Icy Waters

The committee in charge of the Nordic Dive were monsters. You couldn’t convince Ian otherwise. He shuffled from the living room to the kitchen and blinked bleary-eyed at Danny. “How are you awake before me?”

Danny stared without blinking at the dripping coffeepot. “Define awake.”

“I can’t define anything.” Ian stumbled to the pot and inhaled a deep whiff, hoping the swirling fumes would start soaking the caffeine into his body through his nose. “Why do they insist that this dive start at sunrise?”

“Tradition.”

“I’d like to tell them where to stick their tradition.”

“Our tradition. Your great-grandfather’s and mine, remember?”

“Stupid, competitive, early rising bastards.”

Danny snickered and shoved a steaming mug into Ian’s hand before picking up his tea. “Kilt today?”

Ian adjusted the tartan over his swim trunks. “Yeah, tradition and all that bullshit.”

“Forgot about your sailor’s mouth when you’re grumpy.”

Ian plopped into a kitchen chair. “Yeah, well, staying up ’til three seemed like a good idea at the time.”

What he didn’t say was how he couldn’t have gone to bed sooner even if he’d tried. Watching Claire struggling, fighting for her son. The old, wrenching grief from his own mother leaving him without a goodbye—without so much as a note for the past twenty years—had nearly swallowed him whole.

Danny and Claire had later joined the group in the living room. Where after drinks, many hugs and laughter, his grief was numbed again. He even managed to make Claire laugh so hard, wine came out her nose.

“How’s Claire?” Ian asked.

Danny’s yawn nearly swallowed his head. “She finally fell into a deep sleep about an hour ago.”

“You gonna wake her?”

“Nah, I’ll let her rest.”

“But she’ll miss your dive.”

He waved it off, but Ian saw the disappointment. Sure, it was a silly competition, but it brought out the entire town, including tourists if the snow hadn’t arrived. Braving the cold, they’d cheer for their favorite diver and end up at Flygande for celebratory potluck and fellowship. Danny had looked forward to sharing it all with Claire.

“Fin’s first time, isn’t it?” Danny opened the oven and pulled out some of Ylva’s re-heated bread, placing it next to a spread of strawberry jam, soft-boiled eggs, thinly sliced cucumber, and cheese.

“Yeah, it is.” Ian did a double take of the table. “How long have you been up?”

Danny shrugged and slathered butter on the steaming slice before layering cheese and dipping it in an egg.

A thump and a low curse came from the living room. A few more bumps and a few more curses later, a ragged-haired Fin staggered into the kitchen with his shirt inside out. “Wait. Emelie is still sleeping? Forget it, I’m not going.”

Ian caught him by said shirt and pointed to the tag. “Can’t just dive for the ladies, Finlay.”

“Sure I can.”

But he didn’t have to. A loud bang from a door opening down the hall was followed by sloppy, stumbling feet. Fin scrambled to fix his shirt before an every-hair-out-of-place, raccoon-eyed Emelie barreled into the kitchen and gripped the wall. “Did I miss it?” She panted.

They all grinned.

“Coffee.” Danny handed her a full mug. “We leave in an hour, but the dive isn’t for another two hours.”

“Where’s Claire?” They all pointed to the room, and she gasped. “No, she has to get up.”

Danny caught her arm. “Let her sleep. It was a rough night.”

“You don’t understand. She and I ... I mean, she worked so hard ... I mean ... she has to get up, okay?”

She tore out of his grip, and Danny cast a confused glance at Ian.

“Hell, if I know.”

Danny had just finished filling another mug with tea when two very disheveled women appeared in the kitchen to the joy of two men. You could read it on Danny and Fin’s face that the sight of messy hair, pillow-wrinkled faces and half-opened, puffy eyes were the highlight of their morning.

“I was going to let you sleep.” Danny held out a steaming cup for Claire.

She stumbled past it and planted her lips on his. Fin snickered and Ian quickly caught the cup before it spilled, while his best friend received a wake-up call better than caffeine.

Either Claire wasn’t awake enough to notice she had an audience, or their renewed promises not to allow Greyson to tear apart the good they had pushed her over the line of not caring.

“Damn.” Fin shook his head and Ian silently agreed.

The woman could kiss. No wonder Danny was tipsy for it. They both gawked for a few more seconds until her tongue slipped into his mouth. Ian coughed up coffee while Fin tossed puppy eyes at an oblivious Emelie.

Claire tore away and left Danny without a breath to breathe. “Just wanted to thank you again for helping me last night.” She reached around him for her mug like she didn’t just send him into another dimension.

Fin and Ian elbowed each other when he didn’t move.

“You ready, Claire?” Emelie, now freshly caffeinated, retied her ponytail. “Almost out of time.”

