Chapter 17 #3
Tucker immediately jumps in after, his head above the water swimming toward Mindy and Greg.
Riley cheers like she’s front row at a concert. “Mommy, did you see that?”
“I sure did,” I say, laughing.
I watch Greg grab Mindy around the waist, and in true Mindy fashion, she immediately dunks him under the water with a shriek of laughter.
He retaliates with a splash to her face, and soon they’re waist-deep in the lake, splashing and teasing like a couple of kids at summer camp. It’s ridiculous and adorable.
And then, out of the corner of my eye, I catch movement.
Miles stands, brushing water from his palms, and pulls his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. My breath stutters.
The sunlight hits his skin like it’s got a personal grudge, outlining every inch of his toned muscles, the lines of his abs practically glowing.
The tattoo spans the upper left side of his chest, curving up and over his shoulder, like armor inked onto skin.
It begins with the bold figure of an eagle, its wings mid-flight, one sweeping across his chest the other stretching up and around the curve.
The feathers are intricately detailed, each one shaded with such precision it almost looks like they could ruffle in the wind.
Just beneath the eagle’s outstretched wing, nestled over the slope of his collarbone, is a compass, its points sharp, steady, like he’s searching for direction or holding onto one. The lines are crisp, purposeful, inked in black and faint grays, the needle tilted ever so slightly west.
Trailing down from the compass, vines twist into the shape of roses that bloom over his shoulder and creep along his bicep, petals soft and shaded, delicate in contrast to the strength of his build.
And tucked into the negative space between the roses and the eagle’s wing is a butterfly—small, quiet, almost easy to miss.
Its wings are spread open, inked with gentle swirls and symmetry, like a whispered reminder that even hardened men carry softness somewhere.
Together, the tattoo feels like a story: wild and free, lost and found, strong but not without grace. Just like him.
“You good, Bambi?” he teases, voice low and knowing.
I blink and look away quickly at Greg and Mindy in the water.
“Yes,” I mumble, heat blooming in my cheeks. But the smile that tugs at my lips gives me away.
Riley tugs on his arm eagerly. “Can I try?”
Miles glances at me, waiting for the go-ahead.
Riley’s already bouncing like she’s had three sodas.
“You’ll catch her, right?” I say with a playful side glance.
He doesn’t hesitate. “Always,” he says, eyes on mine, voice softer now. Something in it makes my chest ache, in the best kind of way.
He turns back to Riley, tapping the tip of her nose. “Let me go first, Wild Child. Then it’s your turn.”
She giggles. “I like that name.”
We both watch as he strides to the rope, grabs it in one strong hand, and backs up.
“Don’t show off too hard,” Greg calls from the water, grinning.
“No promises,” Miles fires back, and with a running start he swings out over the lake, muscles flexing, wind catching his hair just right.
He lets go at the perfect moment, slicing through the air before disappearing into the water with a clean, glorious splash.
Riley claps and jumps up and down on the shore. “That was so cool!”
He surfaces and slicks his hair back, looking way too good for someone who just belly-flopped into a lake.
“All right, Wild Child, your turn!”
She practically launches toward the tree, grabbing the rope with a burst of fearless energy only a five-year-old could have.
“Riley, hold on tight and let go when you get close to Miles,” I call, standing just behind her, one hand out like I can catch her from here if something goes wrong, even though she’s clearly braver than all of us combined.
“I’ve got this!” she shouts.
And she does.
With a gleeful squeal, she kicks off and swings across the water, legs flying out behind her.
“Now, Riley!” Miles shouts, his arms stretched out in the lake, ready and waiting.
She lets go at just the right moment, pinches her nose midair, and splashes down into his arms with perfect timing. He catches her with a grin, steadying her as she surfaces and flings her wet curls back dramatically.
“That. Was. So. Cool!” she squeals.
“Go, Riley!” I shout, clapping like a proud mom. “That was amazing!”
Mindy hoots from the water, slinging her arms in the air like a wild cheerleader. “Viv! Your turn!”
“Come on, Mommy!” Riley adds from her new perch on Miles’s shoulders, pumping her fists in the air. Her giggles echo across the lake.
I shake my head, laughing. That deep caught off guard laugh that bubbles up before your brain can stop it. It feels like the first time in forever that joy doesn’t come with guilt tucked in behind it.
“I don’t have spare clothes!” I call out, even though I already know I’m giving in.
Mindy throws her arms wide. “Who cares? Neither do we, just get in!”
“Yeah, come on, Bambi!” Miles joins in, that damn grin stretched across his face like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me.
I groan dramatically and take a step toward the rope. “I swear, if I end up bashing into this tree like a cartoon character—”
“You won’t,” Miles calls. “And if you do, I promise to fish you out like a gentleman.”
“Oh, well then, perfect,” I shoot back, grabbing the rope. “That’s very reassuring.”
“You want me to catch you too?” he asks, and there’s a tease in his voice that curls straight through me.
I glance over at him, water dripping down his chest, his hair slicked back, and Riley still perched on his shoulders like some kind of smug cheer captain.
And yeah…those arms?
I wouldn’t mind them wrapped around me either.
“I’m fine,” I lie, trying to hold back my smile.
I take a deep breath, heart pounding as I push off the tree and let the rope lift me into the air.
The world blurs—water, sky, cheers, Riley, Miles—and then I let go.
I hit the lake with a splash that steals my breath. Cool water surrounds me in a rush, and I pop up laughing, my hair stuck to my face, water dripping down my cheeks.
Riley claps and whoops from the shore. “You did it, Mommy!”
Miles swims closer, grinning. “See? Told you I wouldn’t let you down.”
“You didn’t catch me,” I point out, treading water beside him.
“You didn’t ask,” he says with a wink. “But next time? Just say the word.”
And god help me, I just might.