Back To Before

Katie

I should’ve said no.

But the thing about guilt is, it doesn’t ask. It just drags you back, no matter how hard you try to run from it.

The music is too loud for the car’s size, but no one turns it down.

Justin has one arm hanging out the window, his fingers tapping against the door in time with the beat, while Sally keeps both hands on the wheel.

I glance down at my cell. Eight texts from Brad. Back to back. I lock the screen.

The late afternoon sun cuts across the windshield, warming the dash and the tops of our legs, and for a second, it almost feels normal.

Like one of those drives from years ago, when we’d pile into someone’s car with too many bags, too much junk food, and no real plan except to get to the cottage before dark.

“We almost lost it,” Sally says, sounding like she’s about to throw a punch at the steering wheel.

“Seriously, Sal. When you called, I thought it was just some paperwork. I didn’t realize we were this close to losing the place.”

“Yeah, well, what was I supposed to say? ‘Hey, Katie, hope you’re well, come help me un-fuck a disaster?'"

Sally laughs. “I’m glad you’re here.”

She takes one hand off the wheel and touches mine.

Justin leans forward from the back seat, dropping the music. “Honestly, I thought you were exaggerating. But thirty days? That’s some doomsday clock bullshit.”

“And we’re already ten days in,” I add. “So, no pressure.”

“Awesome.” Sally grips the wheel a bit harder. “I found the notice in a pile of pizza coupons at my old place. If I hadn’t stopped for my mail, I’d be royally screwed.”

Justin shakes his head. “And the neighbors have been bitching for months, apparently.”

“Typical,” Sally says, rolling her eyes. “Let a couple trust-fund babies buy up the shoreline, and suddenly your grandma’s place is a ‘hazard.’ Like, sorry we didn’t install an infinity pool. History has no value anymore.”

Justin grins. “The problem is that the place actually has history. Can’t have the ghosts of our childhood bulldozed forever.”

I look out the window, but I’m no longer really seeing the road. I’m seeing the cottage the way it used to be. The dock crowded in July. Wet towels thrown over the railing. Music drifting out from the kitchen with the screen door banging every few minutes.

Winter break weekends, when we came up anyway, drove out to the hill, froze our fingers off snowboarding, and sledding all day, then came back red-cheeked and starving, trailing snow through the mudroom while somebody yelled, “Where’s the hot chocolate?

“Sally’s Sweet Sixteen was the shitshow of the decade,” Justin says, grinning.

“That punch was ninety percent vodka and ten percent fruit by the end. I’m still not convinced I have a liver.”

Sally groans. “My mother still thinks one of us spiked it.”

“One of us?” I say.

Justin goes quiet.

Sally rolls her eyes. “Nick tried to fight a wasp.”

“He tried to *box* a wasp,” I correct. “Little bastard won, too.”

Justin laughs. “He got stung and screamed like he’d been shot. I thought he was going to dive off the dock just to get away.”

“He absolutely screamed,” I add, already grinning at the memory.

For a second, it’s easy. Familiar. Like nothing really changed.

Then the sinking feeling comes back.

“So we fix what we can this week,” I say. “Enough to show the city it isn’t abandoned.”

“That’s the idea,” Sally says. “We make it safe, make it look livable again, make it clear I’m making an effort.”

“And buy time,” Justin adds.

“That too.”

Justin shrugs. “One week. All in.”

One week. It sounds manageable when he says it like that. A project. A favor. A stretch of time with a beginning and an end.

It isn’t any of those things. Not for me.

“Nick’s meeting us there?” I ask.

Sally nods. “He had to show a place this morning.”

“Yeah, he’s doing okay,” Justin says. “Nothing says emotional labor like staging one of those new condos in town.”

I smile, but it fades fast. I refuse to ask about Cole. Even his name in my head pisses me off.

I do not have to. The silence around his name is loud enough on its own.

Sally clears her throat. “He’s already there.”

When did she become a mind reader?

I keep my eyes on the window. “Okay.”

“He got there early to look things over.”

“Okay.”

Justin shifts and looks back at me. “He’s doing us a favor, Katie.”

Hearing Justin being serious means something. I let it go.

