26. Cole
“Now that’s what I call a swing set,” I mutter as we step onto the sandy base of the recreation area that’s connected to the Takini Island community land.
“Right?” Sydney looks around, her eyes scrunching slightly as she takes it all in. The structure has a winding tunnel slide, a large playhouse, three additional slides, and even a rock-climbing wall on one side. A makeshift boat, complete with a steering wheel and faux fishing rods attached, is built into the back side of it. Admittedly, it’s one of the most creative ones I’ve ever seen. Not that I’ve seen many in my day, but still.
“I think kids will have fun playing on it, right? It was the biggest one I could find in our budget.” She places her hands on her hips and tilts her head for one last scrutinizing perusal.
“I would say so,” I agree, running my hand along the wooden base of the playhouse, admiring the finish.
“Is the craftsmanship up to your standards?” she asks, a hint of teasing in her tone.
A smile curves my mouth upward. “It looks good. Nice choice.”
I turn to her. “Want to show me the rest?”
“Sure.” She leads me across the sand, past a row of brand-new picnic tables with attached umbrellas that replaced the worn tables that were here before. I remember coming here once or twice with my uncle, but there wasn’t a whole lot to play on then.
“We’ve got a tennis court over here and a small waterproof shed to store the balls and rackets.” She points to the large slab of asphalt on the outer edge of the property. “The court still needs to be painted, but that should get done this week, I think.”
She goes quiet as her gaze turns to the court with a hint of admiration. The fondness in her gaze has me wondering if it means something more to her.
“Did you used to play tennis?” I inquire.
My question brings a smile to her face for a brief moment before a faint twist of pain follows directly behind it.
“Not really. It was my mom’s favorite sport,” she says quietly. “I used to tag along when she would go to the gym every week to play. I’d watch her for hours on end.”
I nod silently, not wanting to make her pain any worse by asking another question. I don’t want to accidentally hit another nerve.
She seems to get lost in reminiscing for a few moments while I wait patiently for her to work through whatever she’s reminiscing over. Eventually, she sighs, clears her throat, and turns to head toward the lake.
“We’ll be setting up a volleyball net down here on the beach,” she explains, the affliction now gone from her tone. I don’t like that she’s used to shifting out of pain like that so easily. “And we put in a new dock system to accommodate more boats.”
I keep my gaze trained on her, on the lookout for any further shift in emotion, while she pans hers across the whole recreation area. Her hands come to her hips again as she sighs.
“I don’t know. My plan was to make this a special place for families. Whether they walk over from the lodge or if they stop by boat. I’d like it to be a peaceful place for both kids and adults to play. Relax and alleviate the stress of life, you know? That’s what I hoped for, anyway.” She shrugs, and I can see the doubt behind her eyes.
“It’s perfect,” I tell her, using the words I know will mean the most to her.
She huffs a small smile, bashfully turning toward me. The roughness in her features softens as she zeros in on me. Then she lifts her brows as if an idea suddenly popped into her head.
“Hey, I’ll race you down the slides,” she challenges with a playful mischief.
“What?” I chuckle at the absurdity. “Sydney, I’ll break it. I’m pretty sure I’m way beyond the weight limit for that thing.”
That only seems to further her excitement, despite my rationale.
“Come on!” she yells, jogging for the playset. A sudden urge hits me to give in to her lighthearted challenge, and I make a split-second decision to do it. What do I have to lose? I break into a jog, her squeal fading into the wind as I pass by her.
I pause when I near the playground to wait for her, but she rushes past me to the vertical steps on the side. Following behind her, a youthful surge of energy runs through me. One that’s carefree and light. One I don’t remember ever feeling until this moment.
“Are you ready?” she asks, looking back at me from where she sits at the top of one of the wavy slides. I settle onto the one next to her as best I can, barely able to squeeze my legs in between the ridges.
“This isn’t going to go well,” I mutter, but I nod to her anyway. “I’m ready.”
“Go!” she says, flinging herself down the slide. I push off with my hands, but my legs screech against the plastic of the slide, and I resort to using my feet to scooch my way down. When I finally make it to the very bottom, my foot hits the sand at an awkward angle when I try to straighten my leg, and I end up tripping over myself. My knees fall into the sand, and I catch myself with my wrist to avoid falling face first into it.
A hearty laugh escapes me as I attempt to regain my balance. It’s an involuntary reaction that comes straight from my gut, fueled by this carefree, ridiculous moment. When I glance over at Sydney, I expect to find her doing the same, laughing at my expense.
Instead, she’s staring at me, her expression void of any humor. In fact, she’s frozen in place, pinning me with a look that I can’t quite place.
“What?” I ask, slightly out of breath from my efforts.
She swallows, a subdued smile finally forming as she seems to come back into focus.
“Back then…I used to love when you smiled,” she says quietly, stepping closer to me. “I didn’t know what was going on in your life at the time, of course, but I assumed your smiles were hard-earned.”
The breath gets caught in my throat as I roll my lips, feeling uncomfortable at her observation. Yet, a part of me desperately wants her to continue to find out what she has to say.
“I liked that I could bring out that side of you. It was comforting, in a way, to know that I could.” Her mouth twitches with a smile. “I think the same is true when you laugh.”
A warmth grips my chest, not making it any easier to breathe. As I process her words, the way they make me feel—this rush of emotion—has me leaning down to press a kiss to her mouth. It seems to be as involuntary and necessary as the laugh was.
When I pull back, she hovers close to my mouth instead of backing away.
“I like it, is all,” she whispers, a small grin forming. Then she takes a step backward before racing back to the swing set for a second race.
I follow after her, deciding that I do too.