Page 38 of Blindsided
Her laugh is warm and genuine, and something in my chest loosens at the sound. For the first time since reading that letter, I feel like I can breathe properly.
“You know,” she says after a moment, “my friend’s family has this tradition. Whenever something terrible happens, they take a midnight swim in the ocean. They say the cold water washesaway the bad luck.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Are you suggesting we go skinny dipping, Airplane Girl? Because I gotta say, that’s moving a bit fast even for me.”
“Not skinny dipping, you ass,” she laughs, throwing a pillow at me. “Just a quick dip. Fully clothed. To wash away our old selves.”
“It’s freezing outside,” I point out. “And probably even colder in the water.”
“Exactly,” she says, her eyes bright with something that looks dangerously like hope. “That’s the point. To shock your system into remembering you’re alive.”
I should say no. It’s insane to go swimming in the Irish Sea in the middle of the night. But then again, my entire life has just been revealed as a lie, so what’s a little hypothermia in comparison?
“You know what? Fuck it,” I say, standing up. “Let’s go wash away some bad luck.”
Chapter 14
Kori
I can’t believe I suggested midnight swimming, but something about Kane’s lost expression makes me want to do something—anything—to help him feel grounded again. Or maybe I just need to feel something besides the hollow ache in my chest when I think about Mark and Lana.
“We should probably grab towels,” I say, suddenly practical. “And maybe jackets for after.”
I find two large beach towels in the hall closet and hand one to Kane, then pull on a zip-up hoodie over my t-shirt. He watches me with an amused expression.
“What?” I ask, suddenly self-conscious.
“Nothing. It’s just... you’re really serious about this.”
“Of course, I am. Why suggest it otherwise?”
He shrugs. “Most people just talk about doing crazy things. They don’t actually follow through.”
“I’m not most people,” I say, heading toward the door. “Especially not anymore.”
The night air hits me like a slap when we step outside, cold and sharp. The moon is nearly full, casting enough light to see the path leading down to the beach.
“You sure about this?” Kane asks, following close behind me as we pick our way carefully down the steep path. “The water’s going to be freezing.”
“That’s the point,” I say, though my conviction wavers as we reach the sand and I feel the biting wind cut through my clothes. What are we doing? This is insane.
But insanity feels right tonight. My life has already been turned inside out—what’s a little hypothermia in comparison?
We drop our towels on a relatively dry patch of sand near the waterline. The beach stretches empty in both directions, silver-blue in the moonlight. It feels like we’re the only two people left in the world.
Kane kicks off his shoes and socks, then looks at me expectantly. “Ladies first?”
“Coward,” I tease, but I’m stalling too. I toe off my borrowed Wellington boots and peel away my socks, wincing as my bare feet touch the cold sand.
“On three?” he suggests.
I nod, my heart suddenly racing with a strange mix of fear and exhilaration. “One...”
“Two...” he continues.
“Three!” we shout together, and then we’re running toward the water, sand flying beneath our feet.
The first wave hits my ankles, and I gasp—it’s colder than I imagined, so cold it burns. But I don’t stop. I push forward, feeling the water rise to my knees, my thighs, soaking my underwear and sweatpants with icy salt water.
