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“We jump! Farthest from the swings is the champion.”
“I’m taller than you.”
“I know. Hence your long-legged conundrum.”
“I may go farther than you.”
“If you’re trying to discover if I am a sore loser or not, the answer is no. I am very graceful in defeat. Which is quite impressive, seeing as how I am so rarely defeated.” On the next pass, I give Cole a wink and am rewarded with a delicious chuckle.
“Fine. Who should jump first?”
“Same time. Count down from three.”
He does, and at the go mark, I release my grip on the chains, letting gravity and acceleration have their way with me.
Cole lands first, falling to his knees and pitching forward onto his hands, barely keeping himself from face planting.
I am not so lucky.
I should have had the perfect landing, feet under me, balance the envy of all gymnasts. But the ground in the park is soggier than I expected. A huge clod of mud and grass dislodges under one of my feet, sending me toppling to the side. My shoulder catches my fall in a bruising impact, and I slide a few inches, gathering dirt and grass stains as I go, finally coming to rest by collapsing onto my back.
“Summer? You okay?” Cole’s face appears above mine, his mouth twisted in concern.
For some reason, I focus on how the setting sun glints off the barbell that bisects his brow. The piercing glows as if lit from within. Or maybe the decoration holds a little trace of magic.
“Did that hurt?” I reach up, the tip of my finger only just touching the surprisingly warm metal. Of course it’s warm; it sits against his skin all day.
Cole’s eyelids flutter when I come into contact. I let my hand fall, worried I’m paining him with my examination.
“Just a pinch when I first got it. Everything is healed now. What about you? Are you hurt?” His Icelandic eyes trace over my body, dragging a shiver with them on their journey.
“I’ll have a few bruises. Did I win?”
After one more visual examination, Cole seems satisfied that I’m not bleeding out in the middle of a children’s playground, and he smirks down at me.
“Yes.”
An answering smile tugs at my lips. “You’re not lying to make me feel better, are you?”
Cole snorts. “I landed the farthest, but you slid further. We’ll have to leave it up to the judges.” Then, instead of helping me up, my library patron turned surprisingly supportive friend flips over onto his back and settles onto the damp earth beside me.
The ground isn’t the most comfortable, but with Cole next to me, our arms pressed close, a tease of calm snakes through my veins. My sadness still lurks just under the surface of my skin, but the urge to cry has faded.
Fourteen years. My father has been absent from my life for longer than he was part of it. I don’t know what it’s like to be an adult with that supportive presence.
“Do you have a good relationship with your father?” I ask my question without looking at Cole, wanting to give him a sense of privacy when he answers, in case he saysno.
“It’s good. In a way.”
“You’re making me curious, so if you don’t want to talk about it, I ask that you use less elusive, tempting answers.”
There’s a huff from him that I think might be some sort of laughter. Then Cole clears his throat and says more words than I think I’ve ever heard him speak at one time.
“My mom left him when I was younger. She left us. He had to raise me on his own. That meant working more hours to make sure we had enough money. I see that now, that’s why he was always gone. But when I was a teenager, I thought he just didn’t want to be around me since I look like her. So, like most surly teens, I got into some bad shit.”
Bad shit. Bad boy. But he’s not being badright now.
When Cole pauses, I turn my head enough to watch him swallow, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement. As I’m considering whether or not I should ask, he makes the decision for me by continuing his story without prompting.
