Page 167 of Swept for Forever
And it all started because of her.
Because of the woman at my side, the one who could turn a courtroom bruiser into a man who held puppies in his arms.
Because of my Otter.
EPILOGUE – AUTUMN
San Antonio, Texas – a year later
The scent of chlorine clung to everything—the air, my skin—the buzz of adrenaline lacing my bloodstream.
The national swimming championship was louder than I’d imagined. Stadium lights bounced off the glistening water, and the crowd roared the moment the competitors stepped onto the deck. Cameras panned and banners flew. I was repping Montana now, which still felt surreal. Me. Otter. A girl who once nearly drowned in more ways than one.
In the bleachers, I spotted my parents. They’d been in full manager mode all season, not that it meant they were back together. Dad was explaining something to Mom, which she’d probably argue about in thirty seconds, and Dom would end up playing referee. Again.
He looked larger than life in his Team Otter hoodie, his ball cap turned backward. And on his lap? Lulu, wearing an official service dog vest. Legit. Dom had wrangled her the status, and she’d been racking up air miles ever since the season started.
Next to them sat Jimmy and Julia. They had finished theirraces yesterday. Julia had earned a bronze in the 100m freestyle, and Jimmy had narrowly missed the podium in the 200. Today, they were both decked out in Otter merch and screaming louder than my own blood in my ears.
Then it was go time.
I slid into the pool. My hands gripped the block above me, and my feet braced against the wall. It was a medal race. 200m backstroke, my specialty. I faced the ceiling, the water waiting behind me, my lane stretching unseen.
The buzzer split the air.
I launched backward, arching through the surface. Everything else disappeared, until it didn’t.
Because halfway through the last lap, the water changed.
Suddenly, I wasn’t in a race. I was back in that frigid mountain river, fighting to keep Dom alive. Fighting for something worth drowning for.
The current of the memory surged through me and carried me home.
When my hand slapped the wall at the finish, I wasn’t even sure what had happened. Not until the scoreboard lit up and someone shrieked, “Silver! Otter got silver!”
Tears came fast, chlorinated and messy and not at all graceful. I’d been tipped to place fourth at best, so silver was everything.
I turned to the gold medalist in the next lane.
“Great job!” I called out.
“You too!” she said with a laugh. “You look way too calm for someone who just shattered a record.”
“What?”
What record?
Right then, the announcement echoed again overhead. She and I had both broken the national record.
“No way!” I gasped.
“Believe it!” she said, flashing a grin as she swam to the edge. “Next stop? The Olympics, girl!”
Dom found me as I finished talking with my team and coach, still dripping, my jacket plastered to my back. He pulled me aside, just past the crush of bodies and noise.
“You swam like hell out there,” he said, his voice low and a little rough around the edges. “Thought you were gonna give me a heart attack.”
I snorted. “Not my fault you’re emotionally fragile.”