“Coming.”

This woke Danny from his stupor. “Where are you going? What about breakfast?”

“It’s a surprise, and I’ll get food.” She smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be there in time to see you dive.” She touched his lips with her fingers and then dove in for one more heavy kiss before tearing away and following Emelie down the stairs.

“Where are they going?” Danny asked again, clearly disappointed at how abruptly that last kiss ended. “She’s been heading out with Em several times a week, but they never tell me what they’re doing.” He rubbed the back of his neck and groaned. “What the hell can be so important this early in the morning?”

“Don’t know.” Ian slurped down the rest of his coffee and stuffed one more of Ylva’s bread slices in his mouth. “Come on, both of you. None of us are backing out now.”

Danny glanced around the apartment. “Fin, you sure you didn’t see my phone on the table last night?”

“Nope. Even checked under it.”

“I swear I had it in my pocket.”

“It’ll show up,” Ian said. “Come on, I’m already exhausted, and we haven’t even started yet.” Ian dragged them out the door, each holding heavy wool blankets in their arms.

The sound of voices rose on the wind as they neared the stony beach. Fishing boats floated in a half-circle with battery-operated lanterns creating the dive borders. The early sun barely kissed the horizon.

“It all began with Torbj?rn Larsson and Farlan McClellan,” Merv recited the history of the Nordic Dive through a megaphone. Having heard the same story of the men settling a fight by racing in ice-cold water every year since his childhood, Danny let his mind and eyes wander over his shoulder, searching for honey hair. Unease still lingered from the night before. Why did he have to lose his phone?

“Divers, line up,” Merv announced, and all the men huddled near the edge of the water.

Annie, the on-call medic for the dive, was dressed in a cold-water suit. She kissed a speedo-clad Clark before climbing into a motorboat with a few young medic trainees.

“You all know the drill,” Merv said. “Up to Ted’s boat, touch, and back again.”

“Isn’t that out an extra hundred yards this year?” Ian called out.

George, one of shameless streakers, who was also forced to the front to hide his wrinkled ass, scoffed. “’Tis the same as it is every year, McClellan. But feel free to wimp out now.” He flexed his skinny arms.

Ian grinned.

“Time’s up, lads,” Merv said. “For those that aren’t already, it’s down to your trunks or skivvies.”

Again, Danny glanced over his shoulder. He thought of Claire trapped in her nightmare by a man he couldn’t put a face to. He thought of the details he’d withheld from her about what he saw outside his window afterward. Greyson arguing with his driver in the shadows, arm swiping over his face before handing him something and leaving.

“She’ll come.” Ian’s voice snapped him back. “’Course, at this rate, I’m hoping she misses it, so you’ll be distracted and I’ll out swim ya.”

“Wanna place a bet on that?” Danny peeled off his sweater, slapping his arms to warm his muscles. “Bottle of single malt.”

“That’s sacred ground you’re trod’n there, Danny Boy. Dammit, I’m already cold.” Ian removed his kilt and sweater, hopping up and down. “It’s a deal with the devil, to be sure, but a deal nonetheless—oh, hell no. Cover that ass, Finlay. You’re not going to win Emelie over with that blinding light.”

Danny snickered, and Fin grumbled but secured his swim trunks back around his waist.

“Tell me again why I agreed to do this?” Danny slipped off his sweatpants, crouched into a few squats, and smacked heat into his thighs.

“Because you’ve been undefeated for the past four years, and you have to maintain your Viking reputation.”

Danny smiled, dipped a hand into the water, and splashed it onto his skin, acclimating to the temperature. “I think it’s colder.”

“You say that every year.”

“Psst,” Fin said.

Danny’s eyes tracked over his shoulder and fell on a bundle entombed in a down-filled coat with an edible face peeking out, waddling next to Emelie. His face split apart.

Emelie waved to them and broke from Claire to join a few other friends. Fin’s arm froze mid-wave and floated down.

“Bit of advice.” Danny stepped next to him. “Stop expecting things from her. Too many people do that already. Just let her see that you’re there.”

“Fin.” Mattie and Dean beckoned to him. “We saved you a spot.”

“Remember what I told you,” Ian said from the other side of him, then mouthed, “Romance.”

Fin side-glanced him, then Danny. “Maybe next year,” he called.

“Afraid we’ll kick your ass?”

Fin flipped them off, and they laughed while Danny jogged to meet Claire.

“Sorry I’m late.” She panted and eyed up his swim trunks. “I see you’re not a purist.”

“That depends.” He thumbed inside and ran along the waistband.

Her eyes followed. “O-on what?”

“On whether or not you say please.”

A small peep squeaked out of her, and he barked a laugh. Snapping the band back into place, he kissed the point of her nose.

