Chapter 9
Graham’s dreams were a mashup of images and scenes that didn’t quite fit together, some almost sensual, others tense and somewhat frightening.
He woke up with a headache—not a hangover, as he hadn’t consumed but one beer the night before—but a tight band of pressure that felt like it was crushing his skull, likely a result of the stress and tension from last night.
Last night.
Had that really happened? He didn’t have the inebriation excuse to explain it away this time. Did that mean the night before last… wasn’t an alcohol-induced dream, either?
Tension crept back into his muscles and made his head hurt even more.
Graham left the bed and walked to the window.
The lake appeared calm, peaceful… non-threatening.
But was that simply a facade? The frightening image of the pontoon boat rising out of the water, then capsizing and sinking, remained vivid in Graham’s mind.
How was that not the embodiment of threatening?
Whatever it was… may have saved your life. If one of the beer cans had struck him in the head…
Graham rubbed his eyes and turned away from the window. The throbbing in his skull intensified as he tried to apply reason to the events of the previous night, when nothing made sense. The things he witnessed—and experienced—couldn’t have happened. Maybe someone ruffied the one drink he’d had.
He took a couple of pain relievers and sat on the bed, his head in his hands.
He didn’t know how to move on from this moment, how to process reality…
or what that even entailed anymore. When he was younger, Graham vaguely recalled having dreams about the Lochlan Lake stories, where he visited the lake with his grandfather and played in the water with the creature.
What if those weren’t just dreams, either?
Graham slowly raised his head and stared across the cabin. His last conversation with his grandpa before he passed away came back with crystal clarity.
“I want you to look after my lake for me. Take care of it… protect it. You’re the only one I trust to care for it… as I cared for it. It’s yours now. Love it… and it will love you back.”
Graham lowered his eyes to the floor, his brow furrowing.
Love it… and it will love you back. Graham hadn’t thought anything of his grandpa’s words at the time, knowing how much he loved the cabin and the lake.
After reading the passage in his journal, his understanding of the old man’s love for the lake deepened.
A tremor ran through Graham, and he grabbed the journal as he slid back on the bed, sitting cross-legged. He reread the same passage while releasing the restraints of his mind. His attention caught on a single paragraph:
My desire for him this evening pulsed through me like moonlight through water, leaving me dizzy as he traced the hollows between my ribs with fingertips that weren't quite fingers.
He surrounded me completely—his touch simultaneously cool as lake water and hot as summer air against my naked skin.
Tendrils of sensation wrapped around my thighs, my waist, the column of my throat.
I trembled violently, my body vibrating like a plucked string, even before I felt him push inside me—filling me with a presence both solid and liquid that seemed to reach impossible places.
When he moved within me, the trembling became a violent shuddering that started in my core and radiated outward until even my vision blurred.
What he does to me—the way my consciousness seems to fragment into shards of pure sensation—defies explanation.
Another tremor shuddered through Graham, his heart pounding faster with each phrase that suddenly seemed to hold more meaning than before.
…moved inside me like liquid electricity.
…skin gleaming with otherworldly phosphorescence.
When he spoke of eternity, I felt it in the iridescent shimmer of his skin against mine…
…touches that left trails of blue-white light across my flesh.
The love I feel for him floods every cell until my skin can barely contain it…
Graham was shaking, his vision blurring, as he read aloud the final piece of the entry.
“I often think about the day we met, and what would have become of me had he not intervened in my life. Would I even be here today? He saved my life… in every way. And showed me a love I would have never believed existed if not for him. He will be a part of me always, in this life and the next.”
He saved my life… in every way. What did that mean?
Who was Lochlan? Why had he described him that way in the journal? Fingers that weren’t really fingers? Tendrils of sensation that wrapped his thighs, waist, and throat?
Graham had thought his grandpa was using a writer’s poetic eloquence to describe how his lover made him feel… but what if he wasn’t? What if he was being literal?
Rising on shaky legs, Graham returned to the window, still gripping the journal. His gaze traveled across the glassy surface of the lake. It’s yours now. Love it… and it will love you back.
Was he really just talking about the lake—or something under the lake?
What kind of “legacy” had his grandfather left him?
You’re the only one I trust to care for it.
His grandpa had said he was special… and that’s why he entrusted the lake to Graham.
Only to Graham. He leaned against the windowpane, feeling lightheaded.
Yesterday’s dream flooded over him—the ecstasy and sensuality that overwhelmed his senses, his body.
He had never been so… aroused… in his life.
This isn’t normal. This can’t be normal. Was he going crazy? Where his mind was taking him couldn’t be for real. What happened last night couldn’t be real. There had to be another explanation. There had to be.
Graham returned to the bed and laid the journal on the pillow, staring at the worn leather cover. He was afraid to dive deeper into the passages, to learn the whole truth of his grandfather’s love for the “lake.”
The sound of an engine made Graham jump, and his pulse spiked.
He quickly pulled on a clean pair of jeans and stepped onto the porch in his bare feet.
Tension knotted his gut as Deke’s Ford pickup emerged from the trees.
Did they remember what happened? Would anyone believe them even if they did?
Graham couldn’t believe it, even though he’d seen it with his own eyes.
They had all been hammered; he knew from experience that when they partied that hard, they rarely remembered much the next day.
But could even a severely sloshed mind forget that?
Graham suddenly felt sick with fear that they would recall everything.
What would he do in that case? Had he already failed to protect the lake, simply by allowing them to party on the water?
His fear magnified as Deke parked the truck and climbed out.
Graham didn’t know if Deke being alone was good or bad.
The guy glanced at the lake, a strained look on his face, as he walked toward the porch.
Graham stood at the top of the steps, his toes pressing into the splintered wooden planks as his stomach twisted and cramped.
