Inching across the driveway in my bare feet, I held out my hands and went slow, careful for any equipment or cars.
But as I walked, I felt the draft and spray of what felt like waterfalls, and then suddenly, the pavement changed to something else under my toes, and I stopped. Dipping my foot out a little more, I felt water spill onto my feet and a granite floor underneath—no bowl or pool where the fountain was collecting. Simply a massive slab of ground. Maybe with drains?
I stepped in, my heart pounding as I held out my fingers, grazing the towers of water around me.
My mouth went dry, trying to puzzle this together. What was this?
I stepped on a spout, the water spraying everywhere and splashing me, and I sucked in a breath, getting a little wet.
But I kept going, tracing the spouts with my toes as I walked and finding a path. I kept my arms out at my sides, my fingers tracing the water and where it created walls and turns, coming to dead ends and veering around corners. The water shot up well above my head, and as I rounded the paths, finding little alcoves and hiding places, my sleep shorts and top stuck to my body and my hair grew cold and wet down my back.
I closed my eyes, my throat swelling as I mapped the water, gauging the huge circle and all the spouts inside creating this intricate wonderland of nooks and avenues, and I…
Oh, my God.
Tears pooled, realizing. He hadn’t taken away the fountain. He’d replaced it.
My eyes stung.
It was a fountain maze.
I stood there in the center, towers of water shooting up and spilling around me as the tears started to fall. Hiding me in a world within a world.
Just like his fountain growing up.
Just like the treehouse.
Damon, what did you do?
My head fell back, and everything crumbled. My heart, my head, my hate, and my grudge, and I just wanted to see him. To feel him and put his forehead to mine and feel him breathe. To have him pick me up and hold me in here, where the water and the walls were high enough to hide us.
I loved him. I still loved him.
Goddamn him.
I cried, the music inside the ballroom drifting out through the window, and I ran my hand through my hair, everything inside just wanting out. I was tired of stopping myself. Of spending more time resenting than getting on with it.
I wanted to fight and scream and laugh and smile and kiss and taste and wrap my arms around him more than I could stomach never feeling him again.
I closed my eyes, starting to spin as Lana Del Rey’s “Dark Paradise” drifted out of the ballroom through the open window, and I swept my leg, arched my back, and shot up on the ball of my foot, dancing and twirling as the music filled me up and took me over. My arms sliced through the water, splashing and whipping the spray, and I danced and danced and danced, running my hand over my stomach, my drenched hair flying around me and sticking to my face and body.
To dive and fall.
To have a lifetime of searching for something.
Or to have five minutes of everything.
I slowed as the music ended and stopped, the chill of the water seeping into my bones, but I felt awake for the first time in years. I was alive.
I wanted it. I wanted it all.
I pushed my hair out of my face and over the top of my head, breathing in so deep, because my lungs felt so much bigger all of a sudden.
“Winter?” someone called.
Crane.
I walked across the fountain maze, smiling through the towers of water and smoothing back my hair as I made my way to the edge, following his voice.
“Where is he?” I asked.
Crane was silent a moment, and then said, “Occupied at the moment. Would you like me to give him a message?”
Occupied.
Okay. If he wanted to play, let him come find me then.
I was ready.
“Let him know that I’ll be going to the Throwback at The Cove tonight with some friends,” I told Crane. “So he doesn’t send out the hounds.”
“And you’ll be home by eleven?” he demanded more than asked.
But I just cocked my head, unable to hide the small smile he had to know was pure mischief. “Of course.”
Throwback Night was organized by some of Thunder Prep’s alumni as one last hoorah at The Cove before it was sold off, rumors flying for a while now that several investors were interested in redeveloping the property. Back in the day, this was a theme park—rides, roller coasters, fun houses, and games—and mostly everything still stood here, abandoned for years, having been dark since we were kids. I remember coming here once when it was still active.
The sea air breezed through the park as the music blasted and partygoers laughed and shouted, their excitement to go back to when we were high schoolers palpable. Most of them were in college or beyond now, although there were some current students of Thunder Bay about tonight, and I kind of dug feeling the old uniform on me again, not having worn it since I was sixteen. Before I fled town to go back to Montreal.
As part of the party theme, we were requested to don our uniforms in keeping with the school spirit. Unfortunately, my body has grown and developed a bit more since then, so I’d asked Rika if she had an extra skirt and shirt from her senior year, still able to use my old necktie with no problem.
“Come on, dance!” Alex pulled my arm.
I laughed, taking hers instead and letting her lead me out to the dance area where the DJ spun music up off to my right. Michael and Erika were here somewhere, Kai and Banks were on their way, Will had said, and I hadn’t heard from Damon, although I left my phone in Will’s car, so I wouldn’t know if he’d tried to call anyway.
People bumped into me, and I couldn’t see the space around me, so I kind of just stood there, unsure about this kind of dancing in front of others. I’d slow danced at school events before, but this was different.
“I can’t dance with a crowd,” I shouted over the music. “I’ll smack someone in the face.”
“I gotcha,” Will came in behind me, wrapping his arms around my waist and swaying both of us back and forth. “You can dance with me.”
Which I’m sure was just an excuse to put his hands on something.
I reached behind me, patting him on the cheek. “A true knight.”
“See, she gets it,” he joked, probably to Alex.
I heard her laugh.
I felt a little more confident with him holding onto me, and we moved, our bodies in sync to the beat of the music.
“Misha!” I heard him call to someone. “Hell yeah. Didn’t think you’d be here.”
“Hey, man,” another guy said, approaching.
Will stopped dancing but still held onto me, reaching over my shoulder for one of those handshake-hug things men did.
“Wow, you look like shit,” Will told him.
“They said to wear school clothes,” the guy retorted. “I was always out of uniform back then, so this is it.”
Will’s chest shook at my back.
“Winter, this is my cousin Misha Lare,” he said. “A couple years behind you in school, I think.”
I held out both my hands, taking his and shaking it. I knew the name. He was younger, though, so we didn’t cross paths.
“And his girlfriend, Ryen,” Will introduced her like she was an annoying little sister.
“Hi, Winter,” she said.
I smiled, following her voice. “Hi.”
“Come on, Ryen,” Will prodded. “Wouldn’t you have loved to see Misha in his uniform tonight?”
“You look like all the frat boys I’ll warn my daughters about when they go to college,” she griped.
Misha snorted, and Will laughed.
“You guys dating?” Misha asked, and I guessed he was talking to Will and me.
“No, man. She’s Damon’s.”
“Damon Torrance’s?” Misha said it like he was spitting out food.
Will tightened his hold. “I know, right?”
“I’m not Damon’s.” I shook my head.
“Yeah, she is,” Will shot back.
I didn’t want to be talked about like I was property. That kind of conversation was fine in private, but Misha’s tone definitely relayed that he had an opinion about Damon. And not a positive one. He didn’t know me. I didn’t want him drawing conclusions.