Chapter 15
JORDAN
I have three bars on my cell phone. Three bars and a full battery. I can feel the tension in my chest ease a bit. After looking up countless river-rafting locations for today, I’m relieved to find the reviews were accurate—my mobile carrier has reception here like they claimed.
I text my mom one last time before zipping my phone into a plastic baggie and putting it into my swimsuit pocket.
“Jordan!” Colton jogs past a shack with a row of kayaks and rafts leaned up against its outer wall and bear-hugs me.
I pat him on the back several times before letting go. “Hey, man. Been too long.”
“I know. It hardly feels real being back in the mountains after being in DC for so long. If I ever hear the words ‘networking’ and ‘politician’ again, it will be too soon.”
I wince. “That bad?”
“Worse.” Colton strokes a hand through dark hair that, even after a night of camping, looks neatly arranged. He may not aspire to be a senator like his dad, but his hair says politician through and through.
I suck in a breath, relishing the crisp mountain air. “Well, let’s go rafting and forget all about our problems.”
“Done,” Colton says as we start walking.
When Colton and I come around the shack, we find Ji, Missy, and Paige with their backs to us as they talk to a middle-aged raft guide who looks more granola than what I had for breakfast. The man wears toe shoes, cargo shorts, and a faded bucket hat, and he has a deep tan likely from spending 365 days a year under the sun. The wildness in his eyes tells me we’re in for a good ride.
Just the thought of an adrenaline-inducing trip down the river makes me feel like someone’s shoved a ball of energy down my throat. How long has it been since I’ve done something like this?
“Hey, look who made it!” Colton shouts to the group.
Ji and Missy turn around, waving and smiling in my direction, but Paige just glances over her shoulder before quickly turning away and asking the river guide a question.
“Oof,” Colton mutters. “What was that, man?”
“What?” I ask, trying to sound like my newfound ball of energy wasn’t just yanked out of my stomach with a fish hook.
“Paige. She barely looked at you. What is that about?”
I blow out a deep breath, wondering what I should admit to first—that I’ve been a terrible best friend or that I tried to interfere where I shouldn’t have.
“Is this about California?” Colton asks.
My eyebrows furrow. “California?”
Colton clears his throat and sends me one of those polished smiles I’ve seen on his dad’s campaign posters. He pats me on the shoulder. “I’m going to grab you a life jacket and helmet.”
Before I can ask him what he’s not telling me, Ji runs over. “Hey! Mitch, our rafting guide, says he’s ready to give us the rundown and go over a few rules when you’re ready.”
When Colton comes back, I strap on the same yellow jacket and black helmet as everyone else. We all stand in a loose semicircle around Mitch as he walks us through the basics of rafting.
Paige stands across from me, on the other side of our small group, and my eyes are drawn to her like we’re opposite poles of high-powered magnets. It’s been over three days since we’ve seen, called, or texted each other, and standing mere feet from her right now is acute torture. Her rich-brown hair is in two braids, and she’s wearing a sky-blue T-shirt with athletic shorts, making it impossible for me not to notice the toned muscles of her legs.
Paige doesn’t know it, but she’s playing dirty. How am I supposed to get her out of my mind when she’s in her sporty clothes? It’s just one of the dozens of Paige looks that pull me in like a siren song. It takes all my willpower to turn and focus on Mitch while he dives into the dos and don’ts of rafting. My fingers start to drum impatiently on my life jacket.
I need to find time to talk with Paige alone. I have so much I want to say, but most importantly, she needs to know that I am genuinely sorry and that I’m fully on her side, no matter what. Paige deserves happiness, and if she finds that with Ian, then who am I to stop her?
I take a deep breath, trying to replace the weight in my chest with the cool mountain air, but just thinking about Paige with another guy makes me feel like I just dropped Mentos and Diet Coke into my most vital organ and am moments away from watching my heart explode. But how I feel doesn’t matter. I promised myself that I would step aside when another man entered her life, and I plan to honor that—I just didn’t imagine it would be this hard.
I’ve never had to share Paige before. She’s dated guys but never seriously, just nameless people I could blur out. I never had to see them, so I pretended they didn’t exist. But now, with Ian, it’s different. He’s not just a face but someone I know who has major history with Paige. Paige loved Ian once. What’s to stop it from happening again?
I choke back the thought that one day, I won’t be the one getting texts when Paige can’t decide which shoes to buy. I won’t be the person she calls to come and kill moths in her room during Colorado’s moth season, and I won’t be the one who gets to see her face when she takes the first bite of her Nana’s red-velvet cheesecake on New Year’s.
I’m not ready to let her go.
But ready or not, I have to put my money—or rather my heart—where my mouth is and actually keep the promise I made six months ago. No matter how I feel, I can’t give Paige the life she wants, and Paige deserves someone who can.
PAIGE
I’m weak.
Despite internal pep talks in my tent, at breakfast, and in the rickety old rafting shack where we buckled into our highly attractive rafting gear, my gaze keeps wandering to Jordan, wondering if he’s missed me like I miss him. I’m like a tether ball. Every time I try to put space between me and Jordan, I come circling back.
I clench my fists around the two straps dangling from my life jacket and remind myself I can do hard things, like resisting the urge to run to Jordan and end this stupid conflict between us. Then I remember why the conflict started, and I’m back to square one—frustrated, upset, and confused over why Jordan won’t support me in my dating choices.
But why does it matter what Jordan thinks? I’ve spent some good quality time with Ian this week, and I know he’s changed. I guess at this point, I just wish things between Jordan and me could be back to normal. Being at odds with him is the worst.
“Now, if you get flung out of the boat for any reason,” Mitch tells us, “just remember to stay calm, don’t panic, and never try to stand up in the water. Instead, get into the white water rafting position, pointing your nose and toes to the sky. Nose up. Toes up, people.” He rattles off the safety instructions as if he could repeat them in his sleep.
