of me that felt forever broken, an unfinished piece that could never be replaced.

Even if I had babies in the future, this part of me would always remain undone—an eternal reminder of a love that was too brief but overwhelmingly powerful.

The lake stretched out before me, indifferent to my pain. The horizon still blurred into nothingness, but somehow it seemed less daunting now that I'd allowed myself to feel everything fully.

I wiped my face with the sleeve of my sweater, feeling the damp fabric cling to my skin. My future loomed ahead, murky and uncertain. No job, graduation in two weeks, and the tangled mess of emotions with Tom. I had no idea if he wanted anything to do with me after everything that happened.

What now?

The question echoed in my mind, relentless and unyielding. My chest ached with the weight of it all, a constant reminder of the burdens I carried. But as I stared out at the water, a voice in my head broke through the noise.

You take it one step at a time , it said. You've survived much worse than this. You'll survive again.

I took a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs before releasing it slowly. The pain didn't vanish, but it became manageable, like a familiar shadow that always lingered but didn't overwhelm.

I stood up, my legs shaky but determined. The pier seemed more stable beneath me now, the wooden planks solid and grounding. I turned to face the water once more, feeling its vastness stretch out before me.

"I'm going to make you proud," I whispered into the wind. Whether I was speaking to my lost baby or to myself, I couldn't say for sure. But the truth was, it didn't matter.

The words felt like a promise—a commitment to move forward despite the uncertainty that lay ahead. It wasn't about erasing the past or forgetting what I'd been through; it was about finding a way to honor those experiences while still carving out a future for myself.

The lake's surface shimmered under the muted sunlight, a symbol of resilience and constancy. And as I watched the waves continue their rhythmic dance, I felt a flicker of hope ignite within me.

One step at a time.

I could do that.

I turned away from the water and walked back down the pier toward my car. Each step felt like an act of defiance against the darkness that had threatened to consume me.

There would be challenges ahead—finding a new job, facing graduation without a clear plan, navigating whatever remained between Tom and me—but I was ready to face them.

As I climbed into my car and started the engine, I took one last look at Lake Michigan's expanse. It was vast and daunting but also beautiful and full of possibilities.

And so was my future.

I climbed into my car and took one last look at the lake before pulling out my phone. My hands shook as I dialed Kara’s number, my mind racing with the uncertainty of what lay ahead.

"Hello?" Kara’s voice crackled through the speaker.

"Kara, it’s me," I said, my voice wavering. "I'm calling in that favor."

There was a brief pause on the other end. "What’s going on, Ally?" she finally asked.

"I need a job," I admitted, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders just by saying it out loud.

Kara paused again, but this time it felt more like she was processing what I’d said rather than judging me. "Sure," she said. "I can help you. Want to come over?"

A smile tugged at my lips, a small but genuine relief washing over me. "Sure," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Great," Kara said. "See you soon."

I ended the call and put the car in gear, heading toward Kara’s place. For the first time in what felt like ages, I had a glimmer of hope to hold onto.

I stood in front of the mirror, my heart pounding in my chest. The reflection staring back at me seemed almost unrecognizable. The dress I wore clung to my frame, a deep emerald green that complemented my auburn hair and brought out the intensity of my eyes. It was simple yet elegant, with a sweetheart neckline and a fitted bodice that flared into a soft, flowing skirt. The fabric shimmered under the light, catching every subtle movement I made.

My hair cascaded in loose waves down my back, with a few delicate tendrils framing my face. I’d spent what felt like hours getting it just right, trying to strike a balance between looking effortlessly beautiful and feeling put together. Kara had insisted on helping me with my makeup, and I had to admit she did an amazing job. The subtle shades of gold and brown eyeshadow accentuated my eyes without being too overpowering, and the soft pink lipstick added just the right touch of color to my lips.

As I adjusted the thin straps of the dress one last time, I couldn't shake the nervous energy buzzing inside me. This was it—the first official date with Tom. After tonight, everyone would know about us. My mind raced with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Would they judge us? Would they understand?

A soft knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. "Ally? You ready?" Kara's voice filtered through the wood.

"Almost," I called back, taking one final look in the mirror.

"You look stunning," she said as she entered the room, her eyes lighting up when she saw me. "Tom's going to lose his mind."

I smiled, but it felt shaky at best. "Thanks, Kara. I needed that."

