Page 1

Chapter 1

Lillian

I snap my book shut and press it against my burning face, as if that will somehow cool me down.

Spoiler alert: it won’t.

Of all the things I expected when I cracked open a monster romance, blushing like a teenager buying condoms for prom night was not one of them. But here I am, sitting in a cheap plastic lawn chair, thighs pressed together, feeling things I haven’t felt in… well, let’s just say I’m gonna need to schedule my battery-operated boyfriend some overtime.

I exhale slowly, sneaking a glance at my best friend beside me, hoping she doesn’t notice the heat crawling up my neck. Maybe choosing this book to read in the middle of a girls’ trip wasn’t my brightest idea.

But after three years of nothing but solo adventures and cheesy Harlequin romances? I needed a little… inspiration. I just didn’t expect it to claw its way under my skin quite like this.

Ha. Claw. Monster smut. I stifle a giggle and set the book down on my lap.

Tiffany looks up from her Kindle in the beach chair beside me. She raises an eyebrow at me.

“You’re finished already?”

“What can I say? I’m a fast reader.” I reach down into the sand next to me for my tiki drink. “I should have brought a couple more paperbacks. That was my last one.”

“Or you should just take the plunge and get an e-reader,” Tiffany says. “Seriously, Lillian, the way you read? You’ll save so much money.”

I shake my head. “Nope. Sorry. I like the feel of the paper in my hands. The smell of that mass-market wood pulp.” I breathe in deep and stretch, rolling my shoulders back and raising my arms above my head. My tankini bottoms roll down, again , and I tug the waistband back above my belly button. “Ugh, I hate these things. What am I going to do for the next two days without any more books, though? That was my last one.”

“Dean could drive us into town for karaoke,” she pipes up eagerly. I flatten my gaze at her. “Or you know, maybe we just cut this vacation short and go somewhere else for the rest of the week. Dean can drive us around the midwest. Make it a road trip. See some new sights.”

I snort, and gesture with a hand out at the gorgeous lakeside view. Off in the distance, a small embankment shrouded in tropical-looking sumac trees sparkles in the setting sun.

Every year, the weekend after Labor Day, Tiff and I rent the same cabin on the same private beach of Lake Superior in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan, miles away from anything that might bother us, for a girls’ trip. We load up the car with booze and mixers, snack foods and staples for taco nights, and escape to our perfect little lakeside oasis in the middle of nowhere. It might as well be the beach, for how huge the lake is, only the water is fresh and clean and there are no other tourists to bother us.

But this year, it feels like Tiffany would rather be anywhere but our traditional lakeside retreat. And I’m not sure how to take that.

Because this is the last one we’ll ever have.

Tiffany sips her passion fruit seltzer, hand resting lazily on her small baby bump. She’s now comfortably in the second trimester of her first pregnancy, and we’re taking full advantage of the last bit of freedom she has to enjoy a vacation before having a baby to take care of. Or at least, that was the plan.

When we were preparing for the trip, it felt like there was something she was holding back. She didn’t seem nearly as excited for the getaway as I was. I haven’t had this much time with my best friend in months, and I’ve been missing her something crazy. It was important to me that we have the chance to spend some time together before the baby comes.

But her fiancé, Dean, refused to let us go by ourselves. And, despite the fact that the two of us have been coming here every year for a decade and never had any issues, he insisted on tagging along. And Tiffany took his side.

Oh sure, he tried to play innocent.

“I won’t crash the cabin! I’ll bring my own tent. You won’t even know I’m there.”

Yeah, right. That little fantasy collapsed the second Tiff and I tucked into bed for the first night, and she snuck out to get freaky with him on the beach.

“Tiffany…” I sigh. This has to be the fifth time she brought up leaving the beach today. I’ve lost track of how many times she’s mentioned it since we left Chicago. “This is our last girls’ trip together before you become a mother. The lake is our place. Why do you keep trying to convince me to leave early? It almost feels like Dean wants you to sabotage it.”

“We’re not trying to sabotage it!” She sits up, rubbing her arms. “This has nothing to do with Dean. Maybe I’m just a little more sensitive to temperature with all the hormones in my system. It feels colder than usual, and I just don’t like sitting out on the beach all exposed.”

“Are you sure that’s all it is? You’ve been acting weird ever since we started planning for this last hurrah. Are you okay? Are you sick?”

“I’m totally fine.”

