Chapter 3
TALON
“There’s the golden boy.”
Ledger’s voice carried across the swim deck as I stepped out of the locker room, the smell of chlorine already seeping into my skin.
Ledger was my main competition on the team—equal parts rival and best friend. Since our freshman year, we’d been locked in a constant battle for the fastest times, the best splits, the records on the board. The kind of competition that didn’t just push you, it sharpened you.
We were both sprinters, but I had two inches on him, something he swore was the only reason I touched the wall a second ahead of him in the fifty-yard freestyle.
I gave him a smirk. “Aren’t you tired of chasing my bubbles?”
“Let’s race the hundred breaststroke and see who’s eating whose bubbles,” he shot back.
I tugged on my swim cap. “Sure. Right after we do the hundred fly.”
His expression twisted into mock disgust. Breaststroke was his territory and my weakest event. If I could burn him out on butterfly first, I had a shot at stealing his win—by half a second, if I was lucky.
“As fun as it is listening to you two argue over who’s prettier in a swim cap,” Ridge cut in, “can we start warming up?”
I grinned at him. “C’mon, baby brother. Don’t you want to challenge us to a backstroke duel?”
He gave me a one-shouldered shrug and a cocky grin. “It’s not really a challenge when I know I’m going to win.” He dove in before I could push him in.
Ridge and I could’ve been carbon copies—same height, same lean muscle over broad shoulders, the same brown hair and blue eyes. The only real difference was that I had a few more years of training, and he had a slightly bigger ego.
I followed him in, the water swallowing me in an instant.
Cold shock bled into something calm, almost meditative.
Down here, the noise in my head faded. Every kick, every stroke, every breath was muscle memory.
In the water, I was in control. The only other thing that gave me that kind of peace was writing—two very different worlds, but both let me disappear.
By the time we wrapped up our warm-up, Coach Saunders was pacing the pool deck, whistle dangling from her fingers.
“All right, sprinters,” she barked, “drill set. Let’s move!”
Coach Saunders was a paradox wrapped in a tracksuit—sharp as a whip, quick to yell, but underneath it all, she cared.
I’d had plenty of coaches over the years, but she was my favorite.
A hard outer shell with a soft center—like an M&M that could destroy your lungs in a 200 IM, the race where you had to swim all four strokes back-to-back without mercy.
I hauled myself out of the pool after the last set, arms on fire as water streamed off my shoulders.
Sitting on the edge, I yanked off my cap and goggles, dragging in a few deep breaths.
My body already felt the strain of the late night I’d pulled.
Five a.m. wake-ups didn’t forgive poor decisions—especially when they started with a dryland workout in the gym and rolled right into a workout in the pool.
Still … I wouldn’t have changed a thing about last night.
Every lost minute of sleep had been worth it. ReadToLiv had messaged me again, and I’d stayed up far later than I’d planned trading words with her. She was sharp, funny in a way that didn’t try too hard, and blunt enough to keep me on my toes. Talking to her was … easy. And that was rare.
It felt good to have someone I could talk to about my writing—really talk.
Nobody in my life knew I was working on a book or that being an author was the dream instead of using the business degree I’d gotten in college.
My whole team probably thought the only thing I knew how to do with words was post a caption on Instagram.
I hadn’t told Ridge or Ledger, because if they laughed it off or looked down on it, I wasn’t sure I could keep writing at all.
After a quick shower in the locker room, Ridge, Ledger, and I left the Wilson Center and made our way to breakfast at the Orange Blossoms Café. My stomach was already in “feed me now” mode, and I ordered enough food that it looked like I hadn’t eaten in a week.
“So, who’s the woman you ditched us for last night?” Ridge asked once we sat down, picking up right where I’d hoped he wouldn’t.
Right. I’d almost forgotten about the lie. They had shown up at my place because I had the better TV, and I’d told them they could stay but I had a date—so I could skip video games and write in peace.
“You don’t know her.” I aimed for casual and landed somewhere between dismissive and guilty. I kept my eyes on the waffle in front of me, carefully filling each square with syrup like it was a highly technical task.
“Where’d you meet this one?” Ledger asked, his smirk pure trouble.
It was almost funny—my two closest friends seemed convinced I cycled through women like it was an Olympic sport. Truth was, I was drowning in lies and half-truths, treading water just enough to keep my double life hidden.
I shoved a too-big bite of waffle into my mouth to stall for time. Technically, I had been with a woman last night. Just not in the way they were picturing.
Once I swallowed, I said, “At the library.”
Ridge’s eyebrows climbed. “The library?”
His reaction was fair. Even when I’d been a student, the library hadn’t exactly been known as my hangout.
“Yeah.” I chewed another bite while the story spun itself. “Met with her in a back room last night.”
Ledger laughed, shaking his head. “That’s one way to spend time at the library.”
If only they knew the truth—that she hadn’t wanted me anywhere near her, that getting close enough to touch her was the furthest thing from what had happened.
“She’s definitely a take-charge kind of woman,” I added, and couldn’t stop the smirk that tugged at my mouth as I remembered how upset she’d been at me for intruding on her space.
I took another bite of waffle, but the food barely registered.
My mind kept drifting back to last night—her sharp tone, the way her eyes had narrowed like she could cut straight through whatever excuse I might throw at her.
Most people laughed off my charm—or leaned into it.
She’d looked at me like she’d seen every single layer I’d built up and wasn’t impressed by any of them.
It should’ve been irritating.
Instead, it had felt like a challenge.
“Take-charge,” I repeated under my breath, more to myself than to Ridge and Ledger.