His eyes darted to the lake as a small ripple crinkled the otherwise smooth surface.
A gust of wind? Something else? His eyes snapped back to Deke as the man approached the porch.
Graham offered no cordial “hello” and let him speak first.
“Graham…” Deke said with a guarded tone. He looked like shit, his eyes still a bit bloodshot and wincing against the bright morning sunlight. “About last night…” He faltered.
“What about it?”
Deke released a stiff breath. “Do you… remember anything?”
“You mean, after my so-called friends made me walk the plank and threw me into the water? Then threw loaded beer cans at my head?” He scoffed. “Why the hell would I remember that?”
“What?” Deke winced and rubbed his eyes. “I remember… some of it, but… but who threw beer cans at you?”
“Ryan.”
Deke sighed. “The guy’s a dick,” he mumbled.
“He must be contagious,” Graham replied with a cold edge.
“Look, I…” Deke shook his head and grimaced. “I don’t remember everything that happened. I know we were assholes, but… so were you.”
“Whatever. What do you want?”
Deke looked at the lake, confusion pinching his face. “What happened…” He faced Graham. “… to the pontoon?”
Graham licked his lips. “What do you mean? You took it when you left.”
“No, I didn’t,” Deke said. “Something… weird happened… I think.”
“Weird? Weird, how?”
“I don’t fucking know,” he snapped. “I remember we were partying on the boat, and then… something… tipped the boat, knocked us into the water.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know,” Deke said. “Like a fucking wave or something.”
Graham stared at him, deadpan. “That doesn’t make sense. It’s a lake, not the ocean. It doesn’t have waves like that.”
“I get that,” Deke growled. “But something fucking tipped it over. And then…” He crammed his fingers into his eyes as if trying to force the memory. “I don’t fucking know. I think the boat… sank.”
“Are you sure you weren’t smoking something last night, too?”
“Look.” Deke glared at him. “I don’t know what the fuck really happened. But I know you weren’t drinking like the rest of us. What did you see?”
“After my friends threw me off the boat?” Graham shrugged.
“I didn’t see shit. I came back here and went to bed.
I didn’t even hear you leave. I woke up this morning, and you and the boat were gone.
And frankly, you have some fucking audacity to even come back here after the bullshit you pulled last night.
I’d thank you very much to get off my property.
I don’t have your fucking boat. If it sank, it’s gone.
More likely, you took it with you, parked it somewhere, and forgot where you left it. ”
Deke stepped back. “We didn’t take it with us,” he muttered, casting another glance at the lake.
“If it sank,” Graham said, “It was probably the fault of some drunken asshole. You were all shit-faced.” Graham paused, then added, “I do remember a lot of shouting just before I went into the cabin last night. A bunch of you guys were trying to see how much you could rock the boat. I’m guessing you managed to flip it yourself and damaged the hull or something. ”
The uncertainty on Deke’s face eased Graham’s tension; he didn’t remember much, and Graham’s story was entirely plausible, as it was exactly something they would do while drunk.
Deke rubbed his face. “Fuck,” he mumbled, and walked back to his truck… no apologies for the things he did remember. It didn’t matter; Graham had learned everything he needed to know about his “friends” last night.
Graham remained on the porch until the pickup turned around and drove into the trees, trailed by a light dust cloud, then he looked at the lake.
Ripples resurfaced, swirling gently toward the shore, ebbing the algae-slick pillars beneath the dock.
Graham swallowed as a soft gust of warm air sifted through his hair like sensual fingers, and a different tension pressed into his bones.
He backed up, his bare feet sliding across the rough-hewn boards, and entered the cabin, closing the door behind him.
Sitting on the bed, Graham held the journal in his lap, his fingers tensely gripping the leather cover.
Something splashed in the lake, and he flinched, then squeezed his eyes shut, his heart racing.
Another splash. Graham’s heart thumped harder as he had the inexplicable feeling that whatever was out there… was trying to get his attention.
An odd sensation quivered through Graham, causing a flurry of tingles to skate across the surface of his skin.
A sudden, unexpected warmth spilled through his loins, startling him.
Though he couldn’t deny he was afraid to go out there—a part of him was compelled to go, as if something was pulling at him from his core, drawing him to it.
Graham rolled his shoulders against the sensation as if trying to rid himself of a bug crawling up his spine, and looked down at the journal. His fingers trembled as he opened the book and reread the very first entry.
‘The cabin is finished. I will spend my summers here, writing and spending time with Lochlan. I can only see him in the summer, but our time together is special. He is special, so much more than I can put into words. I’ve never felt so connected to another soul.
Most wouldn’t understand our love, and that’s okay. He’s my beautiful secret.’
My beautiful secret.
Graham raised his eyes to the window on the far side of the room where morning sunlight spilled into the cabin, dust particles dancing in the soft rays, and the shimmering lake beyond.
His insides began to churn and tremble as his mind fractured a little with a reality he didn’t know how to process or accept.
Lochlan wasn’t a man.
Love it… and it will love you back.
Another splash, bigger this time.
Graham’s throat quivered as he swallowed a few times, his Adam’s apple laboring.
He slowly set the journal aside with trembling hands, yet was unable to move off the bed.
He could feel his heartbeat at various points in his body, hear it thumping in his ears, in his head.
Sweat beaded his brow as a flush of heat poured down through him, turning his skin tacky beneath his clothes.
More splashes, more calls for his attention, with an almost good-humored insistence—like a child performing antics to entice a friend to play with them.
Graham crawled off the bed, his legs numbing beneath him as he moved stiffly to the window.
Waves from the last splash rolled against the shore.
As Graham looked out over the water, a small swell formed—less menacing than the previous night—barely a foot high, and drifted up to the dock, dissipated, then formed again.
It wants you to come outside… and play.