Unease swirls in my gut. If she isn’t unwell, then what’s the problem?

“You know you can tell me if something’s wrong.”

She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, before opening them and meeting my eyes. “I know. Trust me, I’m okay. I haven’t even gotten queasy in weeks!”

“Then why won’t you get in the water?”

Seriously. We’ve been here three days; I’ve been swimming six times already. Whereas she hasn’t even gotten a toe wet.

“I told you already, I’m cold. A big chilly lake just doesn’t seem appealing to me right now.” She rubs a hand on her exposed stomach. Even four months pregnant, she looks better in a bikini than I ever have (or will). “Why don’t we go into town to grab a bite to eat? I’m craving a big, greasy burger from the Yooper Diner.”

I roll my eyes, but I’m hiding a smile. “You and your pregnancy cravings.”

“Better than morning sickness!” Tiff laughs. “Those first three months were awful.”

“I can’t imagine…”

I can, though. She knows I can. It’s been harder than I want to admit, watching her soldier through all of the ups and downs of this milestone of womanhood. With Dean.

Given our history, I thought she might want me to be with her to celebrate all of the little landmarks along the way. I’ve tried to let her know I’m there for her. But she keeps pulling away from me, and I can’t help but feel like she doesn’t want me to be part of the next chapter of her life.

And look, Dean’s a great guy. Truly. A real peach. Caring, affectionate–literally everything she deserves and more. Dean is absolutely head-over heels for Tiffany, and she for him. The way they look at each other is pure magic, like everything I’ve read in my romance novels.

The thing that my novels don’t cover, though, is what happens to the heroine’s best friend after she gets her happy ending.

Obviously, I know that once Tiff and Dean start their family, she and I won’t get as much time together. I’ll still come over, help out, and be the best Auntie Lil I can possibly be. At least, that’s my plan.

But lately, I feel like she doesn’t even want me to be that. I’m missing out on all the benchmarks of our pre-family friendship. They didn’t have an engagement party. She hasn’t asked me to be maid of honor, claiming they’re just going to do something small for their wedding after the baby comes. Which means we haven’t even had any fun wedding or bachelorette parties to plan, either. Despite the fact that I know they love each other, the whole thing feels rushed.

Not that I know that for certain, because since she got pregnant, she’s barely spoken to me.

I’m not mad at her, exactly. I can’t be. I’m thrilled that my best friend has a great man in her life and, deep down, I know she’ll be an amazing mom. But the more she pushes me away, the more negative feelings come to the surface.

And then when she’s constantly blowing me off for Dean…

It just makes me realize how alone I am without her. She gets a husband, she gets a baby, and I…

I get a big, empty hole in my life where my best friend used to be.

When am I going to get my happy ending? When will some amazing, sexually affluent well-endowed heartthrob with beefy arms come into my life and sweep me off my feet? Keep me satisfied and knock me up with his babies? And then, instead of leaving, be worried enough about me that he’ll crash our girls’ trip and worry over me like I deserve?

I scan the surrounding beach for Dean, but true to his word, he’s “gone” for the day, at the fishing hole a mile down the beach. His truck is nowhere in sight. And aside from the tent behind the cabin and the occasional ping of Tiff’s cell phone alerting her to a text from him and the tap-tap-tap of her replying, there are no signs of his presence.

I clear my throat.

“Well, I could stand to go for a swim. I need to move a bit.” And after reading that spicy book? I kinda need to cool off. “Wanna come with? Even just to soak your feet?”

She doesn’t look up from her phone. “Why don’t you go on ahead? I’ve gotta call Dean with a check-in.”

“You really need to call him? Again?”

This is the third time since breakfast.

She frowns at me, a little wrinkle divoting her brow. “Yeah, Lillian. It’s getting late. I’m pregnant and far away from him. Of course I need to check in.”

“But you’re not far away from him. He went fishing a mile down the beach. He’s literally sleeping twenty feet away from us every night.”

“He just asked how I was feeling. I should at least let him know.”

“Isn’t that what you’ve been doing?” I nod to her phone, where her text conversation with him is lighting up the screen.

“If I don’t call, he’ll worry.” She bites her lip. “You of all people should understand that.”

I close my eyes, and take in a deep breath.

