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“Come on, Lake.” My heart pounded. I’d warned her about the water. “I’m not messing around. You don’t know what’s in there.”
“Fish?” She smiled at me over her shoulder. My gaze, the water, her hair, it all moved with her as she glided deeper. When the waterline touched her hips, she pulled one arm through a sleeve and then the other.
I stood paralyzed as she took off her top. It was clumsy, drawn out, long enough for me to tell her to stop. She threw it a few yards from my feet. I went and picked it up, a scrap of fabric that’d been a necessary barrier between us. She had this white, strappy bra thing on and, thankfully, enough long blonde hair to hide her breasts, not that there was much to cover.
I couldn’t look away. I couldn’t move.
I ran a hand through my hair, trying to decide what to do. I had a lot of self-control, but I didn’t want to test it by taking off my pants. It wouldn’t look good to show up back at camp in wet jeans, either.
Lake kept going. Her hair started to disappear under the surface, pieces of it plastering to her back. The memory scraped across my brain like nails on a chalkboard. Maddy—limp, soaked, sheet-white—her wet hair sticking to my forearms and knees as I’d pulled her from the water into my lap.
I tried to call Lake back. The words came out strangled. I took off my shoes and socks. Tossing her shirt with her shorts, I walked right in. The cold water bit, but she couldn’t get any farther from my reach.
She skimmed her forearms back and forth over the surface as she blinked up at the sky, a small smile on her lips. “Show it to me again. Summer Triangle.”
“No,” I clipped. When either of us moved, the water echoed in the otherwise dead-quiet. “I know what you’re doing. I don’t . . . you think I want to go back?” I asked. “I don’t, but we have to.”
She turned on me, her euphoric expression replaced with frustration. “Why can’t you just stop being an adult for a minute?”
“Because I am the adult. One of us has to be.”
She closed her mouth, her jaw tight, and dove headfirst into the water.
The lake swallowed her without even a burp. She disappeared completely. I took a step. Then another. I couldn’t see her. Couldn’t see anything but a ripple here and then there, near and then far. I turned in circles, heat rising up my chest while my legs froze, my breath getting short. “Lake?” I raised my voice. “Stop it.”
I tried to push Maddy out of my mind. This wasn’t the same, Lake was just having fun. But Maddy’d been so alive when I’d last seen her and just minutes later, completely lifeless. The image had haunted me so long, was always waiting in the back of my mind, even during the best of times. I’d had to put my mouth on my sister’s and feel nothing, breathe into nothing.
Seconds ticked by. My lungs wouldn’t expand. I would’ve gone in after her if I’d had any clue where she was. She’d been under at least ten seconds and could’ve swum anywhere. “Lake,” I yelled, angry. I thrust my hands under, grasping for anything. Something slippery brushed against my leg. “Goddamn it. Lake!”
She popped up five feet from me, giggling, the slight moon turning her into a glittering, fluorescent mermaid.
“What’s gotten into you?” I asked. Rage vibrated every bone in my body. “Do you have any idea how dangerous it is out here?”
She floated on her back, unapologetic, teeth chattering. “I know you wouldn’t let anything happen to me.”
It shook my confidence, hearing that. She thought I could save her. The truth was, if I wanted to or not, I couldn’t protect her from everything. Especially not this. But to explain why, I’d have to bring her into a memory I never shared if I could help it. I’d already had to recount it enough times to the police and jury to break any man.
She spread her arms. Her tits poked through the surface, two white, wet, cotton peaks pointing to the stars. My hands shook, my body, too. Seeing how calm and open she was, my instinct was to go to her, to say fuck it for one night. Lake wasn’t as confident as she pretended to be. Her inexperience showed in her every move. One touch, and she’d dissolve into a trembling mess. Wouldn’t it be best if that first touch came from someone who cared? Who’d worship her? I knew what I was doing, when to be gentle and when to not, and I would do it at her pace.
I’d been trying not to see her since I’d returned her bracelet. As a child, I’d been warned by my mom against looking directly at an eclipse. I feared the same was true for Lake. How did I come off to others when I looked at her? As captivated as I felt? Adoring? Enamored? I didn’t want to be looking at her that way. Someone could notice. People became suddenly more perceptive about these things—a grown man intently watching a young girl. Especially one like Lake, who was on the verge of beautiful.
