Chapter 25
TWENTY FIVE
DESPITE MY OVERSIZED sweatshirt, a shiver runs through me when I step out onto the patio.
I exhale long and slow, engulfed by the quiet. “It’s always so peaceful out here.”
Matthew places a hand on the small of my back. His pace matches mine as we climb the two wide stone steps.
At the top, he swings the waist-high, wrought-iron gate open.
We step onto the concrete surrounding the pool.
Two modern loungers and a small wicker table sit invitingly to my left, bathed in the soft light spilling from the patio doors below.
But the thought of sitting, of being still while the numbing effect of alcohol dissolves, feels unbearable.
Stillness means thinking.
And thinking means confronting the wreckage of my life.
The impossible choices ahead.
Movement is my only defense.
I’m drawn to the shimmering surface of the pool.
My gaze fixes on the diving board at the opposite end.
I leisurely stroll the length of the turquoise-lit water.
My bare feet pad on the smooth concrete.
Each step pulls me out of the frantic spin of my thoughts and into the simple reality of cool stone underfoot and vast night sky above.
Calm. Cool air. Solid ground. Pure sensation.
Matthew trails behind me, his footsteps matching my pace.
I stop at the base of the diving board. My gaze travels up the simple structure as I sip the lukewarm coffee
“Do you actually jump off this thing?” I ask, my voice raspy. “Or is it just for show?”
Matthew chuckles softly, standing beside me. “It’s functional.” His gaze follows mine to the board jutting over the water. “Can’t say I’ve ever dived off it at night though. Not yet, anyway.” He bumps his shoulder against mine, a playful challenge sparking in his eyes.
My eyes widen. “Me?” I point to my chest, then the board. “On that? No way!” I shake my head. “Are you crazy?! I’ve never stood on one, let alone jumped off one!” The thought alone makes my legs feel weaker.
“Never?” Matthew raises his eyebrows, amusement dancing in his eyes.
I shake my head again. A soft giggle escapes me, a welcome distraction from the ache still radiating through my chest.
“You can just stand on it.” He shrugs.
“Will it hold my weight?” I ask warily, making Matthew laugh.
“It’s quite sturdy. You don’t have to worry about that.”
Curiosity wars with uncertainty. I take the smallest step forward, staring at the board, then back at him.
Matthew’s expression softens, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by quiet earnestness. “Trust me, you won’t end up in the water.”
I laugh nervously. “That’s reassuring.”
He shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips.
“Fine.” I nod, gaze fixed on the white structure. “Do you mind?” I hold out my coffee mug.
“Not at all.” He takes the mug immediately and steps back to give me space.
I plant my hands on my hips, take a deep breath, and press my foot to the rough surface of the board. It feels surprisingly solid. Encouraged, I bring my other foot up, planting it firmly.
A tiny sliver of confidence unfurls.
I take another slow step, moving away from the solid pool deck and out over the glowing turquoise water.
The board holds.
Then, another step.
But this time, the white surface dips beneath my weight. A springy give sends panic straight through my nervous system. My balance wobbles. A startled yelp tears from my throat as my arms flail to steady myself.
“Matt!”
“It barely dipped, don’t worry,” he says, his tone light.
“It’s practically touching the water,” I reply, panic punctuating my words.
“Amy, look at me. Amy,” he urges.
I bring my eyes to his, afraid to move a muscle.
“It’s wide enough, and it’s pretty thick,” he tells me. “Just relax and enjoy yourself.”
He turns and walks toward the stone ledge where the tall trees grow.
“Where are you going?” I ask, my voice rising.
“Just putting our mugs down.” He raises both mugs without turning back.
I stand frozen, lips gripped between my teeth, hands clenched. My eyes are fixed firmly on the white, textured surface beneath my feet, afraid to look anywhere else.
Relax and enjoy myself.
I take a tiny, experimental step. Then another. I force myself to lift my head and risk a quick glance at the water. It shimmers, an electric turquoise glowing against the deep darkness surrounding the pool.
My eyes flick back to the board, heart hammering. But the image of that glowing water lingers. I steal another glance, longer this time. The rippling surface creates shifting, hypnotic patterns on the pool floor.
It’s mesmerizing.
The quiet allure of the water competes with the fear.
The longer I look, the more the ethereal glow pulls me in, promising peace.
A focus outside the chaos in my head. Captivated, I take another step.
Only a foot from the end. Slowly, carefully, I pivot sideways to face the pool.
I allow myself to look down, taking in the silent, glowing depths.
Night breeze on my face. Vast darkness all around.
For a moment, the beauty holds the fear captive.
I feel suspended.
Utterly alone on this breathtaking precipice.
Then the board shifts. A subtle dip and spring that makes my stomach plummet. My head whips around.
Matthew is standing a couple of steps behind me.
My hand flies out, palm flat toward him. “Whoa! What are you doing?” My voice is sharp with renewed panic.
“Nothing.” He slides his hands into his pockets, infuriatingly relaxed. “Left our coffees.” He gestures with his chin. “Came to check out the view with you.” He offers a confident smile, oblivious to the terror he just ignited.
“Well, you can enjoy it alone. I’m getting off.” I try to turn back toward the deck, my balance precarious on the oscillating surface.
“Why? Stay. Enjoy,” he says lightly.
“No! Matt, I’m going to fall!! Please!” Every shift of my weight sends terrifying wobbles through the board. “Oh my God…” One more movement will send me plunging into the deep water below. The turquoise depths pull at me, promising an icy shock.
“I’m not good with deep water.” The words escape in a whimper.
My hands clench at my sides, gripping railings that aren’t there.
The terror in my tone finally cuts through to Matthew. “Okay, okay,” he says quickly. The teasing vanishes. “My bad. Let me help you back.”