Ever since we first became roommates in Chicago, Tiff and I have been each others’ person. I was there for her through countless boyfriends and girlfriends before she found Dean. We shared our first apartment, a shitty studio in the southside, because neither of us could afford anything better. We were each others’ personal references for our first big-girl jobs.

She was the shoulder I’d cried on when, three years ago, my boyfriend of five years left me because I got pregnant. And then again, a month later, when I found out I wouldn’t be having a baby after all.

That year, our annual girls’ trip was the only lifeline I’d had. I was battling so many emotions: grieving a relationship, a child, a future I hadn’t realized I wanted. And battling the guilt for feeling some nugget of relief that I wouldn’t be navigating the world as a single mother. Every positive thing, every silver lining in those months just wound me deeper into a web of self-loathing.

But Tiffany had been my rock, convincing me that all I needed was some fresh air and the healing waters of Lake Superior.

And, weirdly, she was right. The trip got off to a rough start: I slipped in the mud while we were out hiking and had to trek back to the cabin alone and crying while I found a change of pants. But later that night, we joined back up for a sunset swim and something… changed.

Like the weight of the world was suddenly off my shoulders. Like I could go on, and everything would be okay.

The rest of the trip was amazing. One for the books, for sure, and Tiffany and I were even more inseparable after that…until she met Dean a few months later.

So when she goes and says something like that to justify letting Dean shoehorn his way into our special bestie’s vacation, it rubs me in all the wrong ways. Like she’s using my history against me, to buy her more time with her boyfriend, when this has always been the time of year where we reset our relationship.

Luckily, though, I bite my tongue long enough to realize this is Tiff. She’s the only reason I was able to bounce back from my own miscarriage. And, if I’m honest, I’m probably the reason she’s so scared that something might happen to her and her baby.

Everytime Tiffany makes a noise even slightly resembling a gasp or a groan, I zero in on her faster than a dog with a bone. Because I care about her, and the last thing I’d ever want is for her to go through what I did.

The struggle comes from balancing that concern and understanding with the part of me that’s frustrated with Dean’s constant interruptions. When I ask if something’s wrong, she’s quick to assure me she’s fine and brush it off. But he gets a half-hour phone call three times a day.

Is she actually scared? Or does she just want to get away from me?

After another second of calming breaths, I force a smile. Maybe it has nothing to do with me. Maybe he’s just as much of a mother hen as I am. “Right. Of course, that makes sense. You’ll come in in a bit, though?”

She doesn’t meet my eyes, packing away her Kindle and unlocking her phone. “Yeah, I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

I watch as she grabs all of her stuff, slips on her flip-flops, and walks back to the edge of the treeline, where there’s better cell reception.

Fine. So she can’t be by my side every second of our girls’ trip. That’s fine. Just…fine.

I can still have fun. I can still relax. Enjoy the beautiful scenery. This is one of my favorite places in the world, after all: the freshwater beach of Lake Superior.

I look over the lake to the little island embankment in the middle. All the years we’ve been here, I’ve never actually swum far enough to explore over there, always staying close by the shore. I wonder if there’s anything out there.

I’m a strong swimmer. It’s one of the few forms of exercise I’ve always really enjoyed. I don’t have to worry about finding a sports bra sturdy enough to support my boobs, or feel self-conscious about how I look in my yoga pants. The sensation of weightlessness and anonymity as I move through the cool, deep waters of the lake is one of the greatest feelings in the world.

Just thinking of the soft lapping of the inland waves rocking me out in the open water makes my skin tingle. Still a little hot from my book earlier, I suddenly wonder how the lake water would feel against all my skin, and not just the bits exposed around a swimsuit.

Maybe I can use these few minutes of “me” time to my advantage. Now that I have a little privacy, maybe I can really have a little fun…

After all, Tiffany’s getting her rocks off every night with Dean. I should let off a little steam myself.

I check back over my shoulder to see if Tiffany’s watching. But she’s long gone. Maybe she went off for a little “me” time herself while she talks to Dean.

How long do their phone calls usually last? Twenty minutes? Half an hour?

It’s a private beach. And even if it weren’t, this is the weekend after Labor Day in the UP. Nobody’s camping now that summer’s over. And hunting season hasn’t started yet.

You know what? I’m doing it. YOLO.

My stomach cheers as I strip out of my control-top swimsuit bottoms, and my breasts positively rejoice when I unbuckle the tight tankini top. The feeling of relief is instant.

Thank God, I’m free!

Okay, but seriously, why have I never done this before?

