HOME, SWEET, HOME
• 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐖𝐍 𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐒 𝐱 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐄!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑
SUMMARY — When your best friend is practically family, you sign up for the good, the bad, and the completely ridiculous. You're their rock, their reality check, their safe place—no matter what. But nothing tests that bond quite like getting a wedding invitation... with your ex-fling on the guest list. That's the situation when Ella, your lifelong best friend, drops a letter that changes everything.
WARNING! FLUFF. Suggestive Langauge.
AUTHOR'S NOTE! Okay, I was watching You Again recently and got the idea for this. It was supposed to be a oneshot but now it's going to be a one shot series about complicated love—my speciality— also says you what you want Shawn but no one can deny how angelic handsome he is. Enjoy your reading✨🫶🏽
BEING A best friend comes with lot of responsibilities. You're supposed to be the constant in their life—the person they can rely on when things go south. You're the one who has their back no matter what, the voice of reason when they're being reckless, the shield when they need protection, and the soft landing when the world gets too rough. You love them unconditionally, even when they make decisions that make you want to scream, like inviting your ex-fling to their wedding.
That's the situation you found yourself in when you received a letter from your lifelong best friend, Ella. You and Ella had been inseparable since birth, thanks to your mothers, who had been best friends long before either of you existed. Ella's letter wasn't just any letter—it was an invitation to her wedding with Jake, her high school sweetheart and now fiancé.
You were thrilled for her. Of course you were going—how could you not? You and Ella had been planning her wedding since third grade, dreaming up elaborate ceremonies with glittering dresses, fairy-tale settings, and, of course, each other standing side by side on the big day. It wasn't just her wedding; it felt like a culmination of all the years of friendship, all the secrets and dreams you'd shared.
But everything shifted when you were on the phone with Ella, packing for the wedding weekend, and she casually mentioned that Shawn Mendes would be attending.
Shawn Mendes. The name alone was enough to stir up a whirlwind of emotions you thought you'd buried long ago. Shawn wasn't just anyone—he was your first love. Or rather, your first heartbreak. Back in high school, you and Shawn had been something between boyfriends and flings, caught in a fiery but fragile relationship that burned out almost as quickly as it ignited. Shawn wasn't ready to take your relationship public, and when the pressure became too much, he said things—hurtful, cutting things—that tore you apart.
The breakup wasn't just messy for the two of you; it splintered your entire friend group. Sides were taken, words were exchanged, and bridges were burned. The fallout was something you'd spent years trying to recover from. Shawn was a part of your past, and that's exactly where you'd left him—or so you thought.
It wasn't that you still had feelings for him. That heartbreak had been years ago, and time had dulled the edges of the pain. You'd moved on—or at least you'd told yourself you had. After all, you'd built an incredible life for yourself. You were a well-known singer and actor now, living a life most people could only dream of. But when it came to relationships, you hadn't let anyone else in since Shawn. The fear of being broken again, of giving someone your heart only to have it crushed, had kept you from even trying.
When Ella told you Shawn would be at the wedding, you didn't say anything. It wasn't your place. It was her day, not yours, and she had every right to invite whoever she wanted. Shawn's presence didn't change why you were going—you were there to celebrate your best friend and the love of her life. Nothing else mattered.
But as you zipped up your suitcase, you couldn't help the pang of anxiety settling in your chest. You'd spent years avoiding Shawn, carefully sidestepping any chance of running into him. Now, you were about to walk straight into a weekend where you couldn't avoid him.
This was Ella's wedding, though, and you weren't going to let your past get in the way of her happiness. You'd be there for her, just as you always had been. Even if it meant facing the one person who had once shattered your heart.
THE RUSTY ANCHOR—an unassuming dive bar tucked between the edge of town and the shore—had witnessed more of your teenage years than even your own bedroom. Its cracked vinyl booths still carried the faint, mingled scents of spilled whiskey and cheap wood polish. The air buzzed with the low hum of conversations and the raspy vocals of some classic rock anthem spinning endlessly on the aging jukebox. It was the kind of place that hadn't changed in decades, and for a brief moment, stepping inside felt like walking into a time capsule of your youth.
At the far end of the long, battered wooden table, you sat apart from the lively group, fingers idly tracing patterns around the rim of your untouched drink. The condensation from the glass left faint circles on the tabletop, joining countless others worn into the wood over the years. Your script, the one for the upcoming cameo role you'd agreed to, lay open on the table in front of you. The scene was supposed to be a simple one, but you weren't about to show up unprepared—not after the career you'd built.
The others, on the other hand, had fully surrendered to the nostalgia of the moment. Ella and Jake, the happy couple, sat pressed together in the middle of the group, their hands intertwined as they smiled at one another with that warm, unshakable kind of love that made you believe in fairy tales for just a second. Matt and Lexie had everyone laughing as they reenacted a cringeworthy high school moment, throwing in exaggerated voices and gestures to drive the point home. Sophie and Nate were huddled in the corner, fumbling hopelessly with a phone tripod as they tried to set it up for the perfect group selfie. The bar's dim lighting and aged decor weren't exactly Instagram-worthy, but they weren't about to let that stop them.
