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She thinks about it. “I usually have trouble falling asleep. And when I can’t, I watch these military homecoming videos. You know, the ones when a soldier gets home from months of deployment. Sees his wife, or her husband. Kids. But my favorites are the dog ones. They’re so loyal. They don’t care how long you’ve been gone or resent that you left in the first place; they’re just happy you’re home. I guess I like being reminded there’s that kind of love in the world. Not just hate and jealousy and bitterness. So…yeah. I watch hours of them.”
“You ever have a dog?”
She shakes her head. “No. You?”
“Nope. I like the idea of it, though. One day.”
“Yeah. One day.”
We lie there for a long time before swimming back to shore. I spent most of it wondering whatone daycould look like if we hadn’t grown up on two different sides of Fern Lake. If she hadn’t cheered for Alleghany and I hadn’t played for Glenmont. If she was more open and I was less serious. If we went to the same school.
If our lives were compatible inanyway.
I’m terrible about living in the moment. About not thinking ahead—planning, worrying, wondering. Not contemplating the future.
But right now, I try to. As we jump off the floating dock and start back toward shore, I soak it all in. The smell of summer. The heat of the sun and the glint of rays off the lake. The cool water sluicing off my skin.
The girl swimming next to me.
I memorize it all, and wish it was a moment I could live in forever.
CHAPTERTWENTY-TWO
NATALIE
Lots of swears are running through my head.
I showed up in Camden thinking this would be some variation of a catastrophe. Proof Liam Stevens and I are nothing but a disaster in the making. Instead, it’s been good.
Better than good.
Perfect.
I banked on that outcome more than I realized. I watch Liam toss the wrappers from the hot dogs we ate for dinner in the trash and realize part of mehopedthis afternoon would be some form of a disaster. That we might argue, or I would no longer be attracted to him. We’ve argued—but not about anything serious. And the attraction is still in full force, if the short length of time it took me to come on the dock is any indication.
To keep a short story short—I’m screwed when it comes to Liam Stevens.
The taste of ketchup lingers in my mouth like a sweet tomato as I lean back on my palms. I can feel the sand through the beach towel I brought, the malleable grains shifting with each subtle movement. Light is beginning to drain from the sky, shading everything in shadows that grow increasingly darker. The water moves like a living thing, constantly moving and changing shape.
Knowledge overrides senses. I know where I am—can absorb every sight and sound—but I’m more focused on how it’s affected by his presence. The air smells like summer and my heart feels light. But I know it’s because of the guy walking toward me, not the scenery.
“Close call at the trash bins with a couple of birds,” Liam tells me.
“Thank God you survived.”
He huffs a laugh.
The beach is mostly empty. All the families left a couple of hours ago and the groups of friends are steadily departing as well. There’s enough light to see, but little reason to stay—unless there’s nowhere else you’d rather be.
I uncap the bottle of water I paired with my hot dog dinner and take a long sip.
We should leave too. I know it. I’m sure Liam knows it. But neither of us have voiced it, and it makes me not want to.
I screw the cap back on and toss the half-empty bottle to the side.
There’s something special about dusk. Some magic to the in between, where it’s not quite night but no longer day. Light but nearing dark. One ending and another beginning.
I glance over at Liam, who’s looking out at the water. I trace his profile like there will be a test on it later. There’s an intangible, dreamy quality to this moment, sitting here with him. Peace and ease and everything else that’s comforting to hang onto. Like a Polaroid you pull out to study when you’re feeling sad.