“Now, this”—Mitch pulls out a small drawstring bag, tugging a bit of rope from its center—“is a throw bag. If you fall out, I will toss this bag to you and…”
Mitch continues his speech, and something in the way his voice drones makes my eyes feel heavy. I didn’t get much sleep last night. Missy and Colton both snore, something I’m sure they would be horrified to find out. Which is why, despite the dark circles around our eyes, Ji and I didn’t say anything to them—although it might be the first thing they have in common. Maybe we should have said something.
Mitch claps his hands, making me jolt upright. He points to the raft. “Okay, the front is for our thrill seekers who don’t mind getting a little wet.”
My eyes instinctively flick to Jordan, knowing he’ll want that seat, but his hand stays down. Instead, Missy and Colton both fling their hands into the air at the same time.
Missy glares at Colton. “He said thrill seekers. I’m pretty sure the only thing you’re used to seeking is your hair gel.”
Colton leans toward Missy, whispering something in her ear. Missy’s mouth twists in disgust before she turns and pushes Colton in the chest. A tiny smile of victory tilts Colton’s mouth.
Mitch’s eyes widen as if not knowing how to proceed after this schoolyard display.
“Just ignore them,” Ji says. “That’s what we do.”
“Okay,” Mitch says, drawing it out. “So you two, um… can be in the front.” Mitch passes Missy and Colton their oars, and they step forward, staring each other down.
Mitch grabs the next oar. “I’ll be in the back, and...”
“I call the seat by the instructor.” Ji steps toward Mitch and snatches an oar from the pile at his feet.
“Well, I guess that just leaves you two in the middle,” Mitch says to Jordan and me.
We look at each other sheepishly before grabbing our oars and wordlessly settling into the raft across from one another.
The first few minutes downstream are calm and peaceful. The gentle water molds around the raft as we glide into the heart of the forest. Pine trees surround us on both sides, making me feel cradled and secure. I glance at Jordan. He’s got his eyes closed, and the sun dances along his skin as it weaves in and out of the majestic pines above us.
If it didn’t scream first-rate stalker , I would take a picture, because this is Jordan—a part of Jordan, at least. The part he puts in a box on a shelf and pretends he doesn’t care that it collects dust. But in this one rare glimpse of him, I see more freedom and joy across his face than I have in a long time.
“Mitch said the deeper you dig your oar into the water, the better,” Colton tells Missy.
“I am digging deep.” To emphasize her point, Missy plunges her oar down until most of it is underwater. She repeats this several times before challenging Colton with a smug smile.
A show tune melody from Annie Get Your Gun pops into my head as I watch them, and I can’t help but hum “Anything You Can Do” as we float downriver.
When I spot the whitecaps ahead, though, the snarky show tune catches in my throat. My eyes widen as I turn back toward Mitch, hoping he’s about to say something like On second thought, those rapids are pretty big. Let’s pull over and try again tomorrow.
But Mitch crows like he’s Peter Pan gathering the Lost Boys for an epic adventure. “Paddle hard. This one’s going to be good.”
Cold water sprays me from every direction, and all I can think is Dig deep, dig deep, dig deep, on repeat as I keep thrusting my oar into the river, but the rapids jostle us back and forth so much that half the time my oar doesn’t even connect with the water.
A yip rends the air, but this time, it’s Jordan. He’s smiling ear to ear as he rides this rapid like he’s on a thoroughbred at the Kentucky Derby. Seems that dusty box of his is coming off the shelf.
Colton joins in his whooping, which is followed by Missy’s even louder whooping.
For a moment, the world is just excited screams and raging rapids. And then I see a big rock jutting out of the river. Mitch calls for all of us to paddle hard to avoid colliding with it, but it’s too late. The rock hits the raft right beneath me, and in one fluid motion, the whole thing tilts. I lose my foothold and slam into Jordan, knocking us both off the raft and into the roiling water.
In the water, I flail about, watching our yellow raft slip away as it rushes downstream. Mitch hollers something and tosses the throw bag so he can pull us in, but it lands several feet shy of where I’m trying to stay afloat.
Water rushes at my face as I pop in and out of the rapids. I try to think of what Mitch said to do in situations like this, but my brain’s chosen flight over fight, so I exercise my primitive instincts and scream, thrashing my arms and legs spastically beneath the water.
“Paige!” I hear Jordan yelling between bouts of water crashing into my face. “Nose up! Toes up!”
Nose up. Toes up. Right. Triggered into action, I tuck my legs in front of me so I’m facing downstream. My heart is galloping inside my chest . Once more, I try thinking back to Mitch’s pre-rafting lecture to know what to do next, but I can’t remember for the life of me. Maybe literally.
Just then, I feel Jordan’s hand briefly grab onto my wrist. He’s right beside me. My heart and mind begin to calm at his touch, and even though water bubbles around us like a giant out-of-control Jacuzzi, I know we’ll get through this.
“Paige, are you okay?” he shouts.
“Yes,” I say, trying to focus my attention on the clouds drifting lazily in the sky, completely at odds with the fierce rapids around me.
Jordan lets a burst of water pass between us before speaking again. “Do you see that stretch of calm water to the right of the rapids?”
I tuck my chin to my chest, quickly glancing forward and spotting the patch of docile water. “Yes.”
“Good. When we get there, we’re going to flip onto our stomachs and swim as hard as we can to the shore. Don’t let your legs down until we get to the shallowest part of the bank. Okay?”
“Okay.” I try not to sound as panicked as I feel.
Jordan finds my hand and squeezes. “We’ve got this.”
His words give me the courage I need to silence my panicked thoughts, and when he tells me to go, I swim my heart out.