Page 2 of Echoes of Us

T he scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the kitchen as Ashley stood by the counter, slicing strawberries into neat halves.

The early morning sun streamed through the windows, casting golden patches on the tiled floor, their glow broken only by a half-packed box sitting on the corner of the counter.

She brushed a hand against its open lid, the sharp folds of cardboard oddly grounding.

Moving felt like a promise–of more space, of a future filled with light and laughter–but it also came with its small ache.

Her sundress swayed lightly as she shifted her weight, the hem brushing against her knees.

It was one of her favorites–soft, simple, and practical for mornings like this.

A strand of dark hair slipped free from her bun, curling faintly at the end, and she blew it away with a quiet huff before tucking it behind her ear.

Her honey-hazel eyes flicked to the strawberries as she resumed slicing, her hands steady and precise. She hummed quietly to herself, the tune half-formed but persistent, one of those melodies that always surfaced when the house was this quiet.

“Good morning, Mrs. Westwood.”

His voice, low and warm, sent a ripple of pleasure through her.

She turned, a smile already forming on her lips.

Cole stood in the doorway, shirtless, a pair of gray sweatpants slung low on his hips.

His dark hair was deliciously mussed, and there was a softness to his sharp gray eyes that he reserved only for her.

“You’re up early,” she said, her smile widening as he crossed the kitchen in long, confident strides.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He stopped just short of her, his gaze lingering. “Someone wasn’t there to keep me company.”

Ashley shook her head, trying to ignore the way his proximity made her heart quicken. “I told you–I had a craving.”

“For strawberries,” he said, his lips twitching into a smile. “At five in the morning.”

“They’re not just for me,” she replied, gesturing to the bowl of sliced fruit. “Someone else demanded them, too.”

He followed her gaze to the slight curve of her belly, and his expression softened. “Is that so?”

Before she could answer, his hands found her waist, pulling her closer. He slid them around her, his thumb brushing against her stomach in a slow, deliberate motion.

“How’s my troublemaker doing this morning?” he murmured, his voice quieter now, more intimate.

“Already calling them a troublemaker?” Ashley teased, tilting her head to meet his eyes.

“Precautionary,” he said, his grin breaking wide. “If she’s anything like you, I’m in trouble.”

Ashley rolled her eyes, but she couldn’t stop the laugh that bubbled up. He always did this–deflected with humor, made her forget whatever she was about to say. Yet it was impossible to miss the way his hand lingered, the reverence in his touch as he caressed her stomach.

“Speaking of names,” she said, her tone turning thoughtful, “I was thinking… if it’s a boy, maybe we could name him Dale.”

The room stilled.

Cole’s hand froze mid-motion, and for a moment, she saw it–the flicker of pain that crossed his features before he masked it with a faint smile.

“I hope it’s a girl,” he said lightly, brushing a kiss against her forehead. His lips lingered for a moment too long, and then he stepped away, moving to the coffeemaker as though nothing had happened. “But we’ll see.”

Ashley watched him, her brow furrowing. “You don’t like the idea?” she asked carefully, her voice quiet.

“I didn’t say that.” He poured his coffee, keeping his back to her. “I just think it’s early to decide. We have time.”

He turned back to her with his easy, practiced smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Ashley wanted to press him, but something in his expression stopped her.

“Anyway,” Cole said, setting his mug on the counter and leaning against it. “Didn’t you promise me pancakes this morning?”

The shift was too quick, too deliberate, and it left her feeling momentarily unmoored. But she let it go, unwilling to disrupt the fragile calm between them.

“Only if you help,” she replied, matching his playful tone.

“Deal,” he said, moving to her side with a grin.

The pancakes were a mess. Cole had flipped one too early, splattering batter across the stove, and Ashley, armed with a damp towel, had insisted on cleaning it before he could.

“You’re impossible,” she said, shaking her head as she wiped batter from the counter. “How does someone with your steady hands manage to ruin pancakes?”

“And yet,” he replied, stepping behind her and sliding his hands to her hips, his voice dropping to a low murmur, “you love me anyway.”

