Page 28 of The Last Five Yards

Maren looks down at the very familiar cup, her name written on it with a heart beside it. She smiles softly and looks back up at Reese. “What if I wasn’t here?”

“Then I guess I would have two cups of coffee. You know how much fun I can be with that much caffeine.” Reese teases her with a grin. “I guess you couldn’t sleep either?”

Maren shakes her head. “Sleep has not been my friend lately.”

“I figured I’d come and see it one more time before we go,” Reese says, nodding toward the water. “I told Mom I was coming to say goodbye to my shark. She has been pacing the kitchen since last night, worried about the flight.”

Maren huffs a quiet laugh. “She always worries.”

“Well, your mom is a mega fan. My mom is a mega worrier,” Reese replies. “It seems they even balance each other, huh?”

They stand side by side, their breath visible in the cool air. The sunrise is slow, still hiding behind a curtain of clouds, the light turning the mist above the waves a soft pink. Neither of them speak. The only sounds are the gulls calling overhead and the water lapping against the sand.

Reese glances sideways. “Feels weird, doesn’t it? Like it’s all ending, but also not really.”

Maren bends down, picks up a flat rock, and skips it across the lake. “Yeah. Feels like something’s also starting, but I don’t know what.”

Reese takes a sip of her coffee and hums softly. “I’ll miss this.”

Maren finally looks at her. “The lake?”

Reese’s smile is small and tired. “Yeah. That too.”

For a moment, everything feels still. The sun lifts higher, breaking through the clouds in soft streaks that stretch across the lake. The light glows gold on the water, warming the sand, and in that moment, it feels like the world has stopped moving.

Reese tilts her head back, watching the sky change color. “I always forget how fast it happens,” she says. “One minute it is dark, and then suddenly, everything looks different.”

Maren studies her profile, the way the sunlight brushes across her cheek. “It doesn’t feel that fast when you are waiting for it,” she says softly.

Reese lowers her gaze. “You know, you sound like my grandmother.”

“Was she smart?”

“The smartest.”

They both laugh, and the sound blends with the waves. Then the quiet returns, gentle but charged.

Reese takes a deep, slow breath, the kind that sounds like a decision being made. She steps closer, close enough that Maren can feel her warmth. For a long moment, neither of them moves. The lake whispers beside them.

When Reese finally reaches out, her hand brushes against Maren’s sleeve, a small, hesitant touch. Maren doesn’t pull away. Reese leans in and kisses her. It’s soft, almost questioning, like she is afraid the moment might shatter if she presses too hard. The world narrows to the taste of coffee, the scent of cucumber melon in Reese’s hair, and the sound of water sliding up against the sand.

When she pulls back, her eyes stay on Maren’s. “I guess I should go,” her voice barely whispers. “I don’t need Mom to pace a hole in the floor.”

Maren nods. She cannot find the words.

Reese gives a small smile, one that feels like it is meant to last. Then she turns and walks up the path. About halfway up, she stops and turns around. Maren straightens a little.

“If you see my shark, will you tell her I said goodbye?” Reese calls.

Maren just shakes her head and smiles.

She watches until Reese is out of sight, the sound of her footsteps fading into the wind. The waves keep moving. The sun keeps rising.

Maren stays by the water long after Reese is gone. The lake glows under the night light, pale gold rippling on the surface. The waves roll in slow and even, brushing over the sand and pulling back with a soft hiss.

She sinks down onto the ground, wrapping her arms around her knees. The air still smells like coffee and morning. Every time the wind shifts, it carries a faint trace of cucumber melon, that sweetness that always seems to follow Reese.

She stares at the horizon, where the sun is still climbing in the east, and lets her mind wander. The silence here has never bothered her. If anything, it is the only kind that makes sense. The rhythm of the water fills all the space where words should go.