Easton
The water was colder than it had any right to be on a Tuesday in November.
Astrid was in it up to her ribs and laughing about it. Her hair was pinned up at the back of her head. Her arms were wrapped around herself like she was holding back the cold by force of will. She'd gone in fast and committed, same as me, and now, she was paying for it. I was on the bank with a towel in my hand and trying not to grin.
"Easton."
"Yeah."
"You're laughing at me."
"I am."
"I hate you."
"Mhm."
She'd texted me at three.
Astrid
Lake. Bring towels. I have news.
The news was the clinic. Two more families called about appointments next week. A woman from Caldwell's churchbooked her hound for the spring shots. The Bishops referred Mrs. Bishop's sister-in-law, and the sister-in-law had a poodle. Audrey brought wine over the night before to mark one month of being open and made her cry once, briefly, into her own kitchen sink, which Astrid told me about offhand—the same offhand she'd been using lately for things she let herself feel only after the fact.
She came out of the water, and I wrapped the towel around her, both ends in my fists at the small of her back. She put her hands on my chest. They were colder than the water. She tipped her chin up at me.
"You're warm."
"You're not."
"Make a fire."
"In a minute."
There was a fire pit at the far end of the bank. Somebody had left dry wood under the tarp by the picnic table. We had time. The sun wasn't done. The sky behind her head had gone from blue to the color of weak tea.
She tucked her face against my shoulder. The water in her hair ran cold down the front of my T-shirt.
This was the picture. The lake. The woman in the towel. The dog on the bank. Me holding her. A life I'd been quietly living for two months without saying it out loud, because saying it out loud felt like something you didn't rush.
My phone rang in my back pocket.
She went still against my shoulder.
I dug it out one-handed, keeping the other arm around her.
Shane.
She didn't look up. She knew the rhythm of who I picked up for.
I stepped back from her. I left the towel around her shoulders.
"Two minutes."
"Take it."
I walked four yards down the bank toward the picnic table.