And then there was you—half there, half somewhere else, lost between the words on your script and the growing knot of unease in your stomach. It wasn't that you didn't want to be here; you did, for Ella's sake. But the anticipation of Shawn's arrival hung over you like a storm cloud, looming just out of sight but impossible to ignore.
Everyone was waiting for him. Ella had mentioned that Shawn was running late—traffic, she'd said—but you weren't sure if it was his timing or your own nerves making the minutes feel like hours. You hadn't seen him in years, and yet, here you were, waiting for him in the same bar where it had all started. You told yourself it was fine, that you were fine. You'd come here to celebrate Ella and Jake, not to dredge up the past.
But as you flipped the page of your script, scanning the dialogue that now seemed distant and unimportant, you felt the old ghosts of the Rusty Anchor stirring. You'd shared so many nights here with Shawn—late-night talks, stolen moments, the thrill of something secret and unspoken. And eventually, the heartbreak.
You took a deep breath, focusing back on the group. The others didn't seem to notice your distraction, which you were grateful for. You couldn't let them see the crack in your carefully maintained composure. Ella and Jake's laughter echoed across the table, a reminder of why you were really here. Whatever was about to happen when Shawn finally walked through that door, you'd face it—like you always did.
Matt, ever the observant one despite his antics, finally caught on to your silence. He leaned back in his chair, his beer in hand, and shot a pointed look in Ella's direction. With a subtle nudge of his elbow, he silently conveyed what you already knew was coming. Ella straightened up slightly, her expression shifting from carefree joy to quiet concern. She turned toward you, leaning closer so her voice wouldn't carry over the others' laughter.
"You good?" she asked, her tone soft, laced with the kind of concern that only years of friendship could convey.
You met her gaze briefly, then looked back down at the script in front of you. The pages blurred slightly, not from the dim light of the bar but from the weight of her question—and the unspoken one that hung between you. You knew what she was really asking.
"Fine," you replied, your voice even, betraying nothing. It wasn't a lie, not entirely. You weren't on the verge of breaking down or anything, but "fine" was easier than trying to unpack the knot of emotions twisting in your chest. Ella studied you for a moment longer, her lips pressing into a thin line as though deciding whether to push the matter.
The others were still caught up in their own worlds—Matt and Lexie's exaggerated reenactment had escalated into a full-blown performance, complete with dramatic gestures, and Sophie had just knocked over the phone tripod, prompting Nate's exasperated groan. The noise and chaos of the group gave you and Ella a small bubble of privacy, but you could tell she wasn't going to let this go entirely.
She tilted her head slightly, her voice barely above a whisper now. "You know you can talk to me, right? If...you need to?"
You swallowed hard and gave her a small, reassuring smile. "I know," you said, and you meant it. Ella had always been your anchor, the one person who'd seen you through every storm. But this wasn't her storm to weather—it was yours. And you weren't ready to open the floodgates just yet.
She hesitated for a moment longer, her eyes searching yours as if trying to read the words you weren't saying. Then, with a quiet sigh, she nodded and leaned back into her seat, giving you the space she knew you needed.
Still, the weight of her concern lingered, a reminder that she knew you better than you often gave her credit for. You turned back to your script, forcing yourself to focus on the dialogue. But as the minutes ticked by, the anticipation in your chest only grew heavier. Somewhere in the back of your mind, you were already preparing for the moment the door would open and Shawn would walk in.
Suddenly, The bell above the door jingled again, its cheerful chime cutting through the ambient noise of laughter and music. You didn't look up immediately, but you felt the subtle shift in the group before you heard the footsteps. They were slow, hesitant, as though the person walking in wasn't entirely sure they were welcome.
That voice. Warm, richer now with age but still carrying the same undertone of quiet charm that had once been your undoing. Shawn Mendes.
You finally looked up, your stomach tightening instinctively. There he was, standing just a few feet away, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of a well-worn leather jacket that looked as though it had seen as many years as the bar itself. His dark hair was slightly tousled, as if he'd been running his hands through it nervously on the way over.
He looked good. You hated that you noticed.
Shawn's gaze swept over the group, his soft brown eyes flicking from face to face as he offered a small, tentative smile. Matt was the first to respond, raising his beer in greeting with a loud, "Shawn! Took you long enough, man!" That broke the ice, and the others chimed in with similar greetings, inviting him into the fold as though no time had passed.
But Shawn's eyes didn't linger on Matt or Lexie or Sophie. No, they found you—and stayed there, longer than you were prepared for. It wasn't a casual glance. His expression shifted slightly, a flicker of something you couldn't quite place—nostalgia, maybe, or regret. Whatever it was, it sent a jolt of unease through you.
