“You trust me, right?” He held his hand out in her direction, and she stared at it for several seconds like she didn’t know what it was.
When she didn’t move, he dropped his hand. “Oh. So you don’t trust me.”
“No,” she said. “I do.”
“Then let me help you.”
When he said it, he sounded so earnest, so intentional, she had no choice but to obey. It didn’t matter that she was certain she was beyond help or that her dreams haunted her even when she was awake—in that moment, the only thing she needed was what he wanted to give: a small piece of himself.
His hand was back, an offering of hope, and she took it because it had been a long time since she’d felt hopeful, and she missed that feeling.
“We’re going to go slow,” he said.
“I bet you say that to all the girls,” she said with a thoughtless laugh.
He looked at her, but she kept her eyes down, away—anywhere but locked on to his. She had no filter. Where was the nearest hole to fall into?
She willed herself to stop being so ridiculous and tried to act casual, like they were just two buddies hanging out on the beach and not two people who’d been more than friends once upon a time but who were not friends at all right now. She forced herself not to think about the way his hand wrapped around hers made her feel—like she could do anything.
Her foot slipped and splashed in the shallow water. His arm was around her waist in a flash, steadying her and keeping her from falling.
“You okay?”
“Sure,” she squeaked.
“I don’t, you know.”
She righted herself and looked at him. “Don’t what?”
“Say that to all the girls.” He still had a hold of her hand.
“You don’t go slow?” Her heart dropped. Why would he tell her that?
He laughed. “That’s not what I meant. I meant there haven’t been a lot of girls.”
Oh. Well, that she hadn’t expected. Was he telling the truth?
He pulled his shirt off and tossed it onto the dry sand a few feet away, then gave her a once-over. She still had shorts and a tank top over her swimsuit, and frankly that was just fine with her. Except then she’d be in wet clothes the rest of the day.
Why couldn’t they be holding a dogsled race? Then her body could remain covered in layers and layers of clothes.
She removed her tank top and chucked it onto the shore. Her suit was hardly revealing—she’d gotten it for actual swimming, after all. Looking good on the beach had never been her concern.
She stepped out of the water, took her shorts off, and threw them on the pile. When she turned, she found him looking at her, and all at once her entire body blushed. “What?”
He looked away. “Nothing.”
Was he . . . smiling?
She made her way back out to where he stood. “What now, skipper?”
“Now we swim.”
A wave of panic rolled through her.
“Slowly.” He stood in front of her and took both of her hands, then started walking backward. Each time the water rose enough to notice, he stopped and talked to her, usually about something unrelated to the water.
He asked what had happened to Muffin (her hamster), and she told him about Teddy and how one day she planned to dog-nap him simply on principle. After all, she was the one who’d wanted the dog in the first place.
Another step. “So you and that guy from the auction . . .”
Her eyes darted to his, then back down to the water. “Eric.”
“Was it serious?”
“I guess. Kind of.”
“Why aren’t you together?” Another step.
“He didn’t believe in me,” she said matter-of-factly. There were many reasons she and Eric weren’t together, but at the heart of it, this was the one that mattered most.
She could practically feel Cody’s frown.
“I told him I wanted to start my own business. He gave me a list of reasons why I shouldn’t. I guess I got tired of believing people who don’t believe in me.”
Another step.
“That’s funny.”
She frowned. “Funny?”
“No, I mean, because to me, you’ve always seemed kind of invincible. Confident, you know, like a person who could do anything.”
Her cheeks grew hot. “Really?”
“Even end up waist-deep in the water.”
She followed his gaze, and only then did she notice how far they’d traveled. “Well, look at that.”
They stood still for a long moment; then he broke the silence. “You’re still really close with Maggie.”
He said it as a statement, not a question.
She glanced down. “You know I always wanted to live here year-round. Everyone said it was crazy, but Maggie said I should go for it. She said the island was beautiful in the summer, but it was magic in the winter. She was right.”
“You spend a lot of time with her?”
Another nod. “She’s like the mother I never had.” She looked up, certain her expression had turned sad, which was unintentional.
“And she’s really dying?”
“She’s really dying.”
His eyes were on the water occupying the space between them.
“That’s why I want to have this party for her,” she said. “She needs to know that everyone loves her, that we’re all okay.”
“You don’t think she knows that?”
She moved her gaze to his. “I think it makes her sad that none of us talk anymore.”
The water lapped around her waist, but she didn’t feel scared or nervous at all. Her hands were still locked inside his, and she thought she could stay like that forever.
“You and I are talking right now,” he said.
“Only because we have to,” Louisa said.
He frowned. “Or maybe because we want to.”
She studied him for any hint of what he was thinking, but she came up empty. Cody Boggs had become difficult to read. He said these things that made her think maybe they could start over, that maybe he did forgive her—but then in the next breath, he’d say other things that made her positive he’d crafted a permanent parking space for the chip on his shoulder.
She braced herself for the flip side of his coin, but it never came. Instead, he gave her hands a tug and drew her a little farther into the water.
Seconds later, she realized the water was at her shoulders and she was still breathing normally.
“Okay, I’m taller than you,” he said.
“Not by much.”
“Yeah, I get it, you’re tall.” He smiled at her—a real smile. She felt it in her toes. “But I’m going to ask you to do something that requires you to trust me a little.”
“Haven’t I already proven that I trust you? Look where we are.” She glanced back toward the spot where they’d left their clothes, and her pulse kicked up.
“No,” he said firmly. “Look at me. Don’t look back there.”
She did as she was told.
“You’re safe, okay? Remember—elite swimmer.”
She inched back and looked into his deep-brown eyes. She had the feeling he was about to ask her to do something terrifying. So why wasn’t she scared?