Page 60 of Fight Or Flight

Ethan shrugged. “It’s home, and I know how to make it better, so I want to. Come on.”

He took her hand and led her past the jungle gyms covered in children, the basketball courts, and the famous Mapleton Beach Bar Patio that was packed with people eating and drinking and soaking up the warm sun. They found an empty spot close to the water in between an older lady on a beach chair under an umbrella reading a novel and a young family with two toddlers digging in the sand. They laid out their towels and took off their sandals.

“Are you hungry?” Ethan asked. “I packed some sandwiches. Hope you like turkey.”

“I love turkey,” she said with a smile and fanned herself with her hand. “But it’s too hot. I want to swim.”

She reached for the bottom of her blue dress and pulled it up over her head, revealing a black bikini with ties at her hips and behind her neck. Then she pulled a hair tie off her wrist and tied her long brown hair up on top of her head. She turned around and took a few steps toward the water, her bikini bottoms doing little to cover her pretty, swaying ass.

“You coming?” she asked.

He looked up at her face, saw she was smiling over her shoulder at him. He should have been sorry for staring at her butt, but he couldn’t untie his tongue enough to offer an apology. Instead, he pulled off his T shirt, jogged to her side, and wrapped his arm around her, tucking her perfectly into his side. They walked into the lake together through the tumbling waves, the smoothness of her warm skin against his in the cool water sent a shot of adrenaline through his heart. He’d had to take deep breaths just to get through it.

They swam for a while together. Ethan led her out to the big sandbar about ten metres from the shore. After swimming, they ate their lunch on the beach, then played catch with the Frisbee before walking hand in hand to the Peach Creamery; an ice cream parlour right on the beach that was known for making delicious, fresh peach ice cream with all-local ingredients.

When the beach had mostly cleared out, and it was well past dinnertime, Ethan reluctantly suggested it was time to go. It was so easy to pretend this moment wouldn’t come, but he knew he was on borrowed time with Natalie. Now that his time was nearly up, the shitty feeling he’d been suppressing started bubbling up from his heart again and seeping into his brain.

He packed up their stuff and, holding hands, walked back to the parking lot, wishing for the millionth time that day that this was just the beginning and not the end. At least he could comfort himself with the fact that Natalie looked as if she was struggling with it, too. When they arrived at Monroe Manor and she got out of the truck, she hesitated.

“Do you want to come in? Have supper with me?” she asked.

Ethan smiled as the knot that had been forming in his stomach untangled slightly. He hated the idea of saying goodbye to her now. It was obviously coming, but he would happily kick this can down the road as long as he could. “Yes.”

He followed Natalie inside to the kitchen where she pulled out a bottle of red wine and a box of Kraft Dinner. “I don’t have much food left, and there’s no point in buying more, since . . .”

Ethan nodded. He didn’t want to hear the end of that sentence. To distract himself while Natalie started the Kraft Dinner, he reached for the remote on the counter and turned on the TV to the local news channel.

“I wonder what happened with the election.”

Natalie grabbed a pot from the bottom cupboard, filled it with water, and put it on the stove just as the commercials ended and the same reporter who had interviewed Anne on the sidewalk that morning came onto the screen.

“In case you’ve missed it, the results are in,” she said. “There’s a new mayor in town.”

Ethan’s jaw dropped as his head snapped toward Natalie. Her skin had already taken on an algae-greenish tinge.

“She lost?”

Ethan nodded. “Looks like it.”

Natalie walked to the dining table and sank down into the chair as the camera cut away from the reporter and landed on Anne standing behind a podium. She cleared her throat and started her concession speech. It was short, to the point. She thanked those who’d volunteered and voted for her, then walked off the stage.

Ethan turned off the TV. He opened the bottle of wine and poured two glasses.

“Here,” he said.

Natalie took the glass but didn’t drink. “Do you think she lost because of me?”

“No. I think she lost because she wants to keep Mapleton exactly the way it’s always been, while her opponent realizes we need to move forward, grow, build.”

“Did you vote for her?”

Ethan shook his head. “There’s something . . . I don’t trust her.”

Natalie’s brows rose, and she opened her mouth, likely to disagree, when her phone started ringing on the table. She picked it up, looking at the number, and reluctantly answered with a drawn-out “hello” that sounded more like a question than a greeting.

Ethan couldn’t make out who the caller was from Natalie’s side of the conversation, only that she wasn’t happy about what she was hearing.

Her eyes went wide, and her mouth opened and closed as if she didn’t know what to say. “What . . . what does this mean?”

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