You held his gaze for a moment, refusing to look away first, even though your pulse quickened. The years between you hadn't erased the memory of that look—the way it had once been filled with something softer, something deeper. But now, it was a reminder of everything that had gone wrong.
"Hey," he said again, quieter this time, almost as if it was meant just for you. Then, as if realizing he'd been staring, he quickly dropped his eyes and slid into the open seat across from you.
Ella, ever the hostess, leaned forward with a bright smile, immediately steering the conversation toward familiar, safe topics to ease the tension. The others followed her lead, peppering Shawn with questions about what he'd been up to, where he was living, whether he was still writing music.
You stayed silent, your fingers tightening slightly around the edge of your script. You didn't trust yourself to speak—not yet. Not when your mind was racing with a thousand emotions you weren't ready to unpack. So, you let the others fill the space, their chatter buzzing around you like white noise.
But Shawn's presence was impossible to ignore. Even as you kept your eyes on the words in front of you, you could feel his attention drifting back to you, tentative but persistent, like he was waiting for some kind of opening. You weren't sure if you wanted to give him one.
The night suddenly felt heavier, the weight of the past pressing down on you in a way you hadn't anticipated. It was going to be a long evening.
"Good to see everyone," Shawn said, his voice warm but laced with an edge of caution. "It's been... a while."
The group immediately erupted into small talk, eager to fill him in on everything he'd missed. Matt launched into a story about his new job, Lexie joked about her disastrous attempts at online dating, and Sophie managed to pull Shawn into a quick selfie for her ever-growing collection. The chatter was lively, easy, as though everyone had effortlessly fallen back into their old rhythm.
You kept quiet, your hands clenched tightly under the table where no one could see. Shawn's gaze drifted to you more than once—you could feel it—but you kept your eyes fixed on the script in front of you, pretending to study the pages with far more intensity than they warranted.
And Shawn noticed. You could feel the weight of his attention growing heavier, like he was waiting for the right moment.
That moment came during a lull, the conversation dipping into a rare silence as everyone caught their breath. Shawn cleared his throat, and the sound sent a ripple through the table.
"Hey..." His voice was low, hesitant, but it cut through the quiet. His eyes were on you, the rest of the group suddenly forgotten. "Can we talk?"
The question hung in the air, and the table collectively stilled. Your friends, so loud and animated just moments ago, now found their drinks, the table, and the far corners of the bar incredibly fascinating.
You didn't look up. Your fingers tightened around the edge of the table, and you forced yourself to sound indifferent. "Nothing to talk about," you said with a shrug, your tone flat, dismissive.
Shawn flinched, just barely, but it was enough for you to notice. The others exchanged quick, awkward glances, as if debating whether to intervene or pretend they hadn't heard anything. Ella shifted uncomfortably in her seat, but she didn't say a word.
Shawn leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on the table as he tried again. "I think there is," he said, quieter this time. There was a rawness in his voice now, a vulnerability that caught you off guard.
You finally looked up, your eyes meeting his for the first time that night. The tension between you was almost palpable, the weight of unresolved history pressing down on both of you. For a moment, no one at the table breathed, waiting to see what you would do.
But instead of answering, you pushed your chair back, the legs scraping against the worn floorboards. "I'm going to get some air," you muttered, standing up before anyone could stop you.
As you walked away, you could feel Shawn's eyes on your back, but you didn't turn around. The familiar scent of the bar faded as you stepped outside into the cool night air, the door closing behind you with a hollow thud.
For a few seconds, you just stood there, breathing deeply, trying to push down the mix of anger, sadness, and something dangerously close to longing that his presence had stirred up. You weren't ready for this—not here, not now.
The cool night air was a relief against your skin, though it did little to calm the storm inside you. You leaned against the wall of the bar, staring out at the empty parking lot, your arms crossed tightly across your chest. The muffled sounds of laughter and music filtered through the door behind you, a reminder that the rest of the world was still spinning, even if yours felt like it had tilted on its axis.
The door creaked open, and for a moment, you tensed, expecting him. But instead, you heard the familiar shuffle of boots and the soft clearing of a throat.
"Mind if I join you?" Ella's voice was gentle, cautious, as though she were approaching a wounded animal. You didn't answer, but you didn't stop her either, and that was all the permission she needed. She stepped out fully, the door shutting softly behind her, and slid down to sit beside you on the curb.
For a while, neither of you spoke. She didn't push, didn't bombard you with questions or platitudes. She just sat there, her presence steady and grounding, letting the silence work its way through you both.
Finally, she broke it. "You want to tell me what's going on?" Her tone was careful but insistent, the way only Ella could manage—enough to remind you she wasn't going anywhere, but not so much that you felt forced to answer.
You exhaled sharply, your breath visible in the chilly air. "It's nothing," you said, though the tightness in your voice betrayed you.
Ella let out a soft laugh, dry but not unkind. "You really think I'm buying that?"
You glanced at her, her face partially lit by the warm glow of the bar's neon sign. She was watching you with that look—the one that had been the undoing of every lie you'd ever tried to tell her. Her expression was equal parts patient and stubborn, and you knew there was no sidestepping this conversation.