“I’m totally calm,” I say. For their sake. Maybe a bit for mine too.

Justin nods. “It’s going to be fine. It’s going to be fun too. I can feel it. I threw out some tarot cards this morning before we left. Mostly red, a couple black. So what if there’s a hiccup or two.”

I shoot him a look. “You really did that?”

“You know I did. A little insight goes a long way, Katie.”

I give him a look in the rearview mirror.

He throws his hands up. “I surrender. Full retreat.”

Sally shakes her head, but she’s smiling. That’s probably why I really came. Not just for the cottage. Because Sally sounded like she was about to lose it, and I know her better than she thinks.

The road curves, and the trees begin to thin. Water flashes between them, bright under the lowering sun. My stomach torments me enough that I have to shift again.

I tell myself it is the place. The memories. The fact that I have not been back in five years.

I do not let myself dig any deeper than that.

“We really can do this,” Sally says, softer now, like she is convincing herself as much as me. “It’s a lot, but with everyone there and Cole handling the big stuff, we can make a real dent.”

There it is again. His name dropped into the conversation like it meant nothing.

Maybe to everyone else it doesn’t. Justin turns the music down another notch. “What exactly are we walking into?”

Sally blows out a breath. “The porch railings need replacing. There’s water damage near the back windows. Part of the kitchen floor by the mudroom has softened, which I’m trying not to think about too hard, and the city inspector noted exterior neglect, structural concerns, and general safety issues. The front needs the lawn cut. All that good stuff.”

Justin whistles. “General safety issues. Holy shit.”

“It’s accurate,” she says.

I look out at the water again. “If we were strangers driving by, we’d probably say the same thing.”

“No, we wouldn’t,” Sally says immediately.

I glance at her. She keeps her eyes on the road. “We’d say it needs help. Not that it should be torn down.”

She’s right. Some things look past saving until somebody who loves them gets close enough to know better. That would be the five of us. Friends since I can remember. Not so much now.

The gravel crunches under the tires as Sally turns into the long drive, and suddenly, we are there.

The all-seasons cottage rises into view through the trees, and even though I know what to expect, seeing it like this still knocks the air out of me for a second. The roofline’s the same. The wraparound porch is still there. The sloped lawn still rolls down toward the water. But time’s had its way with the place. Paint peels along the siding. One corner of the porch sags. Tall grass has pushed up around the edges, and the old flower beds are nothing but weeds now.

It looks tired. It also looks like itself. Sort of.

Sally pulls the car to a stop and kills the engine. The music cuts out, making every thought louder.

For a second, none of us moves.

Then Justin opens his door. “Well,” he says as he climbs out. “She’s still standing.”

Barely, I think, but I keep that to myself.

I get out after him, the cooler air brushing against my bare arms. It smells like water and sun-warmed wood, and the place still gets into your bones whether you want it to or not. I shut the car door and stand there for a second, looking.

At the porch where we used to sit wrapped in blankets after midnight. Toward the dock where we spent whole summers talking, diving and just being us.

And then I see the truck.

Parked off to the side near the back, big and dark and clean enough to stand out against the age of everything around it. The logo on the door is impossible to miss.

Adams Commercial Contracting.

*****

Welcome, romance lovers 💜

Back To Before is a small‑town, second‑chance romance / erotica about ex‑sweethearts forced back into each other’s lives when coming home isn’t optional anymore. Expect jealous sparks, messy history, found‑family friendships, and slow‑burn tension that turns very, very hot.

This book is part of Inkitt’s Chance Romance Writing Contest 2026, and I’ll be updating chapters weekly while the contest runs. Every read, vote, comment, and review helps Katie and Cole fight for their second chance on—and off—the page.

If you love second‑chance exes to loverssmall‑town drama and ride‑or‑die friendssecrets from the past blowing up the presentemotional heat with explicit, adult scenes

…you’re in the right story.

Dive in, get attached, yell at them when they mess up.

I’m reading along with you.

E.G.💜

*****

Copyright © E.G. Patrick

All rights reserved.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form, or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or any information browsing, storage, or retrieval system, without permission in writing from the author or agent.

1. Fiction, Action, Erotica, Romance / Mature Scenes. 18+