“Hm?”
“You’re not a what, don’t let them dehumanize you,” I said, jaw tight from lingering anger.
She smiled and quickly blinked a few times before looking away. “Thank you.”
A bird chirped in the distance. Another joined in, their singing a soothing duet to pair with the lake’s silence.
“I started watching people after that party. No more feet first. No more blind trust in kindness.” Octavia straightened her shoulders and held my gaze. She showed me she wasn’t broken down by it. Because this wasn’t a weak point. No, how she decided to cope was the source of her strength. This was how Octavia made it through all those years of loneliness.
“I didn’t give people the benefit of the doubt anymore,” she said. “I know it’s something I should probably have moved on from by now?—”
I frowned. “Why would you say that?”
“Because I’m in my thirties with a chip on my shoulder from middle school.” She laughed under her breath as if it were ridiculous.
“And age is supposed to be the defining marker of healing? When has that ever been a thing?”
“Plenty of people will say it’s a thing.” Octavia didn’t sound sure.
“Show me a person who’s completely healed all their trauma by the age of thirty and I’ll…” I tried to think of something preposterous.
“Believe in ghosts?” she teased.
“Worse,” I countered. “I’ll believe in Sasquatch.”
Octavia leaned in. “Wait? Sasquatch isn’t real?”
I sighed. “Don’t let December hear you say that.”
“Why would that be so weird? On top of everything else?”
“Because, come on, think about it. Some missing link in the middle of the PNW smart enough to evade all technology well into the twenty-first century?”
Octavia shrugged. A lightness returned to her face. The sun smoothed out any lingering wrinkles of the past, settling her into the present. I ached to figure out how to make this her permanent state. For now, I’d have to settle for the temporary.
“It sounds more plausible to me than ghosts,” she said.
“Of course, that’s what you believe in.” I exaggerated a scoff and pulled my hands out from underneath my thighs to rub my fingers together. My knuckles were stiff and freezing. I reached for the paddles again, hoping somemovement would get my blood flowing. But before I could make contact, Octavia carefully pushed herself out of her seat. Her eyes went wide at the gentle rocking of the boat. She stretched out her arms, trying to balance her weight once more.
“What are you doing?” I asked, laughing a bit at the sight of her on both knees in front of me with her arms out as if she had a pair of wings.
“When it comes to weather and environment, your lack of preparation is troubling.” Octavia sighed as if she were being put out, but the lingering smile on her lips told another story. She dug into one of her many coat pockets, retrieving a pair of knitted pink, purple, and blue-striped mittens. The colors were of the bi flag.
“Your fingers are nearly blue.” Her nose wrinkled at the sight. “I figured you wouldn’t have the proper gear on.”
“So, you brought something warm for me, just in case.” I fluttered my eyelashes, feigning extreme flattery. My heart rate picked up tenfold. I had a soft spot for being taken care of. I loved opened doors, pulled-out seats, and being carried over puddles.
“And they say chivalry is dead.” I held out my hand.
Octavia snorted, unimpressed, but tugged on the mittens carefully. “You can barely bend your fingers. If you lose them, who else would get us back to shore?”
“I believe in you.” I watched her take care not to jostle my fingers too much. The skin did ache to bend, the space between my fingers embarrassingly ashy. I was usually better about carrying around lotion or Vaseline.
Octavia’s fingers grazed across my wrist, leaving hot trails in her wake. The gloves held warmth from their time in her pocket. While she got to work tugging on the other one, I struggled with swallowing. Her head bent forward,gaze focused on slipping each one of my fingers into the individual sleeves. She was slow and meticulous, perhaps enjoying the act as much as I did. Hell, I take it if she was only enjoying it half as much.
“Alright.” She patted my now-protected palms. “Better?”
“A thousand times over.” I nodded, trying to catch her eye. She remained kneeling for a bit. I held my breath in fear that any change in position would scare her off.
