Page 12 of The Last Five Yards

Maren’s mouth twitches, just barely. “Maybe it already told us what we needed.”

Dropping her arm down to rest between them, Reese looks at Maren. “You always talk like that, you know?”

“Like what?” Maren shrugs.

“Like there is meaning in everything.”

“Isn’t there?”

Reese lets out a quiet laugh, leaning in just enough for their shoulders to brush. The contact is brief and light, but it sends a pulse through the calm between them.

“You’re something else, you know that Mini-Coach.”

Maren doesn’t pull away. She looks back at the water, the echo of warmth settling slower than the waves as she takes another sip of her coffee with a smile.

The quiet stretches, but it feels easy now, almost natural between them. Reese leans back to rest against the log behind them, eyes still trained on the water’s edge.

“Are you always this serious?” she questions.

Maren glances over at Reese for a moment. “For the most part.”

A soft smile crests Reese’s face. “I figured. I’m the opposite. I probably joke too much and talk too much. Like if I stop talking, my brain will start screaming most days.”

Maren studies her for a moment, the corners of her mouth softening. “I like the quiet. It’s the only time my brain slows down.”

“Wow, that must be nice,” Reese says, tilting her head. “I wouldn’t know what to do if I didn’t have a soundtrack going at all times.”

Maren looks at her, really looks. “You use noise to keep things, people, out.”

Reese laughs, for no other reason than to fill the space. “You caught that one quickly.”

“I pay attention,” Maren says plainly.

For another beat, they both fall silent. The lake stirs; the sound is low and even.

Then Reese smiles again, softer now. “Guess we balance each other out, huh?”

Maren takes another sip of her coffee. “Maybe,” she says with a small shrug, “Coach was right.”

For a long moment, the world feels held between breaths. The waves roll in soft and even, and Maren traces every ripple with her eyes until they all blur together.

Reese shifts beside her, brushing a bit of sand off the blanket. “You want to know something, a dumb secret?”

Maren looks over. “Sure.”

“When I was younger,” Reese starts, “I used to fake nosebleeds to get out of dives I was scared of.” She laughs, but there is a crack in the sound. “I got really good at it too, the pinch, the head tilt, the whole scene. We’re talking about academy-worthy performances.”

Maren doesn’t laugh. “That’s not faking. That’s survival, if you ask me.”

Reese glances at her, like she isn’t used to someone answering that way. “Do you really think so?”

Maren nods. “Being scared doesn’t make you weak. It means you knew enough to be cautious.”

Reese lets out an audible sigh that sounds a little like relief. “You are downright dangerous with that honesty stuff, huh?”

Maren gives a soft chuckle. “Well, you asked.”

“So, what about you? Do you have a deep, dark secret?”