Page 19

Summer

Still Water Cove shimmered beneath the early summer sun, stretched out in every direction. The breeze stirred the trees in lazy, rustling waves, but the lake itself barely moved. It just glowed quietly, endless and sure of itself. Everything about this place felt slow and golden.

I was flat on my back, towel spread out on the grass at the edge of the shore, one arm flung over my eyes to block out the brightness. The warmth sank into my chest like it was healing something. My other hand absently tapped against the condensation-slick glass of a water bottle, fingers too content to reach for it. Somewhere nearby, a fly buzzed past and disappeared again.

Then came the splash—loud, sudden, definitely exaggerated.

I didn’t need to look. “Show-off,” I muttered, just loud enough for him to hear.

A beat later, I caught Jaxon’s voice over the sound of water lapping at the rocks. “You’re welcome.”

When I finally dragged my arm off my face, I saw him stepping out of the lake like he’d been born from it. Water streamed down every inch of him, catching the light in all the right places. His skin had gone golden with weeks of sun, his hair soaked and dripping in loose waves across his forehead. His chest rose and fell as he stretched out his arms like he belonged here, like the cove had claimed him years ago and never let go. When he ran a hand back through his hair, droplets scattered everywhere. I half sat up and stared, not even trying to be subtle about it.

“What?” he asked, catching the look I couldn’t quite keep off my face.

“Nothing,” I said, though my voice came out rough around the edges. “Just—fuck you.”

He grinned like he’d won a bet. Then, without asking, he dropped down onto the towel beside me, close enough that the water clinging to his body soaked straight through the cotton and hit my skin like ice.

I flinched and yelped, swatting at him. “You’re a menace.”

He just leaned back on his elbows, smirking lazily up at the sky. “Nah. I’m a gift.”

I rolled onto my side to face him, propping my head on one hand, and just watched him for a while—really watched him. The light danced over the bridge of his nose, the strong line of his jaw, the little scar near his eyebrow I’d kissed a hundred times by now. His lips were slightly parted, chest still rising from the swim, and I felt something inside me catch. It was nothing new. It had always been this way, even when we didn’t have the words for it.

We’d been here before.

Three summers ago, before everything broke open between us. We’d come out to this same lake, sprawled out on towels just like this, pretending not to be watching each other. Pretending not to wonder what it might be like if one of us moved closer. We should have kissed then. Should have fallen into it before the fear caught up with us. But we hadn’t. We’d let it simmer, unspoken and unresolved, until it snapped like a rubber band.

And now, here we were again. But this time, we weren’t pretending.

Jaxon reached over, his fingers brushing mine before finding their place between them. The warmth of his hand was familiar now, not just in temperature but in weight and intention. He held me like he meant it. Like he’d never forget how.

The hours passed that way, slow and soft and sun-drenched, until the day slipped into twilight. The lake darkened, its surface stained with color as the last of the sunlight burned across it. We moved from the towels to the grass, lying on our backs with a blanket beneath us, our legs tangled lazily together. Above us, the first stars pierced through the fading blue.

Jaxon had gone quiet beside me, eyes fixed on the sky, hands tucked behind his head. His expression was peaceful in a way I didn’t see often—unguarded, like whatever war lived inside him had finally called a truce for the night. I shifted, resting my cheek against his shoulder, my hand sliding to his chest, where I could feel the soft rhythm of his heart beneath my palm.

“You know,” I said, my voice low, “I used to think I’d never get here.”

He turned his head just slightly, enough that his gaze found mine. “Still Water?”

I smiled and shook my head. “No. Here. With you. Like this. Not hiding. Not hurting. Not screwing it up.”

Jaxon was quiet for a moment. Then he exhaled, long and slow, like he’d been waiting to hear that. “You didn’t screw it up,” he said. “Not really.”

That surprised me. I gave him a look. “That’s pretty generous.”

He shrugged one shoulder beneath me, his smile faint. “You came back. That’s what matters.”

The silence that followed wasn’t heavy. It was warm. Safe. Like maybe we were finally allowed to breathe in each other’s arms without fearing what came next.