She puffed a white cloud through her scarf. “You’re mean.”

“Tell you what, M.C.C.” He dipped toward her ear and lifted the end of her fluffy, pink earmuff. “When the time comes, this?” He swept his hand up and down over himself. “Will only be for you to see.”

Her hand clutched her throat. “Did you say when and not if?”

A crooked smirk slipped up the side of his mouth. “You heard me.”

“You’re not afraid anymore?”

His breath warmed her ear again as he gently kissed it. “I’m not afraid anymore.”

It didn’t matter that her scarf covered the bottom half of her face, and her hat nearly covered the other half. Her smile seeped through it all. “Better not freeze out there then, Viking.”

“Ten-nine-eight ... ”

Danny grinned and ran with the rest of the men toward the water. The sun made its red orb appearance over the choppy surface as his feet neared the water’s edge. He turned one last time to wave, but it wasn’t Claire he saw. It was a man in an ivy cap and wool coat with an upturned collar standing twenty feet behind her. A stoney smile wormed its way up a jagged-scarred cheek.

The whistle blew and the sound of bodies splashing into the sea barely registered. Danny had never missed being the first in the water. And when he looked back over his shoulder, the man was gone.

“Danny, come on,” Ian’s watery voice yelled.

He turned and dove in. The icy liquid sent a bolt of shock to his heated core, threatening to shut down his brain. Adrenaline kicked in. His mind and body warred against the icy water and the thought of that chilling smile.

Who was he? And why the hell was he looking at him like that?

He swam faster, hoping to clear his head.

Ian reached the boat first. Damn, it was cold. At least the cold made Danny want to keep moving to stay warm—or at the very least sane. He started to close in behind Ian, but his mind wasn’t in it. Probably just exhaustion, but he couldn’t shake the look on that man’s face.

Cheers from the crowd faded in and out as his ears bobbed in and out of the water. For the first time since he started diving at age fourteen, the cold penetrated to the bone. A painful cramp seized his thighs, and his joints locked.

“Ian.” His voice gurgled as his mouth filled with salt water.

“Danny?”

His head dropped beneath the waves.

Annie was first in the water, but Ian was closer and wrapped his arm around and under his chin, lifting his face out of the water. He spit out air.

“Is this how you plan to win?” Ian panted, and Danny groaned as he was dragged toward Annie.

“I can finish.”

“Get in the boat, Danny.”

“No, I’m good. Cramping stopped. Promise. Thanks, Annie.” He shoved Ian off and picked up speed again.

“Cheater.”

Danny forced a laugh. His legs still ached. Clark made it back first with a caveman-like holler while he and Ian remained neck and neck. Danny could feel Ian’s eyes on him, and in an effort to show him he was fine, he ignored the burn of his thighs and pulled ahead, making them come in fourth and fifth place.

Drag-crawling out of water, they were met by volunteers who cheered and covered them in warm blankets.

“You okay?” Ian asked, shaking out his hair.

Danny rubbed the blanket over his head and stretched out his aching legs, looking over the crowd. “Not enough sleep.”

“How ... did you,” Fin panted, “old men make it back before me.” He wheezed and crawled out of the water.

“Old?” Ian threw a blanket at his head and turned to Danny. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yeah.” Danny sighed. “There was just some guy glaring at me right before the dive and I got distracted.”

“Lots of guys glare at you. Usually because their women are staring at you.”

Danny rolled his eyes, but then caught a group of mainlander women doing just that. He cleared his throat and shifted further under the blanket.

“Any idea who the guy was?”

Danny was about to answer, but stopped when he saw Ian rubbing his stomach. A sign that his sixth sense for trouble was kicking in. “Why, you feeling something?”

“Pretty sure this is because I saw your head go under.”

“I was only soaking in the moment.”

Ian sucker-punched his arm.

Claire waddle-rushed up to them and threw an extra blanket around Danny. “Did I see that right? Did you go under?”

“He was looking for attention.”

Danny shoved Ian away and opened his blankets wide. “Come here, my little burrito.” He surrounded Claire’s poof-covered body and shook his wet head all over her. She screeched.

“We have to get you dry.” She pulled him toward the hill. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I cramped a little, but I think it’s a lack of sleep.” He stopped her and patted her down. “Are you even inside this thing? What’s this.” He cupped her butt and squeezed.

She laughed and swiped off his hands. He reeled her back in and planted a wet kiss over her scarf. “That won’t do.”

“It’s going to have to, Mister Larsson. Dry first. Kiss later.”

“How about kiss now and later.” His freehand started lowering her coat zipper.

“Daniel,” she squeaked, and he grinned, sliding a wet hand under her sweater.

