What if those weren’t just dreams, either?
Graham slowly raised his head and stared across the cabin. His last conversation with his grandpa before he passed away came back with crystal clarity.
“I want you to look after my lake for me. Take care of it… protect it. You’re the only one I trust to care for it… as I cared for it. It’s yours now. Love it… and it will love you back.”
Graham lowered his eyes to the floor, his brow furrowing.Love it… and it will love you back.Graham hadn’t thought anything of his grandpa’s words at the time, knowing how much he loved the cabin and the lake. After reading the passage in his journal, his understanding of the old man’s love for the lake deepened.
A tremor ran through Graham, and he grabbed the journal as he slid back on the bed, sitting cross-legged. He reread the same passage while releasing the restraints of his mind. His attention caught on a single paragraph:
My desire for him this evening pulsed through me like moonlight through water, leaving me dizzy as he traced the hollows between my ribs with fingertips that weren't quite fingers. He surrounded me completely—his touch simultaneously cool as lake water and hot as summer air against my naked skin. Tendrils of sensation wrapped around my thighs, my waist, the column of my throat. I trembled violently, my body vibrating like a plucked string, even before I felt him push inside me—filling me with a presence both solidand liquid that seemed to reach impossible places. When he moved within me, the trembling became a violent shuddering that started in my core and radiated outward until even my vision blurred. What he does to me—the way my consciousness seems to fragment into shards of pure sensation—defies explanation.
Another tremor shuddered through Graham, his heart pounding faster with each phrase that suddenly seemed to hold more meaning than before.
…moved inside me like liquid electricity.
…skin gleaming with otherworldly phosphorescence.
When he spoke of eternity, I felt it in the iridescent shimmer of his skin against mine…
…touches that left trails of blue-white light across my flesh.
The love I feel for him floods every cell until my skin can barely contain it…
Graham was shaking, his vision blurring, as he read aloud the final piece of the entry. “I often think about the day we met, and what would have become of me had he not intervened in my life. Would I even be here today? He saved my life… in every way. And showed me a love I would have never believed existed if not for him. He will be a part of me always, in this life and the next.”
He saved my life… in every way.What did that mean?
Whowas Lochlan? Why had he described him that way in the journal?Fingers that weren’t really fingers?Tendrilsof sensation thatwrappedhis thighs, waist, and throat?
Graham had thought his grandpa was using a writer’s poetic eloquence to describe how his lover made him feel… but what if he wasn’t? What if he was beingliteral?
Rising on shaky legs, Graham returned to the window, still gripping the journal. His gaze traveled across the glassy surface of the lake.It’s yours now. Love it… and it will love you back.
Was he really just talking about thelake—or somethingunderthe lake?
What kind of “legacy” had his grandfather left him?
You’re the only one I trust to care for it.
His grandpa had said he wasspecial… and that’s why he entrusted the lake to Graham.Onlyto Graham. He leaned against the windowpane, feeling lightheaded. Yesterday’s dream flooded over him—the ecstasy and sensuality that overwhelmed his senses, his body. He had never been so…aroused… in his life.
This isn’t normal. This can’t be normal.Was he going crazy? Where his mind was taking him couldn’t befor real.What happened last nightcouldn’t be real.There had to be another explanation. Therehadto be.
Graham returned to the bed and laid the journal on the pillow, staring at the worn leather cover. He was afraid to dive deeper into the passages, to learn thewholetruth of his grandfather’slovefor the “lake.”
The sound of an engine made Graham jump, and his pulse spiked. He quickly pulled on a clean pair of jeans and stepped onto the porch in his bare feet. Tension knotted his gut as Deke’s Ford pickup emerged from the trees. Did they remember what happened? Would anyone believe them even if they did? Graham couldn’t believe it, even though he’d seen it with his own eyes. They had all been hammered; he knew from experience that when they partied that hard, they rarely remembered much the next day. But could even a severely sloshed mind forgetthat?
Graham suddenly felt sick with fear that they would recall everything. What would he do in that case? Had he already failed to protect the lake, simply by allowing them to party on the water? His fear magnified as Deke parked the truck and climbed out. Graham didn’t know if Deke being alone was good or bad.
The guy glanced at the lake, a strained look on his face, as he walked toward the porch. Graham stood at the top of the steps, his toes pressing into the splintered wooden planks as his stomach twisted and cramped. His eyes darted to the lake as a small ripple crinkled the otherwise smooth surface. A gust of wind? Something else? His eyes snapped back to Deke as the man approached the porch. Graham offered no cordial “hello” and let him speak first.
“Graham…” Deke said with a guarded tone. He looked like shit, his eyes still a bit bloodshot and wincing against the bright morning sunlight. “About last night…” He faltered.
“What about it?”
Deke released a stiff breath. “Do you… remember anything?”
“You mean, after my so-calledfriendsmade me walk theplankand threw me into the water? Then threw loaded beer cans at my head?” He scoffed. “Why the hell would I rememberthat?”
