Page 88 of Make the Play

It’s the lake again. Always the lake.

The air is too clean, the sky too wide. The lake is frozen solid beneath my skates, perfect and glassy, stretching out in every direction like it’s never going to end.

Then comes the sound.

The first crack is subtle, a faint pop beneath my feet. Then another.

Jordan’s voice, calling my name.

I turn too fast, the ice groaning beneath me. I can see him now, out past the edge, waving me back, yelling something I can’t quite hear. I skate toward him anyway. Always. Every time.

And every time, I fall.

The cold hits first, a thousand fists punching me all over at once. Then the panic. The sinking. The silence.

And then, Jordan grabbing my wrist, his fingers locking tight. Me kicking, screaming, trying to find purchase on a surface that won’t hold me. Him staying in the water too long.

Because of me. Because I was the one who fell.

My lungs burn and my chest aches. I’m underwater again, and I can’t get out.

I can’t get out.

I lurch upright with a gasp, soaked in sweat.

The room is dark and still, but my pulse hammers in my throat. It takes me a second to remember where I am. Takes another to realize I’m not alone.

The sheets shift beside me, and a soft voice cuts through the dark.

“Chase?”

Zoe.

My heart’s still racing like I’ve been sprinting, but her voice pulls me back and anchors me.

Her hand reaches gently for my arm. “You okay?”

I drag in a shaky breath. “Yeah. Just—just a dream. Nothing.”

She hums softly. “Your version of nothing looks a lot like a panic attack.”

Her voice is quiet. No judgment, just concern.

I scrub both hands over my face, trying to wipe the memory away. “Sorry I woke you.”

She shakes her head and shifts closer, one hand finding mine under the covers. Her fingers thread through mine without any hesitation.

“You didn’t.”

She doesn’t ask what it was about. Doesn’t push, just shifts closer again, still holding my hand. Her thumb brushes slowly over the back of mine, her voice low.

“Want me to walk you through one of my weird grounding things?”

I huff out a half-laugh. “You mean some of your witchy woo-woo shit?”

She nods in the dark. “Exactly. You mock, but it works.”

I don’t say anything for a second. Just focus on the way her thumb keeps moving, the way her body is warm and close without crowding me. I could drown in this kind of safety and gentleness.

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