I look at the three faces looking back at me. “Join you for…?”
“Have you really already forgotten?” Maisey asks in her most Southern drawl. “It’s the Lake Lorelei Raft Race today, and all proceeds this year go to the local Alzheimer’s charity.”
That’s right, my fogged up brain suddenly remembers Maisey talking about this my first night home. The raft race is an annual event with all of the local businesses racing homemade rafts on the lake. It happens during Fourth of July week celebrations every year. The proceeds from entry fees are donated to a local charity, and this year’s charity is one that’s obviously close to my heart and was chosen by Maisey, who sits on the board for the Lake Lorelei Business Council. But, let’s be clear—in no way do I want to end up on a raft in the race.
No. Way.
So why am I bobbing my head up and down like a stunned deer? “Oh, count me in, I’m definitely joining you guys. I can help set up, bring down some food. I’m great at cheering.”
Dylan laughs, her brown eyes sparkling with what I deem as delight in seeing me squirm. “We need another person on the Red Bird raft. Maisey said you might want to do it, and if so, can you be there in an hour?” She winks at me while she hip checks Wyatt, who stands beside her biting back a laugh.
I turn to my aunt who surely won’t want to let me go right now. “I think I’m needed here, but thank you.”
“Oh no.” Maisey crosses her arms in front of her chest as she puts me in her sights. “I need you on that raft more than I need you at the cafe right now. I over-scheduled servers today because of the holiday, so we’ll be good without you.”
Without even looking at him, I know Wyatt is secretly enjoying this moment. He knows I’m not a fan of the raft race and putting me in any kind of competition, well, things can get crazy depending on my mood.
But thisisfor charity.
And, to be completely honest, I’d be a madman if I let him walk away and spend any more time alone with that true-to-life goddess.
So I do what I need to do.
“Well, count me in! Let’s go win a race.”
Always be careful what you wish for. Always and in all ways.
I for one wish I had thought twice before agreeing to get on this splintered piece of broken wood that’s barely being held together by the fraying rope that binds its planks. But seeing as I’m in the middle of the lake, and we’re in first place thank you very much, it’s simply too late now.
Our team representing the Red Bird consists of a few people—Dylan, Wyatt, Jack, and Reid are all from the firehouse. Reid is not only another fireman, but he’s also the son of Pastor Michael and Pat Shannon, and apparently he, like everyone else at that stinking firehouse, is also a part-time Greek god. Where are they breeding these people?
There's also a girl who waits tables part time with us and her daughter named Nikita, a dishwasher named Carlos, and then there’s me. Jack and Reid are on the front of the raft, using their strength to give us a good lead. Wyatt and Dylan are behind them, adding to it with their stamina which, while awesome to watch as they fluidly move in unison, is also nauseating because they look so good together. Carlos is paired with the part-timer at the back of the raft because of their power, leaving me partnered with an eleven-year-old girl in the middle.
I see how I rate.
My big mouth will one day be my downfall. I’m not really great at sports, and the idea of breaking a sweat in the humidity of a July afternoon in North Carolina is not in any way appealing to me. I’m ashamed to admit the only reason I wanted to be a part of this was because I was definitely feeling competitive, but it wasn’t the race that had me so fired up.
I glare at Dylan’s back in silence, but it’s still deafening as far as I’m concerned. If looks could kill, I mean talk, mine would say “get off the raft,” but never mind. I can’t help but watch her move, sheisbalanced right in front of me. It doesn’t help that she is ever so graceful and moves with perfect precision as she slices the water with her paddle—it’s like she’s cutting butter with a hot knife.
Now I’m not unfit, but I’m not the most fit human being. I would call my level of fitness normal, but when I look around at my raftmates it seems I’m the only one who is struggling, huffing and puffing and trying not to havea heart attack. Even Nikita beside me is focused and in her own world, her breathing steady and her gaze set on the finish line.
I hate this kid.
I dig in and take a huge gulp of air, feeling beads of perspiration trickling down the side of my face. I see Wyatt turn his head to sneak a glance back at me and throw a smile my way. Sweet guy, isn’t he, wanting to make sure I’m not clutching my heart and dying as he wins the race. The smile seems to be full of pity, which makes me mad. I may be a hot mess right now, but I do not need pity. I grip the paddle in my hands harder and start chopping at the water like I’m holding a pickaxe. If we’re going to win, I’m going to be an integral part of the team, dang it. I quickly find my groove and slide into a hypnotic rhythm with the team.
As I was paddling something in front of me flashes as Dylan cries out. Looking up, I watch in horror as Dylan’s paddle comes sweeping up out of the water, and, in slow motion, I feel it slap against and connect with my chin. I feel the crack, and my hand flies to my face, expecting to feel a gap where my chin should be. I jump straight up, not thinking, holding my face and screaming in pain. I glance down to find Wyatt and Jack are both yelling at me.
“Sit down, Freya!”
“What are you?—”
I never hear the rest of what they’re saying. Next thing I know, I’m in the air, weightless, then falling head over heels into the water. Hitting the surface, I sink to the bottom, my feet hitting the soft mud that feels like quicksand but is probably just years of duck poop layered on top of itself forming the bottom of the lake. I almost gag underwater at the thought.
I sputter to the surface and take a giant gulp of air. My jawthrobs. Through my pain haze, I think Wyatt’s throwing himself off of the raft, but I’m not sure. I’m swimming in the lake, but I’m swirling in my own embarrassment. My eyes close, the pain is too much. It makes my eyeballs feel like they may burst from their sockets.
In a matter of seconds, Wyatt and his amazing arms are wrapped around me. He threads himself behind me, pulling me on top of him as he slips into a backstroke and heads toward shore. When he gets us safely to the beach, in one graceful motion he manages to sweep me up with one arm to position me so he can carry me with both. Like a superhero, only he’s not wearing a cape. I glance down and realize I’m snuggled right up against Wyatt’s chest, with my head cradled in the nook under his chin.
I don’t want to leave this spot. Ever.