You ran a hand through your hair, letting out a frustrated sigh. "I don't know, El. It's... Shawn." His name felt heavy on your tongue, and saying it aloud made everything feel more real.
Ella nodded, her expression softening. "I figured," she said simply. "I saw the way you went quiet as soon as he walked in."
You turned away, staring at the cracked pavement beneath your feet. "I wasn't ready for this," you admitted quietly. "Seeing him again. Hearing his voice. It's like..." You trailed off, searching for the words, but they didn't come.
"Like it ripped open something you thought was healed?" she finished for you.
You looked at her, surprised by how perfectly she'd nailed it. She smiled faintly, shrugging. "I've been there, you know. Different person, different situation, but I get it."
A bitter laugh escaped you. "I thought I was over it. Over him. It's been years, El. I've moved on... or at least I thought I had."
"Moving on doesn't mean forgetting," she said gently. "Or that it stops mattering. You loved him, even if it was messy and complicated. And he hurt you. Of course it's going to feel like this."
You leaned back, resting your head against the cold brick wall. "I just... I don't know what he wants. Why he's here."
Ella tilted her head, studying you. "Maybe he just wants to talk. To make things right."
You scoffed. "It's a little late for that."
"Maybe," she agreed. "But maybe it's not. Either way, you don't have to figure it all out tonight. Just... give yourself some grace, okay? You don't have to have all the answers right now."
For the first time since stepping outside, you let yourself relax, even if only slightly. Ella reached over, giving your hand a quick squeeze. "Whatever happens, I've got your back. You know that, right?"
"Yeah," you said softly. "I know."
You exhaled slowly, letting the weight of the moment settle before you turned to Ella. Her concern was genuine, her presence comforting, but it wasn't what you wanted to focus on right now. You gave her a small, grateful smile before speaking.
"Ella," you began softly, "this weekend isn't about me. Or Shawn. It's about you and Jake. Your wedding, your union, everything you've worked for together. I don't want to be the one dragging old feelings and unresolved drama into that."
She frowned, tilting her head. "You're not dragging anything in. I can see how much this is affecting you, and I just want to make sure—"
"I'm fine," you interrupted gently, holding her gaze. "Really, I am. I came here for you, for Jake, to celebrate what you two have. That's all that matters to me. Whatever's going on with Shawn... it's in the past. I'm not going to let it overshadow your moment."
Ella sighed, her brow furrowed with worry, but there was also a flicker of relief in her expression. "You sure? Because you don't have to bottle everything up just for my sake, you know. If you need to step away, if you need to take time for yourself—"
"Ella," you said, cutting her off with a soft laugh. "I love you, but this isn't the time for that. You and Jake have waited so long for this weekend, and I'm not about to be the one who makes it about something else. I'm here to support you, to stand by your side. That's all I want."
Her lips pressed together, her eyes searching yours for any cracks in your resolve. "You always do that," she said after a moment.
"Put yourself last. Sacrifice what you're feeling for everyone else." She reached over, resting a hand on your arm. "I know you're here for me, and I love you for it. But don't think for a second that I'm going to let you drown in this just to keep a smile on my face. I know you, and I know when something's eating at you."
You sighed, leaning back against the wall again. "It's not that simple, Ella. What am I supposed to do? Have some emotional heart-to-heart with Shawn in the middle of your wedding festivities? That's not going to happen."
"I'm not saying you have to," she said, her voice calm but firm. "But don't ignore how you feel either. This isn't about giving him anything—it's about giving yourself some closure, even if it's just for your own peace of mind."
You didn't respond right away, staring out at the dark parking lot. After a moment, you gave her a half-smile. "I'll think about it. But only after you and Jake are officially hitched and I'm three drinks into the reception."
Ella laughed, the sound light and familiar, breaking the tension in the air. "Fair enough," she said. Then her expression softened, and she leaned her head against your shoulder. "You've always been there for me. I just want to make sure I'm there for you too."
"You are," you said, your voice steady. "You always are."
After a few more moments of quiet outside, you stood up, brushing off your jeans and offering Ella a hand. She took it, squeezing it gently before the two of you headed back inside. The warmth and noise of The Rusty Anchor hit you as soon as you opened the door—laughter, the low hum of the jukebox, and the familiar din of your friend group already several drinks deep.
You slid back into your seat at the table, Ella following close behind. The others didn't seem to notice your brief absence, caught up in their conversation. Shawn's eyes flicked toward you briefly, but you didn't return the glance. Instead, you focused on Ella, who leaned forward to get everyone's attention.
"Alright, guys," she began, her voice raised slightly to cut through the noise. Jake grinned beside her, clearly in on whatever announcement she was about to make. "So, Jake and I were talking, and we figured it's been forever since all of us got to spend some real time together. And with the wedding coming up, we thought... why not?"
The group fell silent, everyone looking at her with a mix of curiosity and excitement.
