But instead, she walks to the edge of the truck bed, silhouetted against the lake and the last blush of sunset.
“I’ve never been daring,” she says, voice steady but threaded with something raw.
“I’ve never been allowed to be. I’ve always had to be quiet and careful. Make myself small. Keep the peace.”
She turns to me, and there’s fire in her eyes now.
“But tonight … I want to feel free.”
And then, without warning, she jumps.
Straight into the lake.
The splash rings out across the water and Buddy barks beside me. I scramble to my feet, heart lurching.
“Stormy!” I shout the word, fear clawing up my chest.
She surfaces a second later, laughing. Her hair is slicked back, and water streams down her face. She’s radiant.
“Oh my god, Stormy,” I breathe, half laughing, half stunned.
“Come on, Ford! Don’t make me be brave alone!”
I stare at her, stunned. She’s glowing, soaked, wild, and alive. I shake my head, grinning.
“You’re insane,” I mutter, pulling off my boots.
Then I jump.
The water hits like a shock—cold and clean—and I surface beside her, breathless and laughing. Just the two of us in the water with no past, no weight …just this. Just us.
She splashes me and she’s laughing again, causing golden ripples that shimmer against her skin.
She looks goddess-like. Like something born from light. Not just beautiful, but transcendent, too.
And I’m in awe. Of her courage. Of the way she’s fighting to rewrite her story. Of how she’s choosing joy, choosing herself, choosing this.
She swims towards me, water dripping from her hair, cheeks flushed, eyes bright.
And I swear, I’ve never seen anything more beautiful.
45
Stormy
We float together, cradled in the arms of the cool, gentle lake. The sky above is streaked with lavender and gold, and the fire on the shore flickers like a beacon.
Fords hair is soaked through, and droplets cling to his lashes. The way he looks at me makes my stomach do somersaults.
We laugh, as we splash each other, spinning in slow circles, limbs tangled and weightless. It’s messy and ridiculous, and it’s perfect.
Then gradually, the laughter fades. We drift closer and closer, until our bodies are brushing lightly. Ford reaches out, cupping my cheek in his wet hand. “You know,” he says, voice low and rough with emotion, “you’re braver than anyone I’ve ever met.”
My heart thuds as I listen to his words.
“You left everything behind,” he continues. “You came here, started over. You’ve poured yourself into that bookstore, into this town, into yourself. And you haven’t given up. Even though it’s hard. Even though you feel scared.”
I swallow. The water is cold against my skin, but his words warm me from the inside out.
