Page 97 of The Spark Between Us

“And I also love you. But I can’t believe you capsized us in this frigid water.”

Inexplicably, his hat was still on his head. The brim stood up like a tiara. When he smiled, the sun glinted in his eyes, making them sparkle like tiny stars. He looked like a slightly possessed fairy godmother. “You’ve been puttering around like a zombie for a week. Have you noticed that Tater Tot is still living in your house?”

It made me laugh. “I did notice that. And I’m glad to have the company, so I kind of hope she stays.”

“I heard her say you made her co-owner.”

That didn’t sound like something I would do, but what did I know about myself anymore these days? I never thought I’d be willing to stay in Carolwood for love either, so I was just a surprise a minute.

Finn swam over to my side of the kayak. “Come on, let’s flip this thing and go back.”

“In a minute,” I said, leaning back and letting the life vest float me on the surface of the water with minimal effort. “This is the first time in two weeks that I’ve been able to feel anything besides misery. I want to enjoy that before I continue my wallowing.”

Closing my eyes, I let the morning sun hit my face. Even though my teeth were chattering, there was no escaping the beauty of my surroundings and the reality that the new day had unleashed a new chance to pick myself up from the pavement and decide to return to the living.

“Hey.” Finn’s voice called me out of my haze. I opened my eyes. “You okay?”

I nodded. “Not yet, but I will be.”

“You gonna fix this thing and make yourself happy?”

“No comment.”

Together, we launched ourselves onto the bottom of the kayak and pulled the far edge back toward us. In one swift motion, the plastic vessel flipped right side up. Carefully, I held it steady while Finn climbed over the edge and sat on the far side. Then I swam around and collected the paddles we’d strewn into the water and handed them to him.

He leaned back toward the far side, so I wouldn’t dump the whole thing back into the bay when I leaned hard to climb in. When I’d settled back in my seat, Finn handed me a paddle but made no move to pick up the other one.

“C’mon, let’s go back, and I’ll buy you some breakfast,” he said.

I waited for him to pick up the paddle, but he didn’t. “What’s up? Why aren’t you paddling?” I accused.

“I did most of the work on the way out here while you were sulking. I think you’ll feel better about yourself if you do the paddling on the way back.”

Being the oldest, Finn did a lot of bossing around in our house growing up. The only male, he had the deepest and loudest voice. Plus, he was smart. Translation: he could do things like dumping a person into the San Francisco Bay and demanding to be paddled back to shore while he lazed in the sun.

But not today.

“Not doing that, dude. I know I didn’t pull my weight coming out here, but the tide shifted. I can’t get both of us back in this current.”

He folded her arms over his chest. “Sure you can. You still need to burn off some steam. Start paddling, and I’ll jump in when you’re gassed.”

“Fine.” He pissed me off, but he had a point. Since I’d been back home, I’d intentionally tortured myself, which meant I hadn’t been to my pole dancing class, I hadn’t looked for vistas where I could see the sun setting over the bay, I hadn’t ridden my bike, I hadn’t done anything except work myself to the bone.

As I slid my paddle through the water, it didn’t take long before I found my rhythm. After a while, a bead of sweat dripped down my forehead, and I inhaled a deeper breath into my lungs.

Even though a part of me wanted to surrender to the ease of wallowing in sweatpants, the crisp morning air and the proximity to the water had the effect of chilling me out and making me want more than the lowest possible state of human existence.

When my arms started to ache, I pulled the paddle harder. When I felt my breathing get heavier, I leaned into the discomfort. The only way I would get past Braden was by going through all the stages of grief, so I willed myself to move from inertia to claiming my life back.

The only way out is through.

It pained me to hear the echo of his words, but I reasoned that maybe he’d been telling something I wasn’t ready to hear at the time. He had helped me. He’d made me realize I was ready for a relationship, and I didn’t need to compartmentalize my life into neat boxes and stages. Sometimes they overlapped. Sometimes life got sloppy and unmanageable.

I just needed to find someone who wouldn’t freak out at the first sign of a mess.

We hadn’t reached the marina yet, but when I stopped paddling, Finn turned around to look at me. I could see from his satisfied expression that wearing me out had been his intention all along.

“Did you plan to throw me overboard?” I asked quietly. I no longer felt angry, just drained.

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