Swimming after her, I catch her twenty yards from the dock but keep swimming to give her the space I know she needs. “I can dog-paddle all day long.”
She giggles. “You’re being ridiculous. Why do you want to know all the stuff that doesn’t matter now anyway?”
“Because it matters to me.”
“Fine. I’ll make you a deal.” She splashes me. “If you get to ask questions and I have to answer, same goes for you. We take turns and when one doesn’t answer, the game is over. How’s that?”
She may be good at avoiding those grenades of questions I drop, but I’m the king of keeping secrets. So this proposition gives me pause. Logically, though, for us to be together, she needs to know about the life I’ve been leading. As much as I hate admitting the bad stuff, good things came from it.
What if this is my chance to redeem myself?
What if she thinks I’m a monster?
What if she loves me more because I survived when I didn’t know if I would at times?
What if she can’t forgive my past?
What if she hates me?
What if . . . letting her in will free my soul from the burden of the sins I’ve carried with me? I swallow my pride. “Okay,” I whisper. “Deal.”
She swims closer but stops ten or so feet away. “When my dad died, Cole moved us straight into my parents’ bedroom. I didn’t want to sleep in there. I was still grieving, and it felt disrespectful. It hurt to be in that room at all, much less take it over.”
“Why’d he do that?”
Smiling gently, she reminds me, “My turn, remember?” I swim a few feet closer. “Where have you been for the past four years?”
Easy. “Alaska for a brief stint on a fishing boat.”
“I knew about Alaska from your mom.”
She’s on to me. “The money was great, but the work was hard.”
“You never minded hard work from what I remember.”
It’s not a question, but a statement I feel the need to address. “It wasn’t the work I wanted to do. Also, it sucked being on that boat for weeks at a time. Limited booze. Horrible sleeping conditions. Fish every meal.” The left side of my mouth quirks up. No women. “After that, I was up and down the West Coast and then crossed the country to New England. I’ve traveled all over between jobs and sometimes for the job.”
Rolling her eyes, she retreats a few feet, which makes me laugh. “To answer your earlier question, I’m not sure. I have theories that Cole wanted to control me, and when he didn’t feel he had enough power, he’d hurt me. At first, it was emotional, but then it escalated.” Wading closer, she asks, “What did you do, or do now, for work and for money?”
She’s tricky, that glint in her eyes reflecting her more devious side. Diving forward, I swim until I reach her legs. Her scream can be heard underwater it’s so loud. Pulling her under, I kiss her before we pop back up for air together. “Ah.” She sounds so satisfied my cock awakens despite the cool water.
Keeping us close, I say, “C’mere.” Her limbs wrap around me, and I swim back to the dock.
“You still have to answer, Jason.”
“I will, but it may take a while.”
While she climbs up the ladder, I watch that fine ass. Rubbing over my dick, I try to remind it that now is not the time. It clearly has other plans, though.
We sit on a towel with our legs dangling over the edge. I’m not going to make her ask again, but it’s hard to start this conversation from a place of truth when I’m so used to hiding the details. I exhale. “I wasn’t a hitman.”
“What? Good God!” she exclaims, angling back as if I have cooties. “I didn’t expect that. What the hell do you mean you weren’t a hitman? And if that’s what you weren’t, what were you?”
I don’t think I’ve ever seen her eyes both wide with curiosity while also narrowed in shock, but that’s what I’m seeing, and I feel an explanation rushing to ease the lines digging into her forehead. “I was a hired gun, a soldier, or maybe a mercenary is more accurate. Not for the military, but for private citizens who needed help righting wrongs.” Daring to peek over at her, I find her mouth hanging open. “Are we still playing?”
“Jason . . .”
That’s all she says and turns away from me to stare ahead at the lake. Troubling her lip, she rounds down her shoulders, and the battle in her thoughts is waging a war in her body language. It’s a lot to process, and I’m willing to give her time to do so, but damn, am I squirming in my skin. My heart’s racing, and I’m sweating even though I’m still wet from swimming.