He tugged on one of her underlayers. “How’s a man supposed to get a feel in?”

Wriggling and laughing, she pulled his hand out and led him further up the hill. Her phone buzzed, and she glanced down at it. All her joy vanished. “He did it. Greyson really blocked my number.”

Danny sighed and pulled her closer. “I’m sorry. I know we never talked it out last night, but do you know what you’re going to do about him?”

“Probably what I should have done a year ago.” His brow furrowed, and she said, “Get some very good lawyers of my own and fight for him.”

“That’s my Claire.” He tugged down her scarf, eyes dropping to her lips. “That mouth.”

“Dry,” kiss, “first,” another kiss, “kiss,” a deeper one, “later.” She grinned when he grunted and restored her scarf.

“Fine.” He turned her around and moved her in front of him. “But first ... ” He swept the blanket around her front and shoved the corners of it into her hands. Again he slipped under her sweater and jerked yet another layer up. She laughed, shoving it down. He playfully slapped her hands away and dug underneath again. “You lead us. I have a Claire to find.”

She kept losing hold of the blankets, laughing harder when he continued to find more layers.

“Claire.” He groaned. “This is torture.”

“We’re almost there too. You’re running out of time.”

“Screw it.” Dropping both hands to her pants, he thumbed open the button.

“Daniel.”

His deep laugh rumbled over her muffed ear as he dipped inside and ripped up all her layers at once. “There you are.” His fingers glided over a warm, soft belly and pulled her to a stop. “Look up.”

A fluffy, white flake landed on her nose, and she gasped. “It’s snowing?”

He slowly turned her, and the blanket dropped and draped over his shoulders.

“You’ll get cold.” She reached to cover him, but he peeled down her scarf.

“It’s good luck to kiss on the first snow in Solsken.”

“You just made that up.”

“Doesn’t mean it’s not true.” He feathered his mouth across hers.

Claire’s smile faded, and she closed her eyes. Her body softening against his. His eyes never closed but soaked up details. The way her expression shifted through emotions with every touch of his lips.

This kiss. This gentle, savoring kiss was different from all the rest, and the words formed. Right on the tip of his tongue gliding against hers—they were there.

But could he say it?

Thick flakes clung to his lashes as his warm hands cupped her cool cheeks. He sank into her mouth again, slowly. So slowly her knees wobbled. He hummed, enjoying yet another reason to pull her in tighter, closer.

He was going to say it. Danny pulled back, dragging her lips with him, and her lids fluttered open.

Inch by slow inch, her eyes tracked up from the bobbing of his throat to the ice crystals forming on his trimmed beard. They wandered higher to his mouth and nose, before stopping at his eyes.

Her breath caught, and a flicker of emotion flitted across her expression. Did she know? Could she see the words in his eyes? His thumbs brushed wet snow from her cheeks.

“My sweet Claire,” he whispered.

God, the way her eyes drifted closed when he said that. Her lips parting. He wanted to live here. Right here in this moment and never leave.

He took her mouth again.

“Daniel?”

He hummed, but didn’t pull back.

“Did you mean it when you said you weren’t afraid anymore?”

He moved up and down on her lips.

“When did that change?”

“Last night.” He kept his mouth on hers. “When you murdered that bread after I asked if you wanted space from me.” She laughed and he smiled, swallowing the sound of it.

“But how?” she whispered.

He pulled back, just enough to look into her eyes. “I don’t know how. All I know is it settled something in me.”

“What did it settle?”

He took in every inch of her face. “It made me realize something I couldn’t see before.”

She rubbed up and down his arms like she could keep off the cold, but she didn’t know he was already blazing. “Tell me.”

“It showed me that I—”

“Oi, Danny, Claire,” Ian called from the gate, officially becoming the best friend with the worst timing. “Plenty of time for smooching. Get your asses in here and dry off.”

“What were you going to say?”

Danny slowly smiled. “I’ll tell you later.”

Her bottom lip jutted out, and he stole it one last time. He ended it quick because Ian still obnoxiously waved them in.

“Don’t go into the kitchen,” she told him when they stepped inside. “Just change first, and I’ll meet you up there.”

“Does this have anything to do with why you’ve been sneaking off with Em?”

She pinched her mouth closed and locked it with an imaginary key. “Get,” she ordered, and he grinned, hopping up the stairs two at a time.

With his dresser still occupying Claire’s room, he slipped inside and closed the door, humming to himself.

He peeled off his swim trunks and pulled out a pair of boxer briefs when his door opened. “Whoa, hey.” He laughed. “I’m not ready yet, woman.”

“My God, I forgot how sexy you are, Danny.”

He whipped around, shoving the boxers over himself and stumbled backward, stuttering, “J-Jessica?”