Hold My Breath(83)

I kiss her back, and I soak up the taste and feel of her, even though I know it’s not enough. I take this for now. I take her kiss, until our lips are raw and our bodies are exhausted. Our eyes are barely able to stay open, and the sunset looms only an hour or two away—our wake-up call to jump into the competitive waters and push our bodies to the max again.

“I know it’s going to take you a while to believe it, and I know our story…it isn’t how these stories are supposed to go,” she says, her face almost panicked. Her lips quiver, and a familiar fear washes across her face, making her pale. I recognize it, because it’s the same anguish that takes away my courage, makes me believe I don’t deserve things. This is where we run. We both do it; when we’re afraid that safety net will be gone—we run.

Please, Maddy…please don’t run from this. I know you feel it.

I hold her head in my hands, my forehead against hers, and I let myself beg for it. Because I need to hear it. I don’t think I can come back from this now—I’m too far gone.

“Please,” I whisper.

“I love you, Will Hollister,” she says, and I let my lips dust hers just at the sound of those words.

“It has been forever, Maddy. That’s how long,” I say against her skin. “I have loved you…forever.”

I pull away just enough to look her in the eyes.

“I loved the idea of your brother,” she says. “And the safety that came along with letting myself fall for him. But my love for you is deeper than that. It’s the real kind of love. It’s not about ideas or fantasies. It’s just something my heart can’t help. And I know with every single beat of it that whether Evan cheated or not, I’m with the man I was truly meant to be with. My story with Evan—it doesn’t matter. This is the only story that does. Our story.”

My body is exhausted, and my eyes fight to stay focused on her angelic face, but I do just long enough to tell her I love her more. I say the words a dozen times—a dozen different ways. I could never say it enough, and I don’t think I’ll ever grow tired of hearing how those words sound falling from my lips to land upon her ears.

“I love you so much, Maddy, and I’m going to win. I’m going to win for you, and f*ck anything else.”





Chapter Nineteen





Maddy





We’re not the only ones dragging. Amber and the guy she brought with her last night, Nick—they’re dragging, too. We’re all slightly pissing my father off because with a key meet staring us down in days, dragging does not make for much winning.

It’s temporary, though. I think maybe after the failed interview and my refusal to answer my father’s phone calls, or come home for the last twenty-four hours—my dad is starting to realize that his best shot at turning around the sinking ship that is this Swim Club might just be riding on the shoulders of the only star swimmer not dragging in the pool this morning. Of all of us, Will should feel pressure the most, but this morning it’s like he woke up a new man.

Reinvigorated.

Hungry.

Driven.

My father’s routine with him is the same. He tells him he’s done well, offering praise for his turns, his starts, his strokes. The difference today, though, is Will tells him “it isn’t good enough.”

We have one more set of sprints, and my father is pairing us. It doesn’t matter much who he pairs Will with, because I know anyone is going to lose—I will lose. But I know that if anyone is going to push Will the hardest, it’s me.

Nick steps up on the blocks next to Will, but I nudge him before he gets set.

“Let me have a crack at him,” I tease, winking at Will. He smirks at me, but pushes his goggles to his face tighter, dangling his arms, his shoulders rippling and his back muscles flexing as he leans down.

“Bring it, Woodsen,” he says out of the side of his mouth.

I glance to the other end of the pool, my father’s weight leaning on one foot, ankles crossed and clipboard tucked against his chest. He isn’t amused—he thinks I’m goofing off, not taking this seriously. But my mom showed up today, and a quick look at her face tells the opposite story. Her arms are crossed over her chest, but she’s smiling. It’s the same face she used to make when me and the Hollister boys would race as kids—prideful.

“Go on the sound,” my father shouts, his words short and his tone un-amused.

The timer clicks off, beeping to signal go, and Will and I fly into the water. His jump on me is almost a body’s length by entry, but I make up some ground with my powerful strokes. I put in two for every one and half of his, grabbing hold of the wake left behind his feet in the lane next to me. I push with my head down, not breathing but once, and only to fuel my arms to continue the frantic pace I’m putting them through.

I feel his water slide past me, the rush of his kick leaving me in the dust, the water calming, but a stroke later my fingers hit the wall.

My father is staring at his stopwatch, and my mother is hooting with her arms in the air. I glance to Will, and both of us tug our caps from our heads. We smile from the rush of speed, but Will’s eyes are crinkled in a confused look as he moves closer to the ropes.

I’m about to ask him how that felt when I feel my mom’s hand rest on top of mine at the edge of the deck. I turn to see her knelt down near us, an open-mouthed smile plastered on her face and pushing her eyes wide and high.