Her breath hitched just slightly. He always managed to undo her, even in moments like these.

Later, as they sat together at the small kitchen table, Cole reached across the space between them to swipe a stray dab of syrup from the corner of her mouth. The touch was brief, almost absent-minded, but it sent an ache through her all the same.

“Do you ever think about the past?” she asked, the question slipping out before she could stop herself.

His fork paused mid-air, and for a moment, she wondered if she’d pushed too far. Then his features softened, his hand setting the fork down with quiet deliberation. “Not really,” he said finally. “I have everything I need right here.”

Ashley smiled, but her gaze lingered on his face, studying the way his eyes seemed to flicker–just for a moment–before he looked down at his plate.

* * *

The bell above the door jingled as Ashley pushed it open, the warmth of the little shop wrapping around her like a hug.

She stepped aside to let Sarah in behind her.

Sarah’s messy strawberry-blonde hair was tucked loosely into a ponytail, but a few wayward strands framed her freckled face, catching the soft glow of the overhead lights.

“I can’t believe this place still exists,” Sarah said, her deep green eyes scanning the room as she unwound her scarf. She leaned against the counter with the casual grace that came from her height, her long frame somehow looking effortlessly poised despite her slightly disheveled appearance.

“Same overpriced scoops,” Ashley added, though her lips curved into a small smile.

“Don’t act like you’re not excited,” Sarah teased. “You dragged me across town for this.”

Ashley rolled her eyes, but the faint blush in her cheeks betrayed her. “Blame the baby,” she said lightly, resting a hand on her small but growing bump. “Apparently, strawberry ice cream is non-negotiable.”

Sarah laughed, her gaze flicking to Ashley’s belly. “Right, the baby. Sure. No chance this is just you rediscovering your childhood obsession?”

Ashley smirked, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Fine, it’s both. Happy?”

“Ecstatic,” Sarah said with a grin, following Ashley toward the counter.

The sweet, sugary smell of waffle cones hung heavy in the air, and Ashley found herself breathing it in, her cravings kicking in harder than before. Not that she needed the extra push–she’d been coming to this shop since she was a kid, and her order had never changed.

Sarah nudged her playfully as they waited. “I still can’t believe you dragged me out here. This place is practically in another zip code.”

“Worth it,” Ashley replied, resting a hand on the curve of her stomach.

When their orders were ready, they carried their cones to a booth by the window. Ashley slid into her seat, smoothing her dress over her thighs. It wasn’t tight yet–her bump wasn’t quite there–but it clung in ways that reminded her how much her body was changing.

Sarah tilted her head, eyeing her. “How are you pulling this off? I swear, you look like a pregnancy ad. If I were pregnant, I’d look like I was smuggling a soccer ball under my shirt.”

“Stop,” Ashley said, laughing. “I feel more like a breadstick with a slight curve.” She took a bite of her ice cream, savoring the cool sweetness. “I’ll take the compliment, though. Who knows how much longer I’ll be able to button my jeans.”

“Breadstick?” Sarah reached for her cup, her long fingers wrapping around it with an elegance Ashley had always envied.

Even with her slightly wrinkled sweater and fraying scarf, Sarah exuded an effortless charm that made her look like she’d stepped out of a magazine–albeit one that specialized in chaos. “Maybe if that breadstick had an ass.”

Ashley rolled her eyes. “You’re impossible. I needed this, though.”

Sarah nodded, softening. “Yeah. Me too.”

For a moment, they sat in companionable silence, the hum of the shop filling the space between them.

“So,” Sarah began, leaning back in her seat. “How’s Wonder Husband? Still making the rest of us look bad?”

Ashley smiled faintly, brushing a thumb across the condensation on her cup. “He’s good. Busy. There’s a new semester coming up, so he’s been buried in lecture notes and grading. But he’s still… Cole.”

Sarah raised an eyebrow. “You’re deflecting.”

“I’m not,” Ashley protested, though her tone lacked conviction.

“You are,” Sarah said firmly, pointing her spoon at her. “I’ve known you for twenty years, Ash. Spill.”

Ashley hesitated, her fingers tightening around the edge of her napkin. “It’s about the baby’s name.”

