Page 24 of Red, White, and You

Maybe a little.But I’m not telling him that.

I slip in to join him and the water envelopes me, cooling my skin and washing away any apprehension. Like an old friend’s embrace, it calms me. Centers me.

Like he does.

I drop down, dunking myself completely under water, and when I resurface, I grin and Brady returns my smile.

“You good?” he asks.

“I’m fine.” I’m more than fine; I’m practically vibrating with energy. Less than a minute back in the water and I’m desperate to stand on my skis, the spike of adrenaline in my veins proof of that.

After getting our skis strapped securely to our feet, Brady and I grip the vee handles and steady ourselves in the water, waiting for the boat to pull us into standing positions.

As the boat picks up speed, the ropes grow taut, tense, and the force of the water fights against our bodies. Briefly, we’re suspended between two worlds, but then the boat speeds, lifting us up to the water’s surface.

The world blurs as we skim across the glassy lake, the rush of adrenaline overpowering any lingering doubts. The wind tugs at my hair. I am weightless, unburdened by thoughts of what could be, the demands of my career, or the imminent sadness of goodbye. Carefree and wild, if only for today.

I glance over at Brady, who grins as we ski side by side. It’s as familiar now as it was back then, and I’m struck with how natural it feels to be beside him. Why did I ever let him go? Surely nothing, not even a career, is more important than being by this man’s side.

It’s in that moment of hesitation that I wobble, then lose my balance entirely and crash to the surface. I hear Brady’s voice before my head goes under, but then I quickly push myself up, gasping for air and laughing at my mistake. Brady swims toward me on his back, looking absolutely ridiculous as he fights against his skis.

“I’m fine, Brady,” I call out. “Relax.”

The irony ofmetellinghimto relax is not lost on me and sends me into another fit of laughter. I gulp down a mouth full of water, then sputter as I choke on it.

“Woman, shit,” he says, panting when he finally reaches me. He pulls me back onto his chest, letting his life vest hold up the both of us as if mine alone isn’t enough.

“I’m fine.” I cough a few more times, then relax in his arms as the boat slowly turns around and returns to us.

The water ski instructors haul us both back into the boat, and as I plop back down onto the bench, I feel Brady’s gaze on me.

“I’m fine,” I insist. “Let’s go again.”

Brady’s grin is so bright it gives the sun a run for its money. He motions to the driver of the boat. “Well? You heard her, Randy, let’s go again!”

We spend hours on the lake, skiing and falling, laughing and doing it all over again.

By the time the sun has begun to set over the western mountains, we sit side by side once more, our bodies nowdamp and weary but our spirits renewed. I haven’t thought about work in hours.

My body aches. My limbs are tired.

And my cheeks are sore from smiling.

We’re sunburned, windburned, and exhausted—and I haven’t felt this good in years. As I step into the cabin with Brady at my heels, the sun setting behind us over the lake, I laugh softly and turn around to face him. “I can’t believe you got me on skis again.”

“I can’t believe you doubted yourself.” Brady grins as he closes the cabin door and clicks the lock into place. “You looked good out there.”

“Ifeltgood out there.”

He takes a deep breath and nods. “Good.”

“I won’t be able to walk tomorrow,” I say with a laugh.

“Then don’t. We can stay inside all day.”

The silence stretches out between us as we stand in the middle of the cabin, locked in each other’s gazes. So much to say, so much catching up still to do, but talking about the past only proves how empty it’s been without him, and talking about the future, well…

That’s pointless and painful.

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