Chapter 4: The Quiet Before the Storm

The morning sun barely kissed the surface of Cedar Lake, and the world outside the cabin remained still. Tom had been up for hours, though he hadn’t slept much. The quiet was no refuge for him anymore—it was a constant reminder of the ticking clock inside him. The ache in his bones, once subtle, had become a full-body heaviness he couldn’t ignore. He moved slowly through the cabin, making coffee, trying to push through the discomfort.
Jesse was next, emerging from his room looking as tired as Tom felt. He glanced at Tom, eyes narrowing slightly, noticing the pale shade of his friend’s face. But he didn’t say anything. There were unspoken rules between men like them—sometimes you just didn’t ask.
“Still standing,” Jesse muttered, walking out onto the porch with a cup of coffee. Tom followed, cradling his own mug, staring at the mist rising off the lake.
They stood in silence for a while, letting the stillness fill the spaces between them. Jesse was the first to break the quiet.
“You okay, man?” he asked, the question more automatic than caring. He wasn’t really sure what he meant by it—just a feeling that something was off.
Tom nodded, eyes still on the lake. “Just tired.”
Jesse grunted, letting the conversation drift. He had enough going on in his own life without trying to dig into Tom’s. The past weighed heavily on him this morning—thoughts of the shop, his mom, and the life he’d never had. He didn’t want to think about it, but being here, in the place where they’d once planned futures that never came true, made it impossible to ignore.
Sara shuffled into the kitchen, her phone already in hand. She barely glanced at the two men as she poured herself coffee, her thumb hovering over a series of unread messages. Her boss, Ronald, had texted her twice more overnight—each message more vile than the last. She hadn’t opened them yet, didn’t need to. The words felt like poison just sitting in her inbox.
“Morning,” she mumbled, taking her coffee out onto the porch, and joining Jesse and Tom. Her eyes darted to her phone every few seconds, the weight of it pulling her deeper into a place she didn’t want to be.
“You miss your boy?” Jesse asked, his voice softer than usual.
Sara smiled weakly. “Every minute.”
Her guilt wrapped itself around her like a heavy coat. She shouldn’t have come, she thought. Not with everything waiting for her back home—her son, the harassment at work, the mess of a life she’d left for a weekend. She’d thought this trip might be a break, but it felt like she’d just brought her problems with her.
Mike was the last to stumble out, his phone already in hand, typing furiously. He barely acknowledged the others, muttering a distracted “morning” as he made his way to the table. The Jax Slade interview was turning into a nightmare. Every hour, something new—Slade changing the time, his publicist calling with a different location, the entire thing feeling like it could fall apart at any moment.
Jesse watched him with a scowl. “Still working, huh?” There was more bite in his tone than he intended, but Mike didn’t even notice.
“Yeah, well, Slade’s a diva. He can’t make up his mind, and if I don’t lock this down, the mag’s gonna freak,” Mike said, not looking up from his phone.
Jesse’s grip tightened around his coffee mug. “Must be nice,” he muttered under his breath.
Tom noticed the tension brewing but didn’t say anything. His body felt heavier today, the ache creeping into his chest. He shifted his weight, trying to find a position that didn’t hurt as much, but it was useless.
The group gathered around the breakfast table, the unspoken tension hanging thick between them. Sara sipped her coffee, eyes fixed on the phone she’d placed face down on the table. Jesse leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his jaw clenched. Mike tapped away on his phone, the screen casting a faint glow on his face.
“Plans for today?” Tom asked, trying to break the silence. His voice sounded too light like he was trying too hard to pretend everything was fine.
Sara shrugged her thoughts elsewhere. “I’m up for whatever.”
Mike, distracted, glanced up briefly. “Can’t go too far. I’ve got a call at noon.” He went back to his phone without waiting for a response.
Jesse let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “Of course you do.”
Mike finally looked up, frowning. “What’s your problem?”
Jesse straightened, his eyes narrowing. “No problem, man. You’re just busy saving the world, right?”
Tom could feel the tension rising, but before he could step in, Sara stood abruptly.
“I need some air,” she said, grabbing her phone and walking out the front door before anyone could respond.
The day passed with a slow, simmering discomfort. They made half-hearted attempts at conversation, but the unspoken resentment and tension among them kept rising. Jesse grew more distant, his mind circling back to everything he’d lost—the dreams that had slipped away when his mom got sick when Denise got pregnant. He hadn’t planned for any of it, but it had become his life, whether he wanted it or not.

Mike, still distracted by the chaos of the Jax Slade interview, didn’t notice how badly he was pushing Jesse’s buttons. He was too wrapped up in his own problems to see the growing storm around him.
By the time evening fell, the group sat around the campfire again, the flames flickering in the cool night air. Tom leaned back, his body betraying him more with each passing minute. Jesse poked at the fire with a stick, watching the embers rise into the dark sky.
“It’s crazy how things change,” Jesse said quietly, staring into the flames. “Feels like a lifetime ago we were all sitting here, talking about what we were gonna be.”
Sara nodded, her phone still in her hand, though she hadn’t looked at it in a while. “Yeah. Things were different.”
Mike grunted, not really paying attention. He was waiting for another call from his editor. The whole Jax Slade situation was on a knife’s edge, and he couldn’t let it fall apart.
Tom watched them all, feeling the tension grow. It was only a matter of time before something snapped.
The fire crackled softly, the heat warming their faces, but the chill in the air was undeniable. They sat in silence, each lost in their own thoughts, each carrying the weight of their unspoken truths. The tension simmered, waiting for the moment when it would all finally break.
© 2024 Pot Culture Magazine. All rights reserved. This content is the exclusive property of Pot Culture Magazine and may not be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations in critical reviews or analyses.
Discover more from POT CULTURE MAGAZINE
Subscribe to get the latest posts sent to your email.
Leave a comment