Page 73 of A Thousand Second Chances

“Oh, without a doubt.” I grin and bump my shoulder against his. “But I’m banking on you not being terminal. Otherwise, today’s going to be over real quick.”

He laughs, and the sound warms my chest.Mission accomplished.Now if I can just do that a hundred more times today, maybe I’ll be able to die satisfied.

We’re near the far eastern edge of downtown along the lakefront when I notice Percy checking his phone. I snatch it from his grasp. “No phones,” I announce, ignoring his startled complaint as I dangle it out of his reach. “Reminders from the outside world are the last thing we need today. This is about seizing the moment, not fretting over real life.”

A shadow passes over Percy’s face, quickly replaced by a grin. “Fine. No phones. It’s just you and me.”

AndGod, that thought really shouldn’t send such a wave of contented butterflies fluttering through my stomach.

I pass him his phone. True to his word, he powers it down, rolling his eyes when I make him show me the screen as proof. I do the same, leaving us both untethered. It’s not the first time we’ve gone without phones during an iteration, but something about it feels different today. Or maybe it’s onlymethat’s different. Me and Percy.

He’s letting me hold his hand, I realize. We’ve been weaving our way through public for a good twenty minutes now, and he hasn’t let go or seemed self-conscious even once. It’s a small thing, but it feels like a momentous victory all the same.

We reach the small dock I’d spotted with Quinn, and I’m relieved when Percy’s face lights up at the rental sign. “Kayaks?”

I nod. “I’ve done it a few times in rivers, but never out on open water like this. Ever since I spotted this place, I’ve been itching to try it out.”

“Oh, it’s a blast on the lake! A lot more peaceful than kayaking on a river since you don’t have to deal with as strong of a current or navigate around obstacles. As long as you stick close to the island, you can sit back, relax, and enjoy the view.”

“Sounds perfect.”

After paying for our rentals, we tug on bright orange life vests, grab paddles from a bucket, and carry our selected kayaks to the water. Percy maneuvers into his seat easily enough, but I’m so distracted by the sight of him bending over that I almost tumble head-first off the dock.

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” I grumble once I’m properly settled into my kayak’s stiff plastic seat.

Percy wipes at his eyes. “Aren’t you supposed to be the athlete here?”

“Formerathlete.” I start up a rough stroke, alternating sides to propel me smoothly through the water. Usually, thinking of my old track days is enough to send me spiraling, but today, it doesn’t seem like such a big deal. I miss it, sure—the team, the camaraderie, pushing myself to compete—but it’s no longer this empty, gaping hole inside me.

I glance at Percy and find him still grinning. My heart stutters at the sight, and an answering smile tugs at my lips. Maybe it bothers me less because I’ve found something else to fill thathole. Which…wow, now I’m picturing all kinds of inappropriate things. Thank God Percy can’t read my dirty mind.

“Whatcha thinking about over there?” Percy calls, because ofcoursehe notices my mortification.

“Nothing.” I ignore his questioning look and study his firm stroke. His biceps pull taut with each expert dip of his paddle as he pilots his kayak away from shore with practiced ease. “How’d you get so good at that? We never went kayaking while we were together.”

Percy’s smile dims. “My parents and I used to go out every summer when we visited.”

I mentally berate myself for dampening his good mood. Ofcourseit had involved his mom. Should I apologize for bringing it up, or would that only make things worse? I don’t want to draw more attention to his loss than necessary. As if this whole damn island isn’t already full of far too many painful memories for him.

“I’ll race you to that point over there,” I say, pointing to a spot further down the shore. “Last one there buys lunch.”

For a moment, I think he’ll refuse. Then he nods, a ghost of a grin resurfacing. “You’re on. Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you.”

Turns out, Percy’s definition ofeasystill leaves me panting with exertion, soaked with sweat despite the crisp autumn breeze. He wins, of course. It’s hardly even a contest—I’m pretty sure the only reason he didn’t smoke me was that he hung back so we could smack talk each other.

At least, my diversionary tactic seems to have worked, stopping him from mulling over the past by rooting him firmly in the present. We spend a couple hours out on Lake Huron, alternating periods of frantic paddling with long breaks to recover. As much as I enjoy the burn of physical activity, I think those rests are my favorite. Lying back and bobbing in the light waves sent our way by the ferries and other boats, watching theclouds roll across the sky…it makes me feel isolated, but in a good way—like my problems can’t reach me out here.

Eventually, our rumbling stomachs convince us to call it a day. We’re starting a slower-paced paddle toward the rental dock, skimming along near the rocky shore, when Percy says out of nowhere, “My mom used to love kayaking.”

I glance over sharply, my stroke faltering so the paddlethunksagainst my kayak’s outer shell. Percy’s face is pensive, but he doesn’t look as upset as I’d feared. There’s sadness in his expression, sure, but his small smile seems genuine.

“She went out with you a lot?” I venture hesitantly.

“Almost every time.” He chuckles. “She’d come drag me away from my computer, insisting I needed some vitamin D so I wouldn’t be so pale. Dad tagged along sometimes, but it was usually just the two of us. We’d paddle around for hours, taking it slow and admiring the view. And we’d talk. She’d tell me stories about her life, ask how I was doing…”

He sucks in a breath, and tears sparkle on his cheeks. His smile wavers, and with a few quick strokes, I bring my kayak over to his. I try to make the landing soft but only half-succeed, the side of mine careening roughly against his. I grab for the edge of his boat, hoping to stabilize, and almost succeed in tipping us both over.

Percy stares at me, momentarily shocked out of his sorrow. I’ll take the minor victory, but it’s not enough to merely suppress his sadness. I want to show him how grateful I am that he’s opening up to me—to prove I’m not going anywhere and that I’ll be right here if he needs me. So, placing both hands on the side of his kayak, I stretch out of my seat toward him. Both our boats tremble, rocking beneath my unsteady weight.