‘Well.’ Bia looks at me kindly, and yet with a sense of knowledge that tells me exactly what’s coming next. It’s just me and her, and as much as I love Genny, her absence means we will be cutting straight to the chase. Bia doesn’t beat around the bush. And you sure as hell can’t lie to her. ‘Talk.’
Boo’s gentle panting against my chest calms me a little bit, but it doesn’t make my next words any easier. ‘I’ve been thinking about Char.’
My sister strokes Scout’s fur expectantly, a set of Ma’s gold rings glittering on her fingers. She doesn’t say anything, just waits.
‘And how I was so fucking scared.’
‘Mmm.’ Bia crosses her legs, causing the dog to freak out for a millisecond, but he calms down soon enough. ‘You know fear is okay, don’t you, Rod?’
‘Do you remember where that fear got me?’ I shoot back way too quickly.
Bia is totally unaffected, blinking calmly as she shrugs. ‘It got you here. Look around. You have a beautiful home, a beautiful daughter. Your dream job. A bright future. You did it, Rod, and you don’t give yourself enough credit for that.’
‘Yeah.’ I sigh. Maybe it’s true, but I feel like it’s giving myselftoomuch credit. Boo curls up closer to me, and I give him a scratch behind the ears. ‘Bia, it’s just …’
‘You’re hung up on that year. After she left you with Tali.’
The worst year of my life. Dad was pissed. Ma was disappointed. Charlotte was gone, and suddenly there was this life – my daughter – that I was responsible for. I was nineteen. I didn’t know what I was doing. I felt like I was letting my kid down every single day of that year. Even after Genny and Bia helped me and we mended things, after I started my treatment plan, it felt like that. Clueless, hollow. Didn’t ever go away.
‘Tali’s older now, Bi.’ Boo whimpers as if in solidarity. ‘If I screw up, shewillremember it. If it happens again—’
‘But what if it doesn’t?’ Bia puts in, a hand to my shoulder. Her analytical eyes bore into mine. ‘You’re thinking worst case. Rod … what is thebestthat could happen?’
I could think of the best that could happen. I could think of her. But I can’t let myself.
‘Best that could happen is I get over myself.’ I look down at Boo, who makes big pleading eyes at me. An insistent bark from Scout doesn’t help.
I think Bia’s going to be mad at that response, but she just smiles knowingly. ‘The best that could happen is about to, Rod. You just have to let it.’
Chapter Nineteen
One Canoe to End It All
Jordan
‘Remember when I mentioned I didn’t do so well in large bodies of water?’
Rod turns to me sceptically at the conclusion of that statement. ‘You’re serious? This is a lap pool, Curly.’
So maybe it’s a lap pool. But it’s fucking huge. I glance spitefully at the canoes lined up at the corner of the pool. The kids are already screeching excitedly as they put their stuff down in the bleachers. This has been an undertaking; we (mostly Rod) swim-tested them on Wednesday, and now, Friday, we’ve caved and decided they need a moment off the field to reset before we kick it into overdrive to prepare for the cross-camp. I meant it as a joke when I suggested we have them canoe on my first day at camp. I did not expect Rod and Benny to take my idea to heart as an outing for the kids.
‘That is so wild,’ he continues. ‘You know all these kids can swim on their own, right? See those green wristbands? Don’t tell me we need to get you a “red for rookie.”’
‘No!’ I snap self-consciously. My water issues are a weakness that I am decidedly most ashamed of. When you spend your whole life on land, doing land things, you don’t spend a lot of time in the pool. It’s Oklahoma. We prepare for tornados, not hurricanes. I never wanted to get in the water, and Mom never made me. And honestly, I never really thought about it. I could do plenty of great things on land, including but not limited to hanging onto a bucking horse for a solid eight seconds (most of the time). I’d actually seen several of those signature Oklahoma tornados from the front row. Water didn’t really occur to me as a problem. At least, not until now, here: struggling to get my head in a game of Canoe Battleship.
‘Let’s go, guys!’ Benny calls from down by the canoes. He waves an arm, gesturing to us to join. It’s time.
I throw my hair into a topknot, cinched together by a way-too-small hairband, peel off my camp shirt, and toss it in my tote bag so I’m wearing only my fuchsia one-piece bathing suit, as does Rod beside me. Oh, sure, I’ve seen it all, but I’m not immune. His triceps flex as he pulls the shirt over his head, revealing ultra-defined back muscles, shredded arms, and a perfect six-pack of abs. That silver pendant glitters around his neck, a little oval that looks a lot like my gold one.
He smirks when he catches me looking. I don’t hide it. I don’t stand a chance, not when he’s a literal work of art. His eyes sweep over me in one quick movement.
‘Is my horse fear more or less logical than your water fear?’he asks as we fall into step with the kids, walking down the steps of the bleachers.
‘Less,’ I immediately decide. ‘So much less. Water is a logical thing to be afraid of.’
‘You really don’t get along well with large bodies of water, huh?’ The teasing in Rod’s eyes softens. Something very new enters them. Something a lot softer than the usual glances of sheer longing we exchange. As we approach the bottom of the bleachers and take the walkway running right along the border of the pool, he gives me a gentle nudge at my waist. I’m confused, until he guides me to the left, and continues walking to my right, closest to the water.
Did he just sidewalk-rule my water paranoia?