After a while, I rolled fully onto my side, brushing my thumb across his jaw, and looked at him like he was something fragile and sacred and absolutely mine.

“I’m happy, Jax,” I whispered, the words catching in my throat before they landed.

He didn’t speak right away. Just blinked slowly, lips parting like he was trying to hold it together. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I said. “You make me happy.”

His eyes lit up with something I couldn’t name, something raw and open and grateful. Then his hand came up, catching the back of my neck, pulling me in for a kiss that was gentle and sure, full of all the things we didn’t have to say anymore.

When he pulled back, he looked at me like I was his whole world.

“Good,” he said, smiling against my lips. “Because I plan on doing that for a long time.”

Jaxon hopped onto his feet, his torso bare and sculpted like a god’s. He extended his arm down to me, offering me his hand. I’d never taken it so quickly and easily. Pulling me up, he slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me into a warm embrace. “I love you, El,” he said.

“I love you more,” I replied.

Jaxon’s fingers found my nipple in record-breaking time, pinched it, and twisted lightly. “Never say that again, or I swear to God…”

“What are you gonna do about it?” I challenged.

Jaxon looked into my eyes, his gaze intense and focused. “I’ll make you moan and whimper and beg to come, El.”

Heat uncoiled in my stomach and burned right through me. “That…is not a threat, Jax.” And then, “I love you more. I love you more. I love you more.”

He bit his lip against an emerging smile. “That’s it,” he said. “You’re coming with me.”

He didn’t let go of me as we made our way up to the cabin, barefoot and half-dressed, the air cooling just enough to raise goosebumps where the lake water still clung to my skin. Jaxon’s hand stayed wrapped around my wrist, not dragging but leading—gentle, unrelenting. Every few steps, he glanced back at me like he still couldn’t quite believe I was really here, like he needed to keep checking that I hadn’t vanished with the sun.

I hadn’t. I wouldn’t.

The screen door creaked as he pushed it open, and we stepped inside together. The familiar scent of cedar and old pine hit me like a memory—summer sweat, beds pushed close together, the laughter we never got to call ours. The cabin hadn’t changed. But we had.

Jaxon turned to face me, blocking the door from swinging shut. “This still counts as sneaking off to fool around in the dark, right?” he said, a spark in his eyes.

“We’re fully grown men,” I said, stepping in closer until our chests touched. “I think it just counts as going to bed.”

He clicked his tongue. “Where’s the scandal in that?”

I pressed a slow kiss to the corner of his mouth. “Guess we’ll have to make our own.”

He didn’t waste time. The next kiss was full and deep, one hand slipping under the back of my shirt like he couldn’t get to my skin fast enough. His fingers skimmed my spine, and I arched into him, letting the heat rise again. We kissed like we hadn’t been doing it for months already. Like this was the first time. Like the first time should have been—back when we were young and dumb and scared to look too long.

But there was no fear now.

Only want.

Only years of waiting and aching and surviving before finally finding a place to land.

I broke the kiss and backed toward the bedroom, step by step, my hand still tangled in his. “You coming?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You’re really gonna ask me that?”

“Well, someone has to,” I said. “Because if I leave it up to you, we’ll end up fogging up the kitchen windows and traumatizing the deer outside.”

Jaxon grabbed me around the waist and lifted me clean off my feet, my startled laugh echoing through the empty cabin. “I’ll carry you to bed if I have to,” he growled.

But he had to put me back on the floor with a little thud.

“As if you could carry me,” I teased, sweeping him off his feet instead. He was heavy, all sculpted muscles and fine curves of strength, but I’d been carrying him to bed all these months just so.

Jaxon laughed as we neared the large bed, his arms around my neck for support, my arms holding his bare torso and his legs. Before I tossed him onto the mattress, I held him against myself. I held him and looked into his eyes. “Kiss me, my love,” I told him.

Jaxon pulled himself closer to me, his lips brushing lightly over mine, and everything felt right with the world.

This time, we weren’t boys fumbling through shadows, too scared of all the things boiling under the surface.

This time, we knew what we were doing.

And this time, we got it right.

* * *

The End.