Chapter 23 Piper
Thirty-seven laps.
Thirty-eight.
This was the part of the day I loved most. No noise, no decisions, just the rhythm.
The water drowning everything else out. No thinking about tonight's dinner with Daniel, our third attempt this month to actually sit down together without one of us canceling.
No replaying the text he'd sent last night:
Looking forward to Friday. Miss you.
I'd stared at those two words for a full minute before typing back:
Miss you too.
Did I? I wasn't sure anymore.
Thirty-nine.
I'd seen Liam's face in the newspaper three days ago.
It had been a small article in the local section—new Captain at Station 47, some quote from the fire chief about leadership and community service.
The photo was professional, official. Him in his dress uniform, standing in front of Engine 47, arms crossed, jaw set.
He looked confident. Like he belonged there.
He also looked different. Older maybe. The jaw more defined, like he'd lost weight or just carried himself differently.
Something in his eyes was different too—steadier, I supposed.
Less of that restless energy I remembered.
I'd stared at that photo for a solid minute, coffee cooling in my hand, before Maya had snatched the paper away from me.
"You know there’s a word for this, right? It’s called masochism,” she'd said.
"I was just surprised. I didn't know he was back."
"Do you want to know he's back?"
I'd gone back to kneading dough. "It doesn't matter. Riverside is a big town. I probably won't even see him."
Maya had given me that look, the one that said she didn't believe me but wasn't going to push.
Forty.
I touched the wall and came up for air, chest heaving. Someone was swimming in the lane next to mine.
I blinked water out of my eyes. That was unusual. This early, the pool was always empty except for me and whatever college kid was working the lifeguard shift.
I pushed off the wall for lap forty-one. I didn't think about it, just kept swimming.
But I was aware of them now—the splash of someone else's strokes, the rhythm of their breathing. They were fast and steady. Definitely someone who did this regularly.
We reached the wall at the same time.
I grabbed the edge, catching my breath, and glanced over.
My heart stopped.
Liam.
He was pulling off his goggles, water streaming down his face. He’d trimmed his beard shorter. He was also leaner than I remembered, shoulders broader, like he'd spent the past year in the gym. His hair was shorter too, pushed back from his forehead.
He looked up.
Saw me.
For a second, neither of us moved. Just treading water three feet apart, staring at each other like we'd both seen a ghost.
"Piper." Just my name. His voice rougher than I remembered, or maybe that was just the echo off the water.
My throat closed up. I couldn't find words. My heart was hammering so hard I could feel it in my temples.
He cleared his throat and looked away. Ran a hand over his face, wiping water from his eyes. "I didn't know you swam here."
"I—" My voice came out thin. "You're back."
"Yeah." He was still looking at the wall, not at me. "Captain at 47."
I knew that. I'd seen the photo. But hearing him say it out loud made it real in a way the newspaper hadn't.
Silence stretched between us. The lifeguard's radio crackled across the pool. Somewhere in the building, a door slammed.
Liam pushed back from the wall, treading water for a second. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt your workout." He reached up and pulled himself out in one smooth motion. His arms were stronger than I remembered, his movements more controlled. "I'll leave you to it."
He grabbed his towel from the bench.
“You just got here,” I said, stupidly.
He paused, towel in his hands, and looked at me for the first time since we'd locked eyes. His expression was careful.
"That's okay." He draped the towel around his shoulders. "I didn't know you came this early. I'll… I’ll choose another time slot."
I should have said something. Tell him it was fine, that the pool was big enough for both of us. That he didn't need to rearrange his entire schedule because of me, or that I didn't care what he did or didn't do.
But the words stuck in my throat.
"Take care, Piper."
He walked toward the locker room, flip-flops slapping against wet tile. He didn't look back. Instead, he just… left.
I stayed there at the wall, hands gripping the edge, staring at the space where he'd been.
The lifeguard was scrolling his phone again. The water was still. Everything was exactly the same as it had been five minutes ago.
Except it wasn't.
I tried to push off for another lap. Made it halfway across the pool before I had to stop, treading water, my chest too tight to breathe properly.
Forty-one laps. That's all I'd managed.
I pulled myself out and grabbed my towel, hands shaking as I dried my face.
He was different. The way he'd looked at me… or, really, the way he hadn't looked at me. The way he'd just... left. No explanations, no apologies, no asking how I'd been or if we could talk.
He'd respected what I'd said months ago.
He'd left me alone.
I sat on the bench, staring at the pool, and tried to figure out why that made my chest ache.