Page 72 of Unhinged Love

“You’re okay,” he reminds me with a light laugh. “It feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, once you get used to it.”

“Wow. It almost sounds like you agree with me. I’m not sure what to think.”

“Please, stop talking,” I whisper. I come to a stop once the water is over my boobs. “I don’t wanna go any further. I just want to stay here.”

“That works.” He folds his arms on the edge of the pool, facing the patio. “Try this. Do what I’m doing.” As I watch, he slowly lowers himself into the water until his head is under the water for just a second before he comes back up.

“No way.”

“You can do it,” he tells me. “This is how kids learn how not to be afraid of the water. It’s how they build confidence.”

“Good for them. I’m not trying to overcome any more today. This is enough.”

“I still think it would be easier for you to get comfortable.”

And I think it would be easier for me to get through my life without him acting like he knows me so well. I settle for folding my arms on the edge, closing my eyes, feeling the water gently lap against my skin as Carter moves around. It’s sort of nice.

“This one time, I was in my friend’s pool,” he announces out of nowhere. “I had to pee really bad.”

“Oh, seriously?” Is he really going to tell me this story? “You peed in your friend’s pool?”

“No. I’m not an animal. I would never pee in somebody’s pool.”

“Oh. Well, that’s good.”

“I got out,” he explains, kicking slowly, almost lazily. I can’t help but notice the water droplets that land on his smooth back and shine in the sun. “And I started walking to the house. Only I waited too long, and I couldn’t hold it, so… I peed on the patio.”

“Oh, my god.”

“And then, when his mom noticed, she thought the dog did it.”

“And I guess you let her believe that,” I conclude, and he nods. “How old were you?”

“Maybe eight or nine.” I don’t think it’s the sun that has his cheeks flushed. He wears a sheepish grin when he adds, “As far as I know, they never figured it out.”

“Either that, or they always knew it was you, and you’re the kid who peed in their backyard that one time.”

“Oh, fuck,” he groans. “This is what I get for sharing a story.”

“Sorry.”

“I don’t think you are, really.”

I shouldn’t, but I can’t help giggling. “You’re right. I’m not, really.”

“Finally, a little honesty.” He creeps a little closer, nudging me with his elbow. “I really am proud of you, you know. I mean it. You’re brave for getting in the water like this.”

“I don’t feel very brave right now,” I have to admit. “I feel scared, and I hate that I feel scared.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being scared when the whole world has shoved fear down your throat your whole life.”

There’s a truth to what he says that slowly starts to sink into my bones. It started all the way back when I was little, and I never knew what to expect from Mom’s boyfriends or from Mom herself. She did a lot more partying back then, out with her friends, meeting guys and bringing them home. Trying to fill up the emptiness inside her.

I have known fear all my life. That has to eat away at a person, right? It has to change their DNA.

I don’t have to let it win—the fear. I might not have had any choice in how it ended up ruling my life, but I have a choice whether I want to let it keep ruling me.

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