She stepped closer, giving me a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. "You're going to be great tonight. Just be yourself."

I nodded, taking a deep breath to steady myself. "Okay," I said softly.

The sound of Tom's car pulling up outside sent another wave of nerves crashing through me. This was really happening.

Kara gave me one last encouraging smile before heading to the door to let him in. My hands trembled slightly as I grabbed my clutch and headed toward the door.

As I stepped out of my room, Tom stood waiting, his eyes widening as he took in my appearance. He looked incredibly handsome in his tailored black suit and crisp white shirt.

"Wow," he breathed when he saw me, his voice filled with awe.

I felt my cheeks flush under his gaze. "Hi," I managed to say, feeling suddenly shy.

He stepped forward, offering me his arm with a warm smile. "Maybe I should tell everyone to fuck off so I can fuck you in that dress."

"Hey, I'm right here," Kara muttered.

Tom ignored her. "Ready?"

"As ready as I'll ever be," I replied, linking my arm with his and feeling a rush of warmth at the contact.

We walked out together into the cool evening air. Tom opened the car door for me, his hand resting lightly on the edge of the frame. I slid into the passenger seat, smoothing out my dress as I settled in. He closed the door with a soft click, then rounded the car to get in on his side. The engine roared to life, and we began our journey.

I couldn't stop picking at the fabric of my dress, my fingers tracing invisible lines on the shimmering green material. Every time I glanced down, my heart raced a little faster.

"You scared?" Tom asked, glancing over at me while navigating through the quiet streets.

I nodded, unable to meet his eyes. "This is a big deal," I admitted. "I don't want to let you down."

Tom's expression shifted, and without warning, he pulled over to the side of the road. The sudden stop jolted me, and I looked at him in confusion.

"Don't say that," he said in a low voice, turning to face me fully.

"What?" I asked, feeling a knot form in my stomach.

He reached for my hand, his grip firm yet comforting. "Don't fucking think you could ever let me down," he said seriously, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that took my breath away.

I stared back at him, feeling the weight of his words sink in.

"Whatever happens," he continued, his voice unwavering. "You're it for me. You're mine. Got it? Don't fucking worry."

For the first time in what felt like forever, I actually believed him. The sincerity in his gaze and the strength in his words wrapped around me like a warm embrace. I nodded slowly, squeezing his hand back.

"Got it," I whispered.

Tom's lips curved into a small smile before he leaned over and kissed my forehead gently.

He slowly pulled back, his forehead resting against mine for a brief, tender moment. His hand slid to the back of my head, fingers threading through my hair with a gentle yet possessive grip. My breath caught in my throat as he tilted my head slightly, his eyes darkening with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

Then he pulled me in for a kiss—deep, sensual, and all-consuming. The world outside the car seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of us suspended in this moment. His lips were warm and soft against mine, moving with a deliberate slowness that made every second stretch into eternity. It was a kiss that spoke volumes—of longing, of desire, and of something deeper that neither of us dared to name.

I melted into him, my hands finding their way to his shoulders for support. His other hand cupped my cheek, thumb brushing gently against my skin as if trying to memorize every detail. The sensation of his touch sent sparks of electricity through me, igniting a fire that had been smoldering for far too long.

As the kiss deepened, our breaths mingled and our movements became more urgent. My fingers curled into the fabric of his suit jacket, holding on as if he were my anchor in a stormy sea. His tongue brushed against mine, coaxing a soft moan from my lips that only seemed to fuel the intensity between us.

Every kiss I'd shared before this moment paled in comparison. This wasn't just physical—it was emotional, raw, and unrestrained. It was as if we were both pouring all our unspoken words and hidden feelings into this single act, hoping it would be enough to bridge the chasm between us.

Eventually, we broke apart, both of us breathing heavily. My heart pounded in my chest like a drum, echoing the tumultuous emotions swirling inside me.

"Tom," I whispered, barely able to find my voice.

His eyes met mine, filled with a tenderness that made my heart ache in the best way possible. "Yeah?"

I opened my mouth to speak, but found myself at a loss for words. How could I possibly articulate everything I was feeling right now? Instead, I just smiled softly and leaned in to press another gentle kiss to his lips.

He chuckled softly against my mouth before pulling back slightly. "Let's get going," he said quietly.

Nodding in agreement, I settled back into my seat as Tom started the car again and resumed our journey.