Page 67 of A Whisper of Cinders

I try to let go of the fear of drowning and try to shift to believing I can swim, repeating it as a mantra inside my head. Muscle memory seems to kick in and my legs make fluent movements. “Yes! That’s it!”

After a couple of minutes of only moving my legs, Aramis decides it is time to let me go. “Do you remember how to move your arms?” I stand up on my tippy toes, move my arms in a chest stroke and I swim forward.

My legs and arms are out of sync for sure, and one time, my head dips beneath the surface. Aramis is on me in a heartbeat, hands on my waist to lift me up. Some of the water has run into my lungs and I cough violently.

“Shit, I’m sorry Mai, I should’ve —”

I grab his hand to stop him from speaking. “No, it’s fine. I’m good, I promise.” My voice is a little hoarser from the coughing, but I don’t mind. I am fine.

I let go of his hand and start again. The first few lengths are a little uncertain and it takes a while for me to swim coordinated, but eventually I get it right. Aramis encourages me to follow him.

And although I am not as fast as he is, each move becomes more fluent. He suddenly disappears under water and as I swim in circles around myself, panic starts to grow inside of my chest. What if he’s hit his head on a rock and sunk to the bottom of this lake? I won’t be able to save him. “Aramis?”

But out of nowhere, his head pops up, sending a wave of water over me. I smack him on the arm. “You idiot! I thought you drowned.”

“Worried about me now, gorgeous?”

“Of course I was!”

He smirks and I swim away towards one of the alcoves in a fake-angry gesture. He catches up easily, taking my hand to stop me and I lose balance for a moment. He holds my waist tight, keeping both of us above the surface as my hands land on his shoulders.

“Don’t be mad. I think it’s cute.”

“I’m not and it’s not cute.”

“Oh, but it so is.”

His mouth disappears under water and he releases a small stream of water nearly on top of me. “Hey!”

Suddenly he lifts me up so I’m seated on the alcove. His hands land on either side of me and he pushes himself up, hovering mere inches in front of me. Dear lord, have mercy.

“You don’t like getting wet?”

My heart stumbles. His pupils are so dilated, I can barely see any of the calming green that is normally there. I lick my lips and watch as his eyes follow the movement. “I think I do.”

He lifts an eyebrow. “Do you, now?”

My core clenches. We are so not talking about the water anymore. We stare into each other’s eyes and something shifts between us. His thumb touches the outer part of my knee and shivers crawl up my leg. And although heat rushes through me, my body tenses.

I leap into the water letting it cool my heated cheeks. Deciding we’ve done enough swimming for the day, I make my way back to shore. The loud splash I hear behind me announces Aramis does the same, but I don’t look back.

I reach the sandy stroke first and as soon as solid ground touches my soles, I fall into the sand, feeling a little dizzy. My sight flows like the waves do, as if I’m still in the water.

I close my eyes, but that only makes it worse and when I open them again, Aramis holds up a towel for me. I wrap it around my shoulders, thanking him. He sits down next to me, close enough that I feel the coolness waving off of him, but our skin doesn’t touch.

“Maily…can I ask you something?”

He’ll probably ask why I recoiled, what should I say? That I’m scared? That I’m not sure if I’m ready for whatever may come next? That he is way out of my league and —

“Sure.”

“You have scars…your back…” He sighs and moves to sit in front of me. There is nowhere else to look and my heart stops. The fact that he isn’t asking about the other scars that cover nearly every inch of me is wildly appreciated. But that doesn’t mean I want to talk about the ones that are carved on my back. “Who did this to you?”

I cringe. I can’t help it. I don’t want to have this conversation, not now, not ever.

A finger under my chin gently tilts my head up. “Who hurt you?”

There is compassion in his eyes, but also anger. Not at me, but at the one who did it to me. The one that caused me so much pain. The one that tried to break me over and over again, but failed no matter how hard he tried.