He takes a step toward me, extending a hand. But his weight shifts the board again.
It’s the final straw.
The surface gives a sickening dip beneath my shaky feet.
A strangled scream rips from my throat.
I’m going down.
Survival instinct takes over. I throw myself forward, launching blindly at Matthew. I crash hard against his chest, burying my face in the thin cotton of his tank top, fingers gripping its straps. His arms wrap around me, absorbing the impact and steadying us on the bouncing board.
“You’re going down with me,” I mumble nervously into his chest.
Deep, unrestrained laughter rumbles against my forehead. He holds me steady until the last tremor subsides, his arms a secure cage around me.
“I thought it would be relaxing coming out here,” I admit, my voice muffled.
I lift my head to let out a shaky sigh, braving a quick glance at the glowing water below.
The fall still feels terrifyingly possible.
“I’m pretty sure I have a phobia of bridges,” I blurt out. A desperate grasp for an explanation.
Matthew’s chest vibrates with another soft chuckle. His hands shift to my hair, fingertips brushing stray strands away from my temples and cheeks.
“This hardly qualifies as a bridge, love,” he murmurs. His endearment is dropped so naturally it almost slips past me.
Almost.
This confirms my muddled brain wasn’t playing tricks on me earlier.
Love.
My gaze is drawn upward.
The sight holds me captive.
The upward-cast glow from the pool illuminates his face, catching the sharp angle of his jaw and highlighting his cheekbones.
His jade eyes are deep pools of liquid green.
His tousled brown hair gleams. The white tank top highlights the sculpted lines of his shoulders and the hard curve of his biceps.
He looks unguarded, overwhelmingly male, and devastatingly handsome in this ethereal light.
The earlier fear, the exhaustion, the chaos of the night… it all recedes, leaving only this.
Only him.
His hands frame my face.
His throat works as he swallows, his gaze softening, the fire banking into warm embers of concern. His thumbs gently stroke my cheekbones.
The simple, tender gesture makes my shaky legs feel decidedly weaker.
Relief floods me when he breaks the charged silence. “Shall we sit?”
I manage a weak nod.
Standing feels precarious right now. Physically and emotionally.
But instead of moving us backward, Matthew’s hands slide gently to my upper arms, steadying me.
Realization dawns. “Right here?” My voice squeaks, eyes darting down at the narrow white plank.
“Right here,” he confirms, amusement dancing over his face. “It’s the best spot, trust me.”
Before I can talk myself out of it, he turns me around so my back is to him. “I got you,” he murmurs, hands finding my waist.
He lowers me until I’m seated, straddling the board.
He settles behind me. His legs flank mine, creating a surprising pocket of stability.
The terrifying fear of falling recedes, replaced by the startling reality of sitting here, suspended just above the glowing water.
My hands find the cool, textured edge of the board right in front of my thighs.
I gaze down. From this low vantage point, the pool looks immense.
A vast, silent lagoon of shifting turquoise light.
The trees above and the distant house lights are mesmerizing.
The panic feels distant. Replaced by peace and awe.
“This is the best spot,” I whisper, taken by this view.
“Yup.”
He pulls me back until my shoulders rest against the solid wall of his chest. Once I’m settled there, his hands return to his knees.
“Especially now,” he adds, a low rumble against my back.
And just like that, I am rendered powerless against the deep warmth unfurling in my heart, pushing back the exhaustion and the ache settled there.
For this suspended moment, the quiet beauty of the night absorbs the chaos of the day.
The frantic energy drains away, leaving a fragile peace.
I focus on the dancing light on the water, on the silhouette of pine branches against the indigo sky, trying to anchor myself to this sanctuary.
This temporary sanctuary.
Because the moment I leave the solid warmth of Matthew’s body, the quiet of his yard…
The moment this night ends…
Reality awaits.
James and his cruel deal.
Bancroft, immune to the petition.
The café, my purpose, my haven, threatened from all sides.
“I’m so tired.” The confession slips out on a sigh.
Matthew’s arms wrap around me, engulfing me in a tight, protective embrace. “I know, love,” he whispers.
The ache returns to my chest.
Sharp.
Suffocating.
My life is built on foundations threatening to crumble beneath me. Much like this board feels beneath us, only the drop would be infinitely deeper.
My throat tightens. Tears burn my eyes. I blink rapidly, trying to hold them back, but one escapes, tracing a hot path down my cheek.
I swipe it with the back of my hand.
Silence stretches out, taut and humming like a wire about to snap.
It is so deep I can almost hear my own frantic heartbeat.
Then, despite my best efforts, a tiny, hitching sound escapes me.
My sob is caught and swallowed before it can fully form.
A tremor runs through me as I suppress it.
In response, Matthew’s arms tighten around me, just a fraction.
A silent consolation. An unspoken promise of support that, instead of calming me, makes the unshed tears burn hotter behind my eyelids.
“All those years, moving around, never staying in one place too long… I thought I’d finally found it,” I whisper, my voice choked. “A place to call home. My very own business, real friends… even a fiancé. A complete life.”
The words hang in the air, shattered by a sudden storm of sobs.
My composure crumbles and I fall apart.
Tears stream down my face, hot and unstoppable. My body shakes with the force of my grief, an anguished cry escaping my lips. I grip the edges of the board, my fingers digging into the textured surface trying to hold myself together. But it’s no use. The pain, the loss, the sheer exhaustion…
It all comes crashing down on me.
Matthew’s arms hold me even tighter. He lowers his head, pressing his cheek against my temple.
I feel the steady rise and fall of his chest against my back.
A calm, anchoring rhythm amid my storm. My trembling hands reach up, finding his forearms, the muscles corded and strong beneath my fingertips.
I cling to him like a lifeline.