Hold My Breath(98)

I rest my weight back again, watching the peach-colored clouds shift to white, the sky around them growing more and more vivid in its blue. It’s going to be cold today, with more snow maybe tonight. I’ll need to shut the pool down completely for the next month, but I just wanted to test the heater. Classes will begin in the late spring, and then I’ll get to teach. My heart is steady, and my mind is calm. I’m exactly where I’m meant to be.

“Yes,” she says.

It takes me a second or two to realize I didn’t imagine her word. My mind halting on the to-do list I’d just begun, my head falling forward again, tipping to the side.

Her eyes blink again, and her lip tugs up on one corner. Fucking Elvis!

“Ye…yes?” I stammer, nowhere near as cool and calm as I had pretended I would be when I fantasized about how this morning would go.

Maddy nods, her smile growing.

“Yes, Will Hollister. I will marry you,” she says.

Her eyes dazzle, and my heart stops, just for a moment, almost as if it’s etching a memory of this moment on my insides, as if right now is anything I could ever forget.

I turn to face her, lifting her body into mine, her legs falling over my own, our bodies pressed close together while my hands graze up her arms to her cold cheeks, pink from the morning chill. I lean into her, stopping when my forehead rests against hers, holding my kiss until I can just be certain I’m not dreaming.

It’s my smirk that gives me away.

“You’re totally going to throw me into the pool, aren’t you?” she asks, and I nod against her, biting my lip, but unable to stop the devious laugh that puffs out from my chest as I squeeze her to me tightly and push off with my legs, dumping us both into the water.

She screams when her head breaks back through the surface, and in typical Maddy fashion, her arms swing wildly, pelting me with balmy waves that still sting in the cold Indiana air. I let her hate me for just a second, and then I grip her wrists and drag her kicking toward me, my hands smoothing down her soaked sweatshirt, pressing her into me for warmth.

“I can’t believe I signed up for this for life,” she says, her voice quivering and her lips vibrating from both laughter and the cold.

I cup her face in my hands and kiss her hard, holding her head against mine for a second or two more, finally helping her from the pool, and then chasing behind her for the locker-room showers.

Once the hot water penetrates our skin, I pull her naked body to mine again, and I kiss every spot I missed the first time. I never tell her that I can’t believe she signed up for this either. I don’t share the millions of times I doubted deserving what she’s given me already. I keep all of those voices away from my head and heart. I lock them out, and I promise myself never to let them back in. It’s taken me years to defeat them. I couldn’t do it on my own. I needed joy.

My joy.

Maddy.

Maddy…and eighteen seconds.





The End





Acknowledgments





I had this heavy idea, and it lingered. I gave it a name eventually—Will Hollister. I think I have tortured Will more than any character I have ever constructed, and I am inspired by his ability to persevere. More than Will, though, I am inspired by the real fighters—the people who are knocked down so far it seems impossible, who face adversity, even when it’s more tragedy, but yet find a way to climb again—to rise above. This book is for them. Whether it feels like a hill or a mountain, your climb is brave. Even if you fall on the way back up.

There are so many people I need to thank for Hold My Breath. My home and heart always comes first. My husband is the reason I write. He is my joy, the thing that pushes me. And I am grateful for him every single day.

I’m rarely in a writing cave. Life is too precious to miss pieces of it, so I try to stay disciplined, never missing the important bits. But it doesn’t mean I don’t multitask. There are many practices, tournaments, batting lessons, school pickups, etc. where I am carrying my laptop, opening it between innings or squeezing in some editing during game breaks. My son never thinks I’m weird, and he’s usually pretty damn proud. That feels good. Love you to the moon, buddy.

Now for the girls. My beta squad: Ashley, Bianca, Jen and Shelley. You are truth, encouragement, honesty, praise, more honesty (LOL) and love all rolled into a group of kick-ass readers that I will hold hostage for as long as you let me. (Actually, probably longer. Stop reading for me and I will hunt you down.) I’m so thankful for the time you give my words. And the people I bring to life are better because of you all.

Tina Scott and BilliJoy Carson, my words end with you. You are the fine finishing. I come to you a Honda and you send me away a Cadillac. Thank you ladies for being the best editors ever!

Ninjas! Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I got so lucky. You all are the best readers, and your support and undying dedication to shouting from the mountaintops fuels me. Bloggers—each and every one of you, no matter the size—I am honored every single time you share something of mine, you review, you post, you suggest, you tag. You are my rock stars!

There are dozens of other names I need to shout out, and I’m sure I’m forgetting someone, but know this—I am beyond grateful for your time. Whether it’s answering my crazy nursing practice questions (Theresa Nelson, you are the best!) or just telling me to keep writing because you’re excited for the book, every word you send to me is meaningful. You all make me believe in miracles and magic.