I need to stop the bleeding.
“Let’s get out of here,” I say to my side before tilting my glass back, draining it and setting it down on the edge of the dining-room table.
I look to Maddy, and she does the same, nodding to me and meeting my stare.
She doesn’t ask where we’re going as I drive back toward the Swim Club, passing it, and continuing on to the only place left that I think might ease the growing hole in my heart.
The sun glints off the rustling leaves as I wind through the country road to Peterson Lake, and it still hasn’t quite set when I shift the car into park and exit, walking around to Maddy’s side in time to take her hand.
She’s wearing a white sundress and sandals, and I’m wearing my dress paints and the button-down shirt I’ve probably worn out by now. As we near the end of the trail, Maddy halts me and pulls her shoes from her feet, her smile hitting my eyes like honey on the tongue. She walks backward, her lip quirked on one side, her fingertips linked with mine as she lures me down to the water, a slight breeze making zigzags along the shallow surface. I kick my shoes off near the edge, and we both stop where the ground becomes wet. I look to the outcropping where our tree still stands.
“They still planning on tearing that down?” I nod toward the rope swing, and Maddy turns to follow my gaze.
She shrugs lightly.
“My mom hasn’t said, but I know they’re looking to put some houses up here,” she says.
I breathe out a short laugh, shaking my head as Maddy turns.
“It all goes away, doesn’t it?” I say.
Her fingertips dance along the tips of mine, and as I look out over the water, I feel her looking at me.
“Not everything,” she says, bending down and picking up a small, flat stone. She opens my palm and sets it inside, wrapping my fingers around it, curling it between us.
My lips tug up at her sweetness. I open my palm and shake the rock down to my fingertips, holding it up and squinting at it with one eye.
“For old time’s sake?” I say.
She holds my gaze, her mouth a smirk.
“You’re on, Hollister,” she says, looking down and holding her hair out of her vision as she scans the water, flipping over rocks with her toes. She finds her perfect stone, then lifts it up for me to inspect.
“Seems heavy to me,” I grimace, baiting her.
Her eyes squint as she rubs her thumb along the rock’s edge, holding it between us.
“That’s you being a chicken,” she says.
“Chickens first, then?” I say.
“Be my guest,” she says, taking a step back, giving me room to throw.
I stretch my arm across my body, still feeling the tightness from racing today, then I glance around the water for the perfect direction. Rocks jut up in some places, so I want the longest runway possible. Cocking my arm back, I look at her one last time.
“What’s the wager?” I ask. “Strip club again?”
She purses her lips and lets her head fall slightly to one side, her eyes narrowing on me.
“Liked it that much, did you?” she teases.
I shrug, laughing hard enough that my chest rumbles. I feel lighter, and I know that’s because of Maddy.
“How about this,” she begins, one eye closing more than the other, her hip shifting her weight to one leg. “You win, I’ll do a swing with you…in my white dress,” she says, one brow quirking up.
My lips pull up in a tight smile, smirking at the visual in my head.
“But I win,” she interrupts my fantasy. She steps closer, looking down at the rock in her hand, shaking it in her palm a few times before glancing back up to me, now inches away from my body. “Then you have to hit eighteen. Saturday. You race like your life depends on it, and you hit that number.”
My breathing becomes ragged and my heart starts to race. What she’s asking for feels impossible, but if I promise her I’ll do it, I’ll find a way. I love her for asking—I love her for challenging.
I wink at her and hold up my opposite hand, waving her to take a few steps back.
“Deal,” I say, cocking my arm and letting my stone fly across the water, skipping five times before finally diving into the depths for good.
My heart is still beating wildly, both because of her challenge that I do the impossible, and because I’ve made it hard for her to win. She’s only skipped a rock more than five times once, and for the first time ever, I want her to win. I think I need that pressure—from her—to pull this off.
Maddy’s eyes stare straight ahead, and her mouth remains unchanged, the hint of a smile still painted on her lips as if she knows a secret that makes her just a little better than the rest of us. She brings her stone to her lips, kissing the flat, harsh edge, then brings her arm back, slinging the rock side-armed along the water.