Page 140 of When Hearts Remember

“Okay.” She breathes out. “I might disappoint you, but…okay.”

You’ll never disappoint me, Nova.

I’ll teach you how to swim if it’s the last thing I do.

Chapter 44

I can do this.I can do this. I can do this.

The smell of chlorine hits my nose. My palms sweat. The hairs stand on the back of my neck.

I want to throw up.

Huffing out quick breaths, I snap the rubber band on my wrist. I sneak one more look at my phone, hoping Polaris’s email will pop up.

He always has the perfect words of encouragement.

A weight presses into my chest, the ache behind my rib cage making an appearance. Did I scare him off? It’s been weeks. Why isn’t he responding? Did he forget about me?

He’s only a pen pal, Lexy. Just because you feel something doesn’t mean he does.

I shouldn’t feel sad. I’ve never met him after all.

Shaking myself, I stuff my phone inside the locker and slam it shut. Time to focus on the task at hand.

Swimming.

I can do this. I’m Alexis Vaughn and I’m stronger than my fears. I don’t need anyone to encourage me because I’m motivated all on my own.

Blowing out one last breath, I step through the door separating the changing room and the Olympic-sized swimming pool inside The Orchid.

Then my lungs stop working altogether. My eyes malfunction too.

Because there’s a hot merman in the water.

Sleek muscles flash, then disappear, the water rippling from his movements. Those powerful arms resurface and slice through the air, the motion full of strength and precision.

The perfect butterfly stroke.

Suddenly, my skin is too hot and I tug my black bikini top, trying to loosen it up.

Ethan’s not lying. Hecanswim.

His movements halt when he reaches the end of the pool, and in one quick motion, he hoists himself up, bracing his forearms on the edge.

“Coming in?” He swipes his hair back.

My mouth dries. It’s like watching a cologne commercial in slow motion. The water droplets glide across swaths of golden skin, trickling down his corded neck to those defined pecs and rippling abs.

Six-pack. No, eight-pack.

High school boys didnotlook like this.

I gulp.

“Cat got your tongue?” He unleashes a wry grin, his dimples flashing.

My heart stutters, then goosebumps form on my forearms.

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