39. Aubrey

39

Aubrey

Morning sunlight spills across my desk, but even its cheerful glow can't quite lift the weight off my chest. I tap away at my laptop, but my thoughts keep drifting back to last night's drama.

Luke is on the floor, arranging his toy cars in a meticulous line. He looks up with those big, hopeful eyes. "Mommy, can we play with Pokey later?"

"Maybe later, honey," I reply, forcing a smile. Right now, my head is a tornado of worry and paperwork.

Luke seems satisfied with that and turns back to his cars, leaving me to my swirling thoughts. Last night... was something else. I keep replaying Sean's panicked look, the way he locked himself away. It shook me more than I want to admit. Was this a one-off, or is this what PTSD looks like up close and personal?

I sip my coffee, the warmth little comfort against the chill of uncertainty. Sean’s always been Mr. Strong, Mr. Confident. Seeing him unravel like that... it’s unsettling. And now, he’s agreed to see a therapist. That’s good, right? It shows he’s willing to work on things. But it also hammers home just how serious this all is.

The phone buzzes—a reminder for a meeting I set up for Sean, part of the ongoing project to spruce up his image. It feels trivial now, almost laughable in the shadow of real issues like potential PTSD. But life goes on, and so must the PR work.

I glance at Luke, who's now making car noises, blissfully unaware of the grown-up storms around him. That's my boy, finding joy no matter the weather. And it hits me—we're doing this for him too. Sean needs to be whole, not just for me, but for Luke.

“Okay, work,” I pep-talk myself, tapping at the keys with renewed vigor. “Let’s do this.” But in the back of my mind, I know I’ll be watching Sean closely.

I punch in Savannah’s number. The line clicks, and her voice, ever the calm in my storm, comes through. “Hey, Sav, got a minute?”

“Always for you, babe. What’s up?” Her tone is light, but I can hear the undercurrent of concern.

I pace a little, the words tumbling out. “It’s Sean. There was an incident last night... he kind of, um, pushed me out of bed during a nightmare.”

There’s a sharp intake of breath on the other end. “Is everything okay? Are you hurt?”

“No, no, I’m fine,” I rush to assure her. “It wasn’t on purpose. He was asleep, reliving the attack from years ago. It was... intense.”

“Sounds like it,” Savannah’s voice softens. “Has he thought about talking to someone? Like a therapist?”

“That’s just it, I convinced him to see one. But,” I pause, biting my lip, “Sav, it scared me. Not just for him, but us—what if it happens again?”

“Hey, it’s okay to feel shaken by this. Have you thought about seeing someone too? Just to unpack all this?”

I stop pacing, considering. “Maybe I should. This whole thing’s got me more rattled than I want to admit.”

“It might help. Plus, it’s setting a good example for Sean—showing that it’s okay to seek help.”

“You’re right,” I admit, a sense of relief washing over me as I make the decision. “I’ll look into it.”

We chat a few more minutes, Savannah offering her usual blend of sage advice and warm encouragement. After we hang up, I feel a bit more grounded, ready to take the next step.

I grab my laptop and search for therapists in Cedar Creek. I find a well-reviewed practice that has different specialists in the same building. Perfect. I dial the number and set up appointments for Sean and myself with separate therapists but coordinate the timing so we can go together.

“Okay, done and done,” I murmur to myself after confirming everything. I lean back in my chair, letting out a long breath. It’s one small step for our mental health, but it feels like a leap for our family’s future.

Luke’s laughter floats in from the other room, a sweet reminder of why all this effort is worth it. I smile, my heart a little lighter.

***

The afternoon is pure small-town charm as Emma, Luke, Violet, and I stroll through Cedar Creek's Park, soaking in the sunshine. Our ice cream stop is the cherry on top of a perfect outing—when a truck rumbles to a stop at the hardware store.

Emma’s breath catches, and a hint of a smile flickers across her face before she quickly suppresses it. "Oh, great."