"So," Jake added, taking over, "we booked a cabin for the week leading up to the wedding. It's big enough for all of us, and we thought it'd be a great way to reconnect—hang out, relive old times, and, you know, just relax before the big day."
The announcement was met with a chorus of reactions—cheers, laughter, and a few surprised exclamations. Lexie clapped her hands together. "Are you serious? A whole week together? That's amazing!"
"Wait," Matt said, his brow furrowed. "This isn't one of those creepy cabins in the middle of nowhere where we get picked off by a horror movie villain, right?"
"Absolutely not," Ella said with a grin. "It's a gorgeous place by the lake. Full amenities, big kitchen, tons of space. It's perfect."
Sophie let out an excited squeal. "Oh my God, I can't wait! This is going to be so much fun!"
Nate, ever the practical one, raised an eyebrow. "What about work? I mean, some of us have—"
Jake waved him off. "We planned this ages ago and checked with everyone's schedules. Plus, it's not mandatory. But we'd love it if you came."
The group's energy was electric now, everyone talking over each other with plans and excitement. You stayed quiet, processing the news. A whole week together. With Ella and Jake, with the others. With Shawn.
Ella caught your eye, giving you a look that said it'll be fine. She knew what you were thinking, and she wasn't going to let you back out.
"So," Ella said, her smile widening as she looked around the table, "what do you guys think? Are you in?"
The unanimous response was a resounding yes. Even you, despite your hesitation, nodded along. This was Ella's time, and you'd promised yourself you'd be here for her. Whatever came next, you'd deal with it. Together.
THE DRIVE up to the secluded cabin had been both long and strangely nostalgic, each twist and turn of the road pulling you further from the noise of everyday life and deeper into a landscape that felt like a postcard. The forest, dense with towering pines, seemed to close in around the winding road, while the sunlight filtering through the trees created dappled patterns on the asphalt. Every so often, the view would break open to reveal a pristine mountain lake, its surface shimmering like glass under the soft afternoon sun.
The convoy of three cars navigated the final stretch together, gravel crunching under tires as you pulled into the wide driveway one by one. The sight that greeted you was enough to make the long drive worth it. The cabin stood tall and inviting, its rustic log exterior blending seamlessly with the natural surroundings. A wide wrap-around porch wrapped around the structure, adorned with cozy rocking chairs and lanterns that were already glowing softly against the early evening sky.
Beyond the cabin, the lake stretched out in serene stillness, its surface kissed by a thin layer of mist that drifted lazily across the water. The evergreens lining the shore swayed gently in the cool breeze, their reflection rippling faintly in the water. It was quiet, except for the occasional call of a bird or the faint rustle of leaves in the wind—a kind of peace you hadn't realized you needed until you arrived.
Everyone began climbing out of their cars, stretching and letting out exaggerated groans after the long drive. Bags were retrieved from trunks, and the air quickly filled with the sounds of chatter and laughter as the group took in their surroundings.
"This place is incredible," Sophie said, spinning in a slow circle to take it all in. "I feel like we're in a movie or something."
"Right?" Lexie agreed, already snapping pictures with her phone. "We're totally living our best lives this week."
Matt, ever practical, eyed the cabin with a playful grin. "Are we sure this isn't one of those places where we all get picked off one by one? Because I'm pretty sure I saw this exact setup in a horror movie once."
Ella rolled her eyes, laughing as she looped her arm through Jake's. "Relax, Matt. The scariest thing here is probably going to be Lexie's attempts at making s'mores."
"Hey!" Lexie shot back, grinning. "My s'mores are legendary."
You smiled faintly at the banter, your eyes scanning the cabin and its surroundings. It was beautiful, no doubt about it, and it did feel like the perfect place to reconnect. But there was an underlying tension you couldn't quite shake—one that had nothing to do with the cabin or the lake.
Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Shawn unloading his bag from the backseat of his car. He seemed to hesitate for a moment, glancing toward the group as if gauging whether to join in the chatter. When his eyes briefly met yours, he gave a small, tentative smile. You didn't return it, turning your attention back to the others instead.
"Alright, everyone," Jake called out, clapping his hands together. "Let's get settled in. Ella and I claimed the master bedroom—obviously—but the rest of you can fight over the other rooms."
"First come, first serve!" Matt shouted, grabbing his bag and bolting toward the cabin, Lexie hot on his heels.
The others followed, laughing and calling out dibs as they disappeared through the front door. You hung back for a moment, taking one last look at the lake and breathing in the crisp, pine-scented air.
"It's going to be a good week," Ella said quietly, stepping up beside you. Her voice was calm, reassuring, as if she could sense the hesitation still lingering in you.
You nodded, giving her a small smile. "Yeah," you said softly, "it will be."
Together, you headed toward the cabin, ready to see what the week—and whatever it brought—had in store.