Sarah tilted her head, her brow lifting slightly. “What about it? Please don’t tell me Cole’s lobbying for something like Galileo or Newton.”

Ashley let out a soft laugh, her shoulders easing slightly. “No, nothing like that. It’s just…” She stirred her ice cream, watching the pink swirl against the sides of the cup. “I suggested a name the other day, and his reaction surprised me.”

Sarah leaned forward slightly, her spoon poised mid-air. “What name?”

“Dale,” Ashley said quietly.

Sarah frowned, her lips pressing together as she searched her memory. Then, understanding flickered in her eyes. “Oh… his brother.”

Ashley nodded, her hand pausing mid-stir. “We don’t talk about him much, but I thought maybe it would mean something to him. Instead, he just… brushed it off. Changed the subject.”

Sarah set her spoon down, her brow furrowing. “Do you think he’s ever really dealt with it? Losing him, I mean.”

“I don’t know,” Ashley admitted, her voice thoughtful. “That’s part of why I brought it up. I see it all the time at work–when people avoid grief for too long, it doesn’t go away. It just sits there, waiting.”

“Yeah,” Sarah said softly, her gaze distant for a moment. “I’ve never heard him mention Dale, not even once. I work with the guy almost every day.”

Ashley stirred her ice cream absently. “It’s strange. Some of the friends he’s made since… they don’t even know he had a brother. It’s like that part of his life doesn’t exist anymore.”

Sarah tilted her head. “Do you think he talks about it with anyone? Like his college friends?”

Ashley blinked at the suggestion. “I don’t think so. I’ve never met any of them.”

“Seriously? None of them?”

“No,” Ashley said slowly. “And I don’t think he’s in touch with them either. I’ve overheard him on the phone a few times–probably old friends–but those calls always seem short. And he never brings them up afterward.”

Sarah rested her chin on her hand, watching Ashley closely. “What if you invited one of them over? People open up when they see someone from a different part of their life.”

Ashley hesitated, shaking her head. “That feels like crossing a line. I don’t want him to feel like I’m prying.”

“It’s not prying if you’re just creating an opportunity,” Sarah pointed out gently. “Sometimes people don’t realize they need to talk until someone gives them the space.”

Ashley let out a slow breath, her thoughts drifting. “Maybe. I just want to make sure he’s okay and that he’s really… processed it. I know how much he loves me, and I love him just as much. I just don’t want this to weigh him down forever.”

Sarah reached across the table, squeezing Ashley’s hand. “Ash, if anyone can help him, it’s you. You don’t have to have all the answers. Just keep being there for him.”

Ashley smiled faintly, warmth flickering in her chest. “Thanks, Sarah.”

As they stood to leave, Ashley’s gaze drifted to the wall near the counter, where dozens of faded photographs were pinned in uneven rows.

One image caught her attention–a pair of boys, arms draped over each other’s shoulders, their grins wide and carefree.

The sight stirred something familiar, though the faces weren’t ones she recognized.

It reminded her of the photo in their attic.

A dusty, forgotten frame buried beneath boxes of old papers and books.

Two boys, identical and yet distinct, their crooked smiles caught somewhere between mischief and innocence.

The lake behind them glittered in the sun, and she’d always wondered who had taken the picture and what the boys had been laughing at.

She’d found it while unpacking, brushing the glass clean before showing it to him.

“This would look perfect in the foyer,” she’d said, holding it up with a small smile.

Cole had taken the frame from her hands, his thumb brushing the edge of the picture. “It doesn’t really fit,” he’d said after a moment, his voice quiet.

He hadn’t elaborated, and she hadn’t pressed. The photo had been placed back in the box, where it remained.

Now, staring at the wall of smiling strangers, her chest tightened. She wasn’t sure what didn’t fit–the frame or the life he’d built, carefully arranged to keep some pieces from spilling out.

“Earth to Ashley,” Sarah called, already halfway to the door.

Ashley blinked, her thoughts scattering as she turned to follow her friend. “Coming.”

The bell jingled softly as they stepped back into the crisp evening air.