34. Chapter 34
The lake looks like an exquisitely kept secret.
Not in the dramatic way Pitch was, but a kind of quiet secret that feels like it belongs entirely to itself. Mist hovers low over the surface, thin as breath, and the water reflects the sky in that delicate, early-morning blue that makes everything feel temporarily forgivable.
I didn’t know places like this could even exist.
Which, I suppose, tracks.
It had taken some convincing, but I’d eventually wore Alex down enough to get us out of the cabin to do something that wasn’t staring at each other.
He stands at the edge of the dock, evaluating the terrain that he’s clearly not accustomed to. It would hilarious if it wasn’t so damn pathetic. His hands are loose at his sides, but his posture is alert.
I’m convinced he thinks something is near the point of crawling out of the water just to take a bite of him. It’s clear the man doesn’t have outside recreational activities he enjoys that are… well, legal.
Though I did get him to dress reasonable for our little hike down here—even if I had to pick it out myself. The dark jeans, boots, and a jacket I wouldn’t let him button up. The sight of him without tension coiled through every muscle is… appropriately disorienting.
Or inappropriate?
Jury’s out still.
“You look like you’re preparing to interrogate the fish,” I tease as I come to stand beside him. Trying to see what he does as he glares down at the dark water, trying to figure out his rod and reel.
“They’re evasive.”
I snicker. “You’re gripping it like it owes you money. Christ, Alex. Relax.”
He glances down at the pole in his hands, then back at me. “It’s just unfamiliar.”
“You don’t say,” I grin.
He turns his body slightly toward me, posture attentive in a way that’s new. It’s irritatingly endearing to watch him actually suck at something. Even if it is just fishing.
“Explain it then,” he grunts.
I step closer and reach out without thinking, adjusting his hands on the rod. My fingers brush his knuckles and I don’t miss the way he stills. My mouth twitching as he leans into me a bit.
“Relax your grip,” I explain softly. “You’re not trying to win a fight.”
“It sort of seems counterintuitive,” He argues as he strangles the poor rod.
“Fishing isn’t about force, Alex. It’s all about patience. Go ahead and find some, I know it’s in there.” I grin despite myself.
He hums softly, looking back to me over his shoulder. “You’re enjoying this entirely too much, little fox.”
“Oh, I absolutely am.” I laugh and step back, gesturing to the water. “Okay, so now that you aren’t trying to murder the rod into submission, give it a good cast. Be mindful of me standing here though, please.”
He does as I ask him to.
Kind of.
I burst into laughter as he snaps it forward too quickly, and the hook sails past the water entirely, clanging against a rock with an embarrassing metallic ping.
We both just stare at it before Alex finally blinks away his shock.
“I have clearly done something wrong,” he mutters.
I bite down on my lip to keep from absolutely cackling. “You tried to overpower it.”
“That is my default setting.”
“I’ve noticed.”
He retrieves the line and tries again. This time it lands in the water, hard enough to splash and send ripples scattering like startled birds.
“Better, but still aggressive.” I praise despite my amusement.
“I don’t understand how you’re meant to not try.”
I lean against the railing and watch him, really watch him; the tension in his shoulders and the way his jaw sets in determination.
“You don’t make it happen. You just have to let it.” I shrug.
He frowns at the lake. “That seems inefficient.”
“Should probably let the fish know that then.”
It’s comical watching him wait here in the silence. Wind brushing the surface of the water, sunlight breaking through the mist in soft shards. Somewhere behind us, a bird calls. All of it so out of place from the office he spends his time in—or Pitch.
“You’re overthinking,” I murmur after I watch him stand board straight for near five minutes straight.
“I don’t know how not to.”
I soften before I can stop myself. “You don’t have to do anything right now.”
And as if sensing that I just pointed out that he can relax, the bobber dips. Alex effectively stiffens and jerks the rod back so fast he nearly hits himself with it. Pulling up nothing at all.
He looks so dejected that I don’t know—he almost seems normal. And normal is an entirely different look on Alex. I can’t help the fit of laughter that breaks through me as he turns to me, one brow arched.
“I am so glad you are having the time of your life while I suffer.”
“You are not suffering by a long shot.” I laugh.
He turns back to the water again and decides to ignore my immense amusement, I guess. Now focused in a different way with the pressure of catching something settling on his shoulders.
It takes me a bit, but I manage to wrangle all the laughter into a proper place in my chest before continuing my instruction. Who would ever think that I would be teaching the great doctor Alex something?
“Now,” I murmur and he pulls the line, not quite as hard this time.
I watch as the rod bends and his eyes widen just enough to show that he might actually find excitement in the mundane.
“Steady, now guide it.” I purr as I step closer.
The fish breaks the surface, silver and thrashing, and Alex lets out a surprised laugh before he can stop himself.
The sound hits me like a punch.
I freeze, because that laugh?
It’s open and so very real.
He reels the fish in carefully, concentration etched across his face. When he finally lifts it free of the water, he looks… stunned.
“I did it,” he breathes.
“You did.”
He glances at me and smiles. A warm, bright smile that has nothing to do with manipulation or mind games, and everything to do with joy. And it’s devastating in both the best and worst ways. It’s the kind of smile that spells my doom in glorious red letters. And my world tilts for it.
After I regain my composure, we release the fish back into the water. Standing shoulder to shoulder as we watch it disappear beneath the surface. The ripples fading until the lake is still once more.
“This is not unpleasant,” Alex sighs.
“High praise, doctor.”
He looks down to me and I offer him a slight smile, just enough to let him know that right now we aren’t fighting. And that yes, I am having a good time.
“You were right,” he murmurs.
“About what?”
“Patience.”
I hum and bump my shoulder into his softly.
“You’re going to be an alright fishermen, Alexander.” I whisper.
He simply snorts.