Page 27 of Singled Out

Rolling to my stomach, I submerged myself, cleansing my face of my salty tears one more time.

I surfaced again, my body spent, my heart thoroughly wrenched. The night sounds filtered back into my consciousness as I calmed myself, pulling myself out of my head and back into the world around me.

For another few minutes, I floated and gazed at the sky, appreciating the physical beauty of it instead of pondering whether our loved ones who died were somehow out there in the ether.

Eventually I called on the dregs of my energy, rolled to my side, and started a slow sidestroke back to the shore.

When I reached water that was waist deep, I submerged again to smooth my hair out of my face, then found my footing on the sandy bottom and stood.

I let out a startled gasp when I discerned a shirtless man standing on the dock in the darkness.

Chapter Nine

Max

Coming outside to make sure Harper was okay was a dumb move.

I knew it the second she stood up in water that reached her lower thighs, treating me to one hell of a moonlit view of her soaking-wet shirt clinging to her generous, tempting-as-fuck breasts.

She was obviously fine, and now I’d have that image of her permanently burned into my brain.

And a reaction in my sweatpants that was hard to hide as I stood here on the dock for the world and God to see.

I walked back to the end of the dock, baby monitor in hand, and stepped down to the sand. “What are you doing out here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” she said. Her voice was lower than usual, a little rough.

“I saw someone in the water and had to make sure it wasn’t a troublemaker or someone in distress.” It’d been drilled into my head at a young age that swimming alone wasn’t safe. Swimming alone at night? Bad idea times two.

“I’m not in distress,” she said quietly, her usual animation missing from her voice. She folded her arms over her chest as if she’d just noticed the wet shirt effect. “I just needed”—she turned partway around and waved her hand toward the middle of the lake—“this, I guess.” Her chest rose and fell with a deep breath, her arms crossed over it again.

Trying to see her face better, I stepped to the edge of the water. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She answered too fast, looking down into her chest instead of meeting my gaze.

I knew tonight had been difficult, but she’d seemed okay when I showed her to her room. She didn’t seem okay now, regardless of what she said.

Harper walked a few paces toward me. I waited on the sand, anticipating her nearness—and the chance to get a better look into her eyes.

I didn’t get that chance, as she stopped several feet out, the water hitting a few inches above her ankles. She turned away and lowered herself to sit on the lake bottom in the shallow water. It felt like a dismissal. I was sure that’s how she intended it.

I stared at the back of her head, her dark hair slicked down her back, glistening from the water. If I went back inside now, I was pretty confident she’d be safe. She’d proven she knew how to swim, and I suspected she wouldn’t stay out here much longer since she’d been on her way in.

The smart choice would be to go back inside, ignore the pull I felt toward her, and mind my own business.

I glanced at the silent baby monitor. Looked up at my darkened bedroom window. It was no contest between heading up to that quiet, lonely room and sitting out here with Harper, convincing her to talk to me, trying to help her feel better somehow. I was intimately familiar with the heartache of losing someone. I couldn’t fix that for Harper, but I could try to be a friend.

After turning up the volume on the monitor so I wouldn’t miss a peep from Danny, I strode over and set it on the paved walkway, pointing it in Harper’s direction, then slipped off my flip-flops and waded into the water. I sat down next to her, trying not to think about my pants getting soaked. They would dry.

Harper looked at me with a startled expression, which confirmed she’d thought I’d do anything but join her.

Now that I was so close, I could tell her eyes were swollen. With her makeup gone, she looked younger. Sad.

“I’m sorry you had a tough night,” I said. “Tough couple of months, probably.”

“Thanks. I’ve kept busy trying to focus on the tasks I had to do to honor her. Everything’s done now. It just…hit me hard.”

“I get that. More than you know.”