The cabin's interior was even more breathtaking than its exterior. Wide wooden beams stretched across the vaulted ceiling, giving the living room an open, airy feel. A massive stone fireplace dominated one wall, its hearth flanked by built-in bookshelves filled with worn novels and board games. Oversized couches, draped with soft plaid blankets, were arranged in a semi-circle near the fireplace, clearly designed for late-night conversations and fireside gatherings.
The floor-to-ceiling windows were the real showstopper, offering an unobstructed view of the lake. The fading sunlight painted the water in hues of gold and orange, and the mist that lingered earlier had lifted just enough to reveal the treetops on the opposite shore. It was the kind of view that made you want to sit and watch it for hours.
"Okay!" Ella's voice broke through the awed silence. She clapped her hands together, a wide grin on her face. "Claim your rooms now before Lexie steals the best one."
"I resent that!" Lexie called out, already halfway up the staircase with her bag in hand.
The group burst into laughter as everyone scattered, suitcases thudding up and down the stairs and along the wooden floors. There was no real system—just a lot of playful shouts of "Dibs!" and exaggerated protests as people jostled for the best spots.
You stayed back, letting the chaos unfold without you. It wasn't that you didn't care where you stayed—you just didn't have the energy to argue about it. After a few minutes, the noise upstairs settled down as everyone staked their claims. Finally, you grabbed your bag and headed up the stairs, finding a room at the very end of the hall.
It was smaller than some of the others but no less charming. A sturdy wooden bed with a thick quilt sat against one wall, and a large window overlooked the forest. The room was quiet and private, the kind of space that let you breathe a little easier. You dropped your bag at the foot of the bed and walked over to the window, peering out at the dense line of trees. The fading light filtered through the branches, casting long shadows on the ground.
It wasn't the lake view, but you didn't mind. The forest felt secluded, calm—a contrast to the energy buzzing through the rest of the cabin. You let out a slow breath, feeling some of the tension from the day ease away.
Downstairs, the sound of laughter and footsteps echoed faintly. You could hear Sophie's voice carrying over the others, probably trying to organize some kind of group activity, and Matt cracking one of his signature terrible jokes. For a moment, you considered staying in your room and avoiding the inevitable awkwardness of being in the same space as Shawn for the rest of the evening.
But then you heard Ella call your name from the living room, her voice light and full of excitement. You sighed, shaking your head with a small smile. This week was for her, for Jake, for all of you to reconnect as friends.
With one last glance at the forest, you turned and headed downstairs, bracing yourself for whatever the night had in store.
BY NIGHTFALL, the group had migrated outside, where a roaring fire crackled in the stone fire pit just beyond the cabin's porch. The flames cast flickering shadows on the surrounding trees, their golden light reaching up to the star-filled sky. Embers popped and danced as they floated upward, disappearing into the crisp night air. The faint scent of pine mingled with the smokiness of the fire, grounding you in the peaceful stillness of the forest.
Blankets were draped over shoulders as the group settled in around the fire, the cozy scene punctuated by bursts of laughter and the clinking of bottles from the cooler someone had dragged out. Sophie and Nate were huddled near the edge of the fire pit, attempting to make s'mores. Sophie let out a loud laugh as she accidentally set her marshmallow ablaze, the charred black blob dangling precariously from her skewer.
"Why does this always happen to me?" she groaned, trying to blow it out without much success.
"Because you refuse to rotate it slowly," Nate said, grinning as he expertly toasted his own marshmallow to a perfect golden brown. "Patience is a virtue."
"Patience is boring," Sophie shot back, finally extinguishing the flames. She plopped the ruined marshmallow onto a graham cracker anyway, earning another laugh from Nate.
On the opposite side of the fire, Matt was midway through recounting an elaborate story about a disastrous hiking trip from years ago. His voice grew louder with each detail, his hands flying in exaggerated gestures as he described the "near-death" experience.
"I'm telling you, the bear was this close," he said, stretching his arms wide for emphasis.
"It was a raccoon, Matt," Lexie interjected dryly, her face lit with mock intensity as she leaned forward. "And you were hiding behind a tree screaming while the rest of us dealt with it."
The group erupted into laughter, even Matt, who dramatically rolled his eyes. "Details, Lexie. Nobody cares about the details."
You sat quietly on one of the large wooden logs circling the fire, a half-finished beer in your hand. The warmth of the flames pressed against your skin, contrasting with the cool night air. You tilted your head back to look at the stars, which seemed impossibly bright out here, far from the city lights. For a moment, you let yourself relax, tuning out the chatter and letting the fire's crackle fill your mind.
But you couldn't entirely ignore the presence of Shawn, sitting across the fire from you. He wasn't saying much, mostly listening and occasionally laughing along with the others. Every now and then, his gaze would flicker to you, lingering for just a moment too long before he looked away. You tried not to notice, tried not to let it bother you. But it did.
Ella, sitting beside you, leaned over and bumped your shoulder lightly. "You okay?" she asked softly, her voice low enough that the others couldn't hear.