The water laps at my feet as I step carefully along the pebbled beach and into the surf. It’s somehow both invigorating and relaxing. And chilly: the lake maintains a remarkably cool temperature even into the peak of summer up here, because it’s so deep.

Lake Superior doesn’t give up Her dead.

Goosebumps erupt along my arms and shoulders as the old saying pops into my mind. I’m brought back to three years ago, when I first heard that phrase.

The elderly cashier at the campsite welcome center made friendly conversation with Tiffany. I hid behind a rack of local books and brochures, not up for socializing.

One pamphlet caught my eye though, and despite my sour mood, I couldn’t help asking about it.

“Hauntings of Lake Superior?” I read off the front cover. “There are hauntings up here?”

“Oh yes,” the old man said, his gaze suddenly a million miles away. “You’ve heard the old saying, of course?”

Tiffany and I looked at each other. “Old saying?”

“Lake Superior doesn’t give up Her dead.” He pointed at the rack of books, one in particular with an old ship on it. “For hundreds of years, ships have wrecked in surprise storms, or ice floes in the winter. Unequipped to handle the waves of the lake waters. They get lost, you know, sink way down to the bottom of the lake, never seen again. The deep waters… it’d be suicide to try to retrieve ‘em.”

“Does it still happen?”

“Haven’t had one since the Edmund Fitzgerald back in ‘75. But there are still the rumors.”

“Rumors?” Tiffany asked. Even she was getting pulled into the story.

“Oh, there are all sorts of monsters out in the lake, eh? The Ojibwe tell stories of Mishipeshu, the Great Lynx, then of course there’s Pressie, who’s more like our own Lochness Monster.”

“Uh-huh…” I met Tiff’s eyes, holding back an eye roll.

“Haven’t been any reliable sightings in years, o’ course. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t out there…”

Despite all of the history, I’ve never felt anything but awe whenever I take in the lake in all its glory. Its waters always welcome me, drawing me in, accepting me as I am.

Still, there’s something forbidden about stepping in naked, without any protection between me and the icy waters.

I ease deeper and deeper into the surf: first up to my knees, then my thighs…

I gasp as I feel the water lap against my mound. This far out and this deep, the tide exerts a little more pressure around my body, making it harder to stand completely still. I let the push and pull of the tide knead into my muscles.

This is a vacation, after all. And dealing with Dean butting into Tiffany’s and my trip has forced a lot more tension into my neck and shoulders than usual.

Up to my waist now, I take a deep breath before reaching my hands forward and submerging completely. My whole body goes tense at first with the shock in temperature, but then relaxes as I feel Superior’s gentle waves embrace me. I take a few strokes, then surface again, feeling the surface of the water lap against my ribs.

A slight breeze chills my exposed skin, and my nipples harden.

I’ve never gone skinny dipping in my life. How bizarre is that? Tiff and I have been coming to the same private beach for almost a decade now, and we’ve never gone skinny dipping?

I spread my hands out to my sides above the water. How would it feel to float out here, completely naked, half submerged with only the tips of my toes and the peaks of my nipples sticking out of the water?

I glance again to the shore, but Tiff must still be on the phone, because I don’t see her anywhere.

Fuck it.

I arch my back, allowing my legs and lower stomach to rise to the surface as I sink my head and shoulders back into the water. Lazily reaching my arms out and above my head, I slowly stroke out and back, no real aim in mind. Just allow the tide to carry me wherever it wants. I’m a strong swimmer, after all. It’s not like I’m going to get lost in the middle of the largest lake in the world if I just float here for a few minutes.

I spread my legs, starfishing in the surf. Cool water rushes to caress the hot skin between my thighs. God, that feels good. Surprised, I moan.

It’s so nice out here. Nothing above me but the open blue sky and the tops of evergreen trees that flock the north shore framing my vision. Nothing below but the crystal clear water and pebble beaches of the lake. I wish I didn’t have to go back.

Back to my regular life, and my regular job. Back to a world where Tiff and I grow further and further apart as she prepares to become a mother. Where she and Dean build their future family together, eventually forgetting that funny, chubby ol’ Lillian even exists.

I close my eyes, letting my head fall back and my ears and hairline fully submerge, blonde locks fanning out around me in a halo.

With the gentle movement of the water, it almost feels like a caress. Like someone brushing out the strands with a gentle, loving hand…