Chapter Sixteen

"Well, excuse me for caring." Truly tossed the box of Cocoa Puffs back into the pantry. Chocolate equaled comfort and if anything called for comfort, it was Mom glaring daggers at her from across the kitchen island.

They'd been going round and round for the better part of a half hour, Mom tearing into her as soon as she stepped through the front door of the lake house, arriving just after four. Dad's Toyota in the driveway had been hard to miss and Mom... to say she was displeased by Truly's plot to get them both in the same place would be an understatement.

"Caring and meddling are two entirely different things, Truly." Mom set her hands on her hips and scowled across the kitchen island. "Two guesses which this is and the first doesn't count."

"Oh, what a puzzle." She scoffed, grabbing the oat milk from the fridge. "It's only meddling because you don't like it."

"Big shock that your father and I aren't happy about being lied to by our daughter."

Dad, who'd been mostly silent, turned on his barstool, glasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. "Your mother and I aren't keen on being manipulated, Buttercup."

Oh, that was rich. "Did either of you stop and think that maybe I'm not keen on being kept in the dark? You tell me, out of the blue no less, that you're separating, and then you act like everything is hