He steps into the water.
It's shallow at the edge.Ankle deep.Cold enough that I see the shock ripple through his body, see his hands clench, see his chin drop to his chest.But he doesn't retreat.
"Talk to me," he says.
I move to the edge of the pool.Crouch on the rock.My voice comes out steady and warm, the same voice I use with Scout, with Koda, with every broken creature I've ever loved back to life.
"You're safe.The water is six inches deep where you're standing.The bottom is solid granite.There's no current.No swell.No undertow."
He takes another step.The water climbs to his shins.His breathing goes fast and shallow, and I can see the pulse hammering in his throat.
"I hear them," he whispers."Thomas calling for help.Caleb screaming."
"That's a memory.It's not here.What's here is cold water and morning light and me."I extend my hand across the surface.My fingers hover above the water."Come to me."
He wades forward.Step by step.The water reaches his knees, then his thighs.His jeans darken.His whole body trembles.But his eyes are locked on mine, and with each step the trembling lessens, and the breathing slows, and the rigid terror in his jaw begins to ease.
He reaches me.Takes my hand.His grip is crushing, his fingers ice-cold and shaking, and I hold on with everything I have.
"You're here," I say."You're standing in water and you're here."
"I'm here."His voice cracks.His free hand comes up and cups my face, wet fingers against my cheek, and the cold of the water and the heat of his palm create a contrast that sends shivers racing across my skin."I'm here, and I'm not running."
"I know you're not."
"I love you."He says it like a dam breaking.Like the words have been backed up behind something massive and the structure just gave way."I love you, Lydia.I love the way you read every room you walk into.I love the way you talk to dogs like they're people who just need the right person to listen.I love that you wore my flannel every day and you fight for animals who can't fight for themselves and you looked at me like I was worth saving when I'd given up on that a long time ago."
I'm crying.Not subtle, dignified tears.The ugly kind.The kind that come from a place so deep you didn't know it existed until someone cracked it open.
"I'm coming with you," he says."To New Hampshire.To the deposition.To wherever the hell you need to go.And then we're coming back here, to this mountain, and you're moving into my cabin, and I'm going to spend the rest of my life being the partner you asked for."
"You can't just decide that."
"I already decided.I decided at midnight sitting on my porch holding your flannel and realizing that my cabin smells like you and my bed is empty without you and I don't want another night where I'm not falling asleep with your hair in my face and your dog taking up half the mattress."
A sob-laugh erupts from my chest."Scout doesn't take up half the mattress."
"Scout takes up exactly half the mattress and you know it and I don't care because she's yours and you're mine and the whole package deal is the best thing that ever walked onto my sixty acres."He pulls me off the rock.
I go into the water fully clothed.The cold shocks through my jeans and my boots and up my spine, and I don't care because Stephen's arms are around me and his mouth is on mine and he's kissing me standing in water up to our thighs, and the man who couldn't look at a creek without hearing ghosts is holding me in a pool beneath a waterfall and telling me he loves me.
I kiss him back with everything.Both hands in his wet hair, my body pressed against his, tasting cold water and salt tears and the man I've been falling for since the moment he held my handshake too long and looked at me like I'd broken something in him he didn't know was still intact.
"Say it again," I whisper against his mouth.
"I love you."
"Again."
"I love you, Lydia.I love you.I'm in love with you."He presses his forehead to mine."And I'm standing in a goddamn waterfall to prove it, so if you could tell me you love me back, that would be really helpful for my nervous system right now."
I laugh.Crying and laughing at the same time, standing in freezing water in September in Montana with two dogs watching from the shore and a waterfall roaring behind us.
"I love you, Stephen.I've loved you since you sat in the dirt and read my book out loud to a dog."
His arms tighten around me.He lifts me off the bottom, my legs wrapping around his waist, and carries me out of the pool.Water streams from our clothes, our hair, our skin.He sets me on the dry granite and frames my face with both hands and looks at me like I'm every sunrise he thought he'd never see.
"Your flight's at two," he says.
