Chapter 14 #2
Donovan studies me again. For the first time, I don’t feel as exposed as I usually do around her, though I have no idea why. Maybe it’s because she hasn’t once given me the sense that she’s judging me. “What changed?” she asks.
That’s where things get muddy. “I don’t know,” I mutter, shaking my head as my chest grows tight again.
There are few things I hate more than admitting I don’t know something.
“For the last couple of years, I’ve had more and more moments like this morning, where I get trapped in an endless loop of where I messed up and can’t get myself out of the spiral.
It’s worse when it affects other people.
” My right oar slips, and I look over to see that the blade has turned again. I sigh, adjusting both oars.
But then I pause, looking from one oar to the other and wondering why the slip up doesn’t hit me like it should. I’ve already made this mistake multiple times, but it doesn’t feel like a mistake. It… Somehow, it just feels like learning.
“When we stop for lunch,” Donovan says, pulling my attention back to her, “you should look at Farah’s boat. She uses these things called oar rights because something about the way she rows tends to make her oars twist. The rights keep her oars in the correct position.”
Gaping at her, I try to figure out how she’s doing this.
How she’s getting me to talk and saying all the right things, making this conversation so easy.
It’s liberating in a way, talking about my struggles instead of pretending they don’t exist. “Do you give therapy to all your passengers?” I ask, unable to hold the question back.
Her smile is broad and warm, and with her messy ponytail shining copper in the sun, she reminds me of a sunset over the coast, when everything is bathed in gold and makes me feel like nothing can touch me. “Just the ones who need it,” she says and bites her lip, almost like she’s embarrassed.
“Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For letting me row.” I gesture with my head to the oars. “And for listening. I haven’t…”
“You really never talk about this, do you?” she asks as her eyes roam my face.
I shake my head. “Never. Not even with Hunter. He’s seen enough to figure it all out for the most part, but I’ve never been able to admit what’s happening.”
“Admitting you’re struggling is admitting you’re not perfect.”
“Exactly.”
I’ve known Cole for almost a decade, and he was the first person I trusted enough to call a friend because he was so quick to share his own struggles with me and be vulnerable. He’s seen more of my flaws than any of my friends, and yet I haven’t said any of this to him. I haven’t even come close.
Maybe I worried that showing him my imperfections would make him realize that being my friend is more detrimental than beneficial, and he would walk away.
Donovan hasn’t walked away. Granted, we’re trapped on a boat together so she has nowhere to go, but something about her feels…
Safe.
“So why’d you tell me?” she asks as she pulls her eyebrows together. “Of all the people to come clean to, you picked a sassy river guide with zero qualms about telling you that you’re overrated.”
Frowning, I can’t decide if I should laugh or complain, which is surprising on its own. Her words should bother me, but they don’t. “Pretty sure you haven’t said that particular insult yet.”
“Well, I stand by it.” But she smiles, humor dancing in her eyes.
“I thought maybe you would stop insulting me by now,” I say in the same light tone she used.
Even with my over-tight life jacket, I feel like I can breathe for the first time all morning, so my words come out clear.
“Did you miss the part where I told you I have clinical perfectionistic tendencies that have seriously impacted my life?”
“Did you miss the part where you’re allowed to make mistakes because that’s what makes us human?
” She reaches forward and twists my oars to the right position, and her hands linger again, her pinkies brushing against my forefingers.
This time, it feels intentional. Heat spreads from my fingers down to my toes, and for a moment all I can hear is the pounding of my heart in my ears as I stare at her, willing her to come closer.
To let me into a space she guards so fiercely, just like I did with her.
“I mean that, Derek. Don’t be Phaethon and think you have something to prove.
” Her hands slide over the top of mine, stealing the breath from my lungs as she leans in while the boat drifts aimlessly downstream. “Don’t make the same mistakes I did.”
What does that mean?
I don’t ask. Not when she comes close enough that I can see the blue ring around her green eyes.
I thought about kissing her last night, and the thought is even stronger today now that I’ve shared a piece of my heart with her.
A kiss with Donovan Tate—with someone I trust—is bound to be nothing like the kisses I’ve had before, and I’m almost desperate to experience it.
My right oar hits the nearby shore with a bang, sliding inward and upward. The boat turns from the impact and shoves the oar handle directly into my face. Pain shoots through my jaw as I tumble backward, seeing stars.
And in case anyone is wondering if there’s a dignified way to take a hit like that…
There isn’t.