You nodded, giving her a small smile. "Yeah," you said, and for now, it wasn't entirely a lie.
As the night deepened, the fire burned lower, the flames licking lazily at the logs. The hum of conversation and laughter had softened, but the energy of the group still buzzed in the cool air. You were focused on the glow of the embers, letting the warmth lull you into a momentary calm, when you felt it: the unmistakable weight of someone sitting down beside you.
He didn't speak right away, just stretched his legs out toward the fire and rested his hands on his knees, the movement casual yet deliberate. The orange firelight danced across his face, accentuating the sharp curve of his jaw and the faint stubble that shadowed his chin. He looked different, older, but in a way that made him even more disarming.
"Mind if I sit?" he finally asked, his voice low, though he was already seated.
You shrugged, your voice cool. "It's a free country."
A quiet moment stretched between you, filled only by the crackling of the fire and the sounds of your friends laughing and talking a few feet away. You kept your eyes on the flames, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking at him.
"You've been...quiet," he said, his tone soft but probing, his gaze still fixed on the fire.
"Just taking it all in," you replied, keeping your voice even. You weren't sure if it was entirely true, but it was easier than admitting the truth—that his presence was making it harder to think straight.
He nodded, rubbing his hands together against the chill. "It's weird being back together like this. Good, but... weird."
You hummed in vague agreement, still not looking at him. The air between you felt heavy, dense with unspoken words.
Shawn shifted slightly closer, lowering his voice so only you could hear. "I didn't think you'd come."
That made you turn to him, your expression guarded, a faint edge to your voice. "Really? To my best friend’s wedding? The wedding that’s we’ve planning since third grade?”
His gaze faltered, his confidence cracking just slightly under your words. "I know. I just..." He hesitated, his voice softer now. "I'm glad you did."
Before you could muster a response, Matt's booming voice shattered the tension: "Alright, truth or dare time! We're doing this old-school, no backing out."
A groan rippled through the group, Sophie rolling her eyes dramatically. But the rest of your friends cheered, shifting eagerly into a circle around the fire, blankets and drinks in hand.
Matt pointed at you first, his grin mischievous. "You're up. Truth or dare?"
All eyes turned to you, the firelight catching their amused, expectant faces. But it was Shawn's gaze that lingered the heaviest, his expression unreadable but his attention unmistakable.
You swallowed, feeling the weight of the moment pressing down on you. "...Truth," you finally said, your voice steady despite the knot in your chest.
Matt's grin widened, his excitement palpable. "What's something you regret not saying to someone from our past?"
The group erupted into playful groans and teasing "Oooohs," their laughter filling the space. But you didn't hear them clearly; all you could focus on was Shawn. His gaze locked onto yours across the fire, not with judgment, but with something closer to curiosity—or maybe hope.
The fire crackled, the moment stretching endlessly.
You kept your expression cool, your voice even as you finally answered. "I don't believe in regrets."
The group collectively booed your non-answer, Matt groaning in mock frustration. "Lame! That's such a cop-out."
But he let it slide, moving on to his next target with exaggerated flair, and the energy of the circle quickly shifted back to laughter and playful dares.
Shawn, though, didn't move. He stayed beside you, his lips quirking into the faintest, almost imperceptible smile. It wasn't smug or knowing, but there was something in it that made your stomach flip—a quiet acknowledgment, a shared understanding that the conversation between you was far from over.
THE NIGHT went on, but the fire between you and Shawn wasn't the only one that refused to burn out. The past, it seemed, had found its way back to the present.
The wooden deck groaned softly as Shawn shifted his weight, leaning further against the porch railing. The crisp night air was a stark contrast to the warmth and noise inside, and for a moment, he allowed himself to focus on the stars overhead. They stretched endlessly across the black sky, impossibly clear and bright, a view he hadn't appreciated in far too long. In the distance, the faint shimmer of the lake was barely visible, a mirror reflecting the night.
The sliding glass door behind him clicked softly, followed by the sound of familiar footsteps. Shawn didn't turn around, but when Matt stepped up to the railing beside him, a small smile tugged at his lips.
"Needed some air," Matt said, raising his whiskey tumbler as if to toast the night. The amber liquid caught the warm glow of the porch lantern. "It's loud in there."
Shawn nodded, taking a sip from his beer. "Yeah... They're already three drinks ahead of us."
Matt chuckled, leaning against the railing. "Sophie's halfway to starting a karaoke competition. We've got about ten minutes before it gets really embarrassing."
They shared a quiet laugh, the kind that comes easily between old friends. The muffled sounds of music and laughter spilled faintly from the cabin's windows, a backdrop to the peaceful stillness of the night outside.
Matt tilted his head back, his gaze tracing the constellations overhead. "You forget how clear the stars are out here," he murmured. "Living in the city, it's just buildings and streetlights. This feels... different."
Shawn exhaled slowly, his eyes drifting toward the lake, its dark silhouette barely visible against the horizon. "Yeah," he said, his voice quieter now. "I missed this."
