Page 55 of Just My Ex

“The lake is created by melting snow caps at an elevation of ten thousand feet and it’s still Spring. Of course it’s cold.”

She splashes a few more steps in and then bends over to splash the water on her tanned, bare legs. “Better than an ice bath.” She finishes with a few punches to her thighs and calves to wake up her muscles, a move I remember from when we started running together in the early days.

The woman’s a beast.

I shake my head as she wades in further, the water to her knees, gasping at the frigid temperature. She lifts her arms over her head and breathes in slowly, crisscrossing her hands up high and then lowering her arms to her sides.

For sheer survival, I’d tried to forget that everything she does is mesmerizing. Now that she’s up close and personal, there is no more forgetting.

“You really should join me,” she says without turning around. “It’s amazing.”

I scan the horizon, squinting in the rising sun.

She faces me and comprehension dawns on her face. “Oh. I get it. You don’t want to get in because you’re ‘on duty,’ protecting me from the bad guys.” Her smirk goads me on.

I cross my arms. “Something like that.”

She lifts a foot and splashes water in my direction, but it’s too feeble of an attempt for the water to reach me.

I continue to scan the area, the remote outdoor protocols registering in my brain.

If I can remind myself that I’m treating this like a job, we’ll be good. I won’t get invested in this. And I won’t be tempted to join her in the water.

I’ve never once joined any members of the Ostlins in water of any kind. That would have been against the rules and would have been grounds for termination—if Carla were in a bad mood. Even when I had to dress in swim trunks at a celebrity pool party one of the Ostlin teens attended, I didn’t even get close to the water.

Besides, this isn’t an inviting, tropical waterway. It is a mountainous lake that’s cold, mossy in places, and smells of fish. There are jagged rocks out there that have caused me blood loss on multiple occasions. Yeah, I had fun in it as a kid. I spent as much time as I could in, on, or near this water. But right now, I can’t compromise my ability to keep Quinn safe by wading in.

No matter how tempting she looks in those pink shorts.

It would be so fun to dunk her. To hear her laugh and scream in my ear and pretend-fight me back.

But I won’t.

There are about a hundred things that could go wrong in that scenario.

I move along the beach, walking back and forth, watching and listening to Quinn talk to herself. Well, she’s talking to whatever creatures she finds in the lake, in the same voice she uses when she’s excited to show Navie something.

I should have brought my binoculars. I consider everything a possible threat, that’s part of my DNA now, so I walk along the shoreline, tracking everything I can.

Quinn’s yelp, followed by a slick splash, has me wheeling back around.

She’s gone.

I whip my head around, cursing. I lock in my sights a disturbance in the water in the general area where she was, and I head there.

I’m three steps in when she emerges, soaking wet and laughing.

Laughing?

Or coughing?

How about both.

She’s laughing, sputtering, and coughing. Wiping a mass of hair out of her face, she wades back towards me, her skin pink.

When the water recedes to her calves, she stops, resting one hand on her knee, doubled over, laughing.

Finally, she says. “I think I’m hurt.”

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