That didn’t even begin to cover it. She’d defended her space like it was sacred.
And maybe it was. Maybe it was somewhere she could control, a piece of the world she didn’t have to share unless she wanted to. I knew what that felt like.
Ledger was talking about something—splits from yesterday’s time trials—but my attention slid away again.
I kept seeing the way she’d folded her arms, holding her ground while I’d sat there dripping sarcasm.
The memory put this low hum under my skin, not just from the way she looked—though that was its own kind of distraction—but from the way she carried herself.
Confident. Capable. Unobtainable.
And then there was her.
The other her.
The one behind the screen name.
ReadToLiv.
Different, but not. Where the library woman had bristled at me, ReadToLiv had seemed to enjoy sparring with me. She’d let me in—not all the way, but enough to make me want more. She was sharp in her own way, but she’d laughed at my comebacks instead of shooting them down.
Two women. Two completely separate pulls.
And I didn’t know which one I was thinking about more.
I speared another piece of waffle, forcing myself back into the noise and movement of breakfast. Ridge and Ledger were still in the middle of their usual back-and-forth about workouts, and I tossed in the occasional “uh-huh” or “sure” when they looked my way.
But every time I let my mind wander, it went back to her.
Or maybe them.
Either way, neither one was leaving my head anytime soon.
When we finished our breakfast, Ridge stood and gathered his plate. “We’re hitting the recovery center,” he said. “You coming?”
“Not yet,” I told him. “Gonna hang here for a bit.”
Ledger raised a brow like he knew I was up to something but didn’t call me on it. “Suit yourself.”
The second they were gone, I pulled out my phone and opened BookPad, scanning for a certain username.
There were a handful of new messages but none from her.
Not that I should’ve expected anything else—our conversations had always been a late-night thing—but I caught myself wanting to break our unspoken rule.
I tapped her name, and our thread opened, our exchanges from last night staring up at me. I’d stayed up too late—again—because she’d made it too easy to keep talking. She could be sarcastic, blunt, even a little bossy, and I found every bit of it addictive.
Before I could stop myself, my thumbs were already moving.
TheWriteGuy
Do you keep any other authors up late telling them what you do and don’t like about their characters?
A grin tugged at my mouth as I imagined her reading it. I turned on notifications for BookPad, a setting I’d avoided before because I didn’t want to be pinged every time a reader reached out. But she wasn’t just a reader. Not to me.
I was about to slide my phone into my pocket when the little red notification bubble appeared.
ReadToLiv
Nope. You’re the only lucky one.
I chuckled.
TheWriteGuy
I’m flattered to be the only one to receive your criticism.
ReadToLiv
But also my praise. I can’t stop thinking about Cassemir and Raelle. I’ve been reading it every spare minute I get. I’m almost caught up, so you’d better get writing.
Her words did something to me—made me feel pride, maybe? Or the satisfaction of winning over someone who didn’t hand out compliments easily?
TheWriteGuy
I was trying to write last night, but an enticing reader kept drawing me away from my work.
ReadToLiv
Then this is me signing off until your next chapter is uploaded. I need it NOW.
I did not want to sign off with her.
TheWriteGuy
Let’s not be so hasty. I can only write at night, so you’re not distracting me from it right now.
ReadToLiv
Am I not distracting you from your busy day schedule?
TheWriteGuy
Talking to you is way more interesting.
A little too honest, maybe—but true.
ReadToLiv
Are there other readers you message keeping you from writing?
TheWriteGuy
Nope. You’re the only lucky one.
I could almost see her rolling her eyes at me stealing her own words.
ReadToLiv
Hmm, so me questioning your characters’ meet-cute really reeled you in, huh?
TheWriteGuy
Hook, line, and sinker.
Her reply was a laughing emoji, and I felt an irrational sense of pride that I’d made her laugh.
ReadToLiv
But now that I’m further into the story I think their meet-cute goes perfectly with their personalities. Well done.
Her compliment meant more to me than she knew. She seemed to be a hard sell when it came to books and romance, so the fact that I had won her over was a big deal to me.
TheWriteGuy
Thank you.
Does that mean Cassemir has grown on you?
ReadToLiv
He’s growing on me like a weed. I can’t get enough of him.
TheWriteGuy
A solid book boyfriend, then?
ReadToLiv
Definitely.
TheWriteGuy
I should be done with the next chapter in a few days.
ReadToLiv
Hallelujah.
We traded more messages—favorites, random facts, the kind of questions you only ask when you’re trying to figure out what makes someone tick.
Then she flipped it on me.
ReadToLiv
What about you? What do you like to do when you’re not writing?
I hesitated. Swimming was too close to home. Not unsafe exactly, but it was a piece of my identity I wasn’t ready to give her. Not when the anonymity between us felt like both a shield and a secret.
TheWriteGuy
I like to read too, but I also like being physically active. I work out a lot.
I cringed, then quickly sent another message in hopes to make a joke out of it.
TheWriteGuy
Picture me saying that last sentence with my chest puffed out and flexing my biceps.
ReadToLiv
LOL
I like a guy who works out.
Picture me saying that as I lean into you and touch your arm.
I actually laughed out loud, drawing a few looks from nearby tables.
Two hours had vanished in a blur of teasing messages and too much coffee.
And the strangest part? Somewhere between her last joke and this morning’s banter, I’d started thinking about two different women—one who made me grin at my phone and one whose eyes I hadn’t been able to forget since the library.
I was about to type another question when the door to the café swung open—and she walked in.
The woman from the library.
Just like that, I wasn’t going anywhere.