Chapter 6
Eyes on the horizon, Nic increased the throttle and blasted through the dusk.
Gritting his teeth, he tightened his grip on the handles.
In the chill of the early evening, his mood reflected the sky.
He’d normally stand on a jet ski, letting his body absorb the bumps and lifts of the current.
This evening, he sat, tense and determined, letting the water jolt and unseat him.
Moments before the ride, he’d ended an unpleasant call.
How could his own mother blame him for what Theo himself had always called an accident?
Hurling down his phone, he’d picked up the keys to the craft they’d moored on the temporary jetty to entice buyers.
It had been shipped in a few months ago along with a couple of kayaks to sell the luxury Lakeland lifestyle, but, like the soulless show home he was staying in, it hadn’t quite done its job.
Jerking the throttle, he sped into an uncontrolled run over the dark water, and on a whim swung around, checking behind him for the ghost of a rope.
Nothing but small waves followed in his wake.
It was a very different day last summer when the sun shone on the bay, the breeze blew in their faces and Theo stood behind him on the two-person jet ski, laughing as they tore up the water.
They were in their seaside home town of Brighton to celebrate a significant win for the company.
The sea was choppy, and they were having fun doing jumps off the waves.
When Nic accelerated and turned sharply, Theo fell into the water.
He continued to laugh, as they had done together, looking back to locate his sopping sibling, but next thing he knew his brother was screaming and their world had been turned upside down.
Today, on this unwelcoming lake, as his equipment lurched to one side before righting itself at the last moment, he tortured himself with questions and regrets.
What kind of speed had they been going at?
Why hadn’t he noticed the stray tow rope when hiring the ski?
Why had Theo hopped on the back? It should have been me, he thought, as he twisted the handlebars and unbalanced himself once more.
Ignoring the pain of bouncing around on the seat, he pushed his speedometer further, feeling the spray from the back of the ski.
How hard was it to flip one of these? Nic glanced up at the huge swathe of land that lay empty apart from one house and a small hut.
As he slowed, in the near darkness, moving towards the place he’d been forced to lay his hat for now, he hoped that stubborn son-of-a-bitch Eddie Wilson wasn’t watching him from his ramshackle cabin.
Finally letting go of the throttle, Nic felt the tightening of muscles that would burn like hell tomorrow.
But what was his pain compared to his brother’s?
Close to the dock, he cut the engine. Nature wasn’t on his side, and he resented tranquillity he couldn’t feel in his heart.
He sat there in silence, thinking back over the calamitous year before telling himself to buck up.
A TV dinner awaited – once he’d put some lights on, closed the shutters and worked out how to use the microwave.
As he drifted towards the wooden jetty, a movement caught his eye.
A woman. A rather naked woman. What on earth was she doing wading out of his lake at eight o’clock at night?
The foreman had mentioned he’d spotted the odd wild swimmer on his land when they were constructing the show home, even though multiple signs pointed out it was a private beach.
Nic vowed to call the builders in the morning and check up on the new gates as he grabbed the dock line and clipped the jet ski to the floating platform.
Walking back to the house, he glanced back in her direction, but she was gone.
While he appreciated an attractive woman as much as the next guy, she didn’t belong on his beach.
Maybe he could cordon off a chunk of the lake to create a no-swimming zone?
Personally, he was done with water for good.