I stared at the wall, watching dawn creep across the textured paint, pale streaks dissolving shadows, while my pulsehammered against my ribs. Marcus shifted closer in his sleep, his fingers trailing unconsciously along my side—a featherlight touch that reeked of casual intimacy.
My throat tightened. A lump formed, raw and unmovable, as if those three words had taken on substance, filling space I didn't know I had available. I swallowed against it, trying to force it down, but it stayed there, stubborn and solid.
"Your brain's running a marathon," he mumbled against my shoulder, voice rough with sleep.
I blinked, trying to find refuge in logic. "That's physiologically impossible."
Marcus didn't comment. Instead, he shifted his position, sliding his palm across my chest until it landed right over my racing heart. His touch grounded me. "Want to argue the evidence?"
I rolled toward him. His face was softer now, stripped of the sharp edges he wore for protection during the day. His eyes were half-lidded, his hair a mess, and dense stubble dusted his jaw. This was Marcus without walls.
Those three words crowded my throat. They perched there, trembling on the edge of escape. I sensed them pressing against my teeth, begging for release.
Fear held them back.
So, instead, I let my fingers trace the line of his jaw, savoring the rasp of whiskers against my skin. It was a brief indulgence.
"Things to do," I insisted, forcing myself upright. The sheets fell away, cool air rushing against my skin, but nothing could chase away the heat burning in my chest.
I knew that if I stayed in bed, I'd say it. And once spoken, there would be no taking it back.
I didn't look at Marcus as I headed for the shower, but his gaze lingered—not demanding, just there, like gravity. The bathroom door clicked shut behind me.
I pressed my forehead against the cool tile, breath ragged, and let the ache hollow me out from the inside, wishing the water could wash away the words I was too afraid to say.
***
Lake Washington stretched before us, a vast expanse of slate and emerald beneath the morning mist. The water's surface rippled with hidden currents, each small wave a reminder of depths I'd spent decades avoiding. The copper taste of fear crept onto my tongue.
Marcus moved with practiced efficiency beside me, stripping down to his training gear. He'd made peace with water years ago. He'd shared with me his own fraught memory of nearly drowning as a child, but somehow, he conquered it by immersing himself in training.
"You ready?" I asked.
He shot me a grin, quick and sharp. "Born ready."
He jogged into the shallows without hesitation, cutting through the surface with a clean dive that barely disturbed the water. For him, it was effortless. Natural as breathing.
My heart slammed against my ribs—not from the childhood memory of hands holding me under or the bone-deep cold waiting in the lake's depths. The terror stemmed from standing still while Marcus moved forward. From the possibility of letting fear defeat me one more time.
Before I could overthink it, I bent down and unlaced my shoes. The concrete sidewalk was rough against my bare feet as I took that first step toward the water's edge.
Ice shot through my legs as the water lapped at my ankles. Every instinct screamed to retreat, but I forced another step. Then another. The water climbed higher, drenching my jeans—calves, knees, thighs. My pulse roared in my ears, drowning outeverything except the mantra in my head:Keep moving. Keep breathing. Keep going.
Marcus swam closer, stopping where the water hit his waist.
"You good?" he asked, voice carrying across the water.
I sucked in a breath that tasted of lake water at dawn. "Not dead yet."
His smile softened, something warmer slipping through the cracks. He moved closer, the water rippling around him, gentle and patient. "Pretty low standard there, Doc."
A broken laugh escaped me as I managed another step forward. The water pressed against my thighs, cold enough to steal my breath, but I remained upright. Still breathing.
"You don't have to prove anything," Marcus said softly.
I shook my head, muscles trembling from more than just the cold. "Not proving it to you."
His eyes met mine, open and unguarded, and for a moment, the water wasn't the only thing pulling me under. Our history lay just beneath his gaze, things unsaid pressing between us.