A pause stretched between them, comfortable but weighted, the kind of silence where unspoken thoughts hovered just out of reach. Finally, Matt broke it, his tone softer this time. "So... How's life been? I mean, really."
Shawn hesitated, the question hanging in the air. He shrugged, setting his beer down on the railing with a dull clink. "Busy. Music, touring... all of it kind of blurs together after a while." He paused, his expression shifting, the faintest shadow crossing his face. "It's good, though. I'm lucky."
Matt turned his head slightly, studying him. "You don't sound like you believe that."
A dry laugh escaped Shawn, low and almost self-deprecating. "It's not that," he said, running a hand through his hair. "I just—sometimes it feels like... I'm always moving, you know? Like if I stop for too long, everything catches up."
Matt nodded, swirling the whiskey in his glass, the soft clink of ice punctuating the moment. "I get that," he said quietly. "Life comes at you fast, and you think if you stay busy enough, you can outrun the stuff that hurts."
Shawn glanced at him, something vulnerable flickering in his expression, and then he looked back out at the dark expanse of trees. "Yeah," he said simply. "Exactly."
For a while, neither of them spoke, letting the stillness of the night wrap around them. The soft hum of music and laughter from inside the cabin continued, a reminder of the world they'd stepped away from. But out here, under the stars, with the cool air biting gently at their skin, it was easy to feel like time had slowed, just for a moment.
Matt broke the silence again, his voice thoughtful. "You think maybe... it's time to stop running?"
Shawn didn't answer right away. Instead, he picked up his beer and took another sip, his gaze still fixed on the horizon. "I don't know," he admitted finally. "Maybe. I just... don't know how."
Matt let that hang in the air, neither agreeing nor pressing further. He simply nodded, tipping his glass toward the stars before taking a long sip of whiskey.
Inside, the music swelled, and a loud cheer erupted, likely signaling the start of Sophie's infamous karaoke showdown.
Matt broke the silence first, his voice low but deliberate. "Have you talked to him yet?"
Shawn tensed, the question cutting through the quiet night. He didn't turn his head, his gaze locked on the dark expanse of the lake. "Not really," he admitted after a pause. "He's been..." He hesitated, searching for the right word. "...distant."
Matt let out a soft, humorless laugh. "Can you blame him?"
Shawn flinched at the words but didn't argue. The truth in them was undeniable, and it settled in his chest like a weight.
Matt leaned back against the railing, his tone shifting to something softer. "You really hurt him, man."
"I know," Shawn said, his voice barely above a whisper. There was a rawness to it, a crack in his carefully composed exterior. "I didn't mean to. I just... I was scared. Scared of what people would think, of what it would change. Of what it would make me."
Matt turned to look at him, his expression both sharp and understanding. "It changed everything anyway."
The words hit hard, and Shawn nodded slowly, his shoulders sagging under a weight he had been carrying for far too long. "I thought I was protecting him... protecting us. But I wasn't. I was just protecting myself."
Matt sighed, folding his arms across his chest. "You know he loved you, right? More than he ever admitted... even when it all fell apart."
Shawn's grip tightened around the neck of his beer bottle, his gaze dropping to the worn wooden planks beneath his boots. "Do you think it's too late?"
Matt studied him, his expression unreadable as he considered the question. Finally, he spoke, his voice steady. "I think... you only get so many chances in life. But if you're waiting for the perfect moment to fix this, it's never gonna come. You've gotta decide if he's worth the risk."
Shawn nodded faintly, his jaw tightening as he swallowed hard. "I don't know if he even wants to hear me out," he murmured, more to himself than to Matt.
Matt's lips quirked into a faint smirk. "You won't know unless you try. But if you're going to do it, you can't half-ass it this time. No secrets. No excuses. He deserves better than that."
Shawn's gaze lifted, following the faint ripples of the lake under the starlight. The reflection of the stars on the water seemed endless, like a horizon he couldn't quite reach. His fingers flexed around the beer bottle as the memories—both good and bad—flooded his mind.
After a long pause, his voice broke the stillness. It was quiet, but resolute. "I'm not scared anymore."
Matt clapped him on the shoulder, a firm but encouraging gesture. "Good," he said, his voice lighter but still sincere. "Just... be ready to fight for it. He's not gonna make it easy."
The faint strains of Sophie's slightly off-key karaoke performance drifted through the air, prompting a small laugh from both of them.
"Looks like Sophie's in full diva mode," Matt said with a grin. "We should head back before she forces us to do a duet."
Shawn smiled faintly, but his feet remained rooted to the spot. "You go ahead. I'll be in soon."
Matt nodded, understanding that Shawn needed a moment. He stepped back inside, the sliding glass door clicking softly behind him.
Shawn stayed where he was, staring out at the lake, his thoughts swirling like the rippling water. He let the cool night air wash over him, steadying his breath, his mind turning over what he'd just said.
It felt like a declaration, one he hadn't realized he was ready to make until now. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't too late after all.