I follow her gaze to see Carter Davidson climbing out, looking less like his usual arrogant self. Her eyes linger a moment too long on him, and when he looks up, there’s a flicker of something unspoken between them.

"Emma," he nods, his voice softer than I’ve ever heard from a Davidson. "You look lovely today." His gaze lingers just a little too long as he adds, "Mrs. Ice. Kids."

"Carter." Emma’s tone has an edge that’s new, yet there’s a slight tremor betraying her usual confidence.

Luke waves his dripping cone. "Look at my ice cream!"

"Looks good, buddy." Carter’s eyes drift back to Emma, his gaze lingering a beat too long, as if caught by something he hadn’t expected. "Dad's looking for—" He stops, clears his throat. "Never mind. See you around."

I watch Emma’s face as he disappears into the store, noting her flushed cheeks and the way her fingers play with the edge of her cone, as if grounding herself. A too-casual shrug doesn’t quite hide the spark that’s unmistakably there.

Wait, is there something between Emma and Carter? The question nags at me, impossible to ignore.

"Since when does Cedar Creek Hardware stock anything a Davidson would want?" she mutters, focusing too intently on wiping Luke's face.

Through the hardware store window, I spot James Davidson at the counter, blueprints spread wide. The mayor leans in, nodding enthusiastically.

"Third meeting this week," mutters Mrs. Chen from the flower shop next door, watering her window display. "Mayor's practically salivating over their projections. Five hundred jobs, they're promising. But you know what happens to small towns when casinos move in?" She meets my eyes. "They stop being small towns."

Emma's shoulders tense. "Dad says they've already bought three farms south of us."

"The Hendersons sold?" My stomach drops. The Hendersons have owned that land longer than the Ices.

Emma nods grimly. "Daddy says once they get enough surrounding land, they can pressure the zoning board. Make it impossible for us to keep operating as a ranch."

The reality hits me hard - this isn't just about a casino. It's about systematically dismantling everything the Ices have built.

As we turn to head back home, the scene in front of the cigar shop makes me choke. There's Yasmine, in a full-on embrace with Buck Winston. They part like teenagers caught by the principal.

Buck, sporting a grin that screams 'caught red-handed but still playing cool,' gives me a cheeky wink before sauntering into the cigar shop, clearly leaving us to hash it out.

"Yasmine," I say, my voice dripping with disbelief, "this is a new low, even for you. Making out with Buck one minute, trying to seduce Sean the next? What's the game here?"

Her smirk falters, replaced by a defiant tilt of her chin. “Aubrey, you have no idea—”

“Save it,” I cut her off with a wave of my hand, my tone as frosty as the scoop of vanilla I just devoured. “It’s unattractive and, quite frankly, a little psycho. Knock it off.”

She scoffs, eyeing me with a mix of irritation and something that might be respect. “We’ll see,” she mutters, but the edge in her voice can’t mask the slight shake in her confidence.

The air suddenly shifts with the arrival of Annie White stepping out of the nearby florist. She spots us and sizes up the situation right away, not missing a beat.

"Yasmine, darling," Annie starts, a playful but stern edge to her tone, "if you don't put a lid on this little soap opera, I might just have to mention to Buck how cozy you were with his son, Travis, at the bar the other night."

Yasmine’s face pinches like she’s swallowed something sour. With a sharp hiss, she pivots on her heel and storms into the cigar shop, no doubt to find refuge or maybe just another audience.

Annie turns to me, shaking her head as if to clear the distaste. "That girl," she sighs, "Buck’s the type who likes his arm candy young and eye-catching, always has. Treats them like queens too, which only feeds their appetite."

I nod, absorbing her words. "Sounds like a classic gold digger scenario to me," I comment, concern threading through my voice. "I just can't figure out what she's really after."

Annie pats my arm, a knowing look in her eyes. "Whatever it is, it won't be good for anyone but her. Just watch your back, dear, and Sean's too. Characters like her, they stir up trouble for sport."

The seriousness of the situation weighs on me as Annie saunters off, leaving me to ponder just how deep Yasmine's scheming might go.