Hold My Breath(28)

My lips pinch in as I fight against my smile, eventually giving in and grinning.

“I hope so,” I say, walking around the table and kissing my mom’s cheek when she gives it to me. “Try not to piss off too many lobbyists today.”

She groans and turns her attention back to the pile of documents, and I run my hand along the table’s edge as I head to the door. My father and I pass one another, and he stops on the stoops as I rush past him, his arms folded across his chest and his keys dangling from his thumb.

“Don’t worry. I’m going to swim. Always getting faster,” I say, waving over my shoulder without turning around.

My dad’s not as forgiving as my mom, and if he was here when we came home, he probably has a good visual on how off my game I was. As long as I don’t let any of that carry over in the pool, he’ll get over it. I just need to avoid talking about it until he sees me swim again.

I get to my car and don’t look his direction until I can see him in my rearview mirror. He’s still standing in the same spot, one hand on the side of his face. We haven’t been coach and athlete in a while. When I went to Valpo, my dad let them take over the reins completely. He said it was good for me, and he was right. But now we’re both in this position where we need to navigate back to those old roles, only we’ve both changed a lot since the last time we were in them. My father has to think about more than just me. I have to think about myself. We’re both still trying to figure out what’s in the middle.

I flip through a few radio stations, settling on the local news on my way to the club. Every song makes me think of something, but local sports and traffic seems to empty my head, and that feeling is welcomed. Will’s car is in the same place it was last night, and Amber’s car is gone. I pull up to park next to Will, but I wait with the air running, my eyes glazing over as I stare at the weeds and brush along the gravel drive.

One thing became abundantly clear last night—Will’s company makes me feel just a little bit better. It’s also the reason I feel worse, but the scales seem to balance somehow when he’s around. I missed him. I missed us.

Taking in a deep breath, I force myself to step from my car, unlock the clubhouse doors, and climb the steps to the office area. I’m quiet as I pass Will’s door. The office one is wide open. My heart jumps when I see Duncan at the desk, but not enough to cause me to gasp or scream. I knock softly on the doorframe to get his attention, and he looks up, dropping his eyepiece into his palm when he sees me.

“Maddy, hello,” he says, smiling and rolling out the chair so he can step closer to me. He reaches for my hand with his free one, and when he grasps it, he squeezes nice and hard. “What a nice surprise. I hope you don’t need the office. The light in there wasn’t bright enough, and I’m so close to getting this damn pocket watch to work again.”

“No, no. I came for Will, actually,” I say, shaking my head lightly at the sound of my admission.

Duncan’s expression softens and his head falls to the side with his smile.

“It’s nice to see you two reconnecting,” he says.

A heaviness hits my chest with his word choice, but I shake it away with a quick breath.

“Yeah…he was always a good friend,” I say.

Our eyes lock for a few seconds, and I squirm a little, feeling as though he’s studying me…reading me.

“He’s awake. Watching some movie or something. Go on in,” he says eventually, his eyes still narrowed enough that I feel exposed, like he knows more than I do about me.

“All right,” I smile, my cheeks suddenly red.

I turn my attention back and forth from Duncan to Will’s door, the old man watching me all the way. I’m half expecting Will to pop out and scare me and them both to have a good laugh over it.

I knock lightly.

“Go on in. Really. He’ll just think you’re me knocking,” Duncan says, waving his hand forward. Pushy old man!

I nod, twisting the knob and pushing the door open slowly. Will’s leg is slung over the couch, and I can see his messy hair tussled in all directions, peeking out from the top of the armrest.

“You hungry for some lunch?” His voice sounds groggy, and I think maybe he’s been napping.

“Duncan said I could just come in,” I say.

Will sits up quickly, his head popping up and looking over the back of the sofa. He’s watching some old car-chase movie, muscle cars squealing around tight corners on the TV screen.

“Hey,” he croaks.

I hunch my shoulders, a warm feeling crawling up my neck the longer he stares at me.

“I wanted to see if maybe…you wanted to swim?” I ask.

He continues to stare at me before shaking his head and running his hand through his wild hair. He twists on the sofa, his hand searching for the remote and finally pointing it to the TV to turn it off as he stands.

“Swim…uh…yeah. Sure, I could get some work in. Just…” he babbles, spinning in place and pacing, as if he’s trying to somehow make this space he’s in look better. As if he needs to impress me with the spare room my family’s put him up in.

“I wasn’t thinking laps, really. More…” I pause, pulling the photo of me and him on the rope swing from my back pocket and holding it out for him to take. When he grabs it, I move my hand to my forehead, instantly embarrassed that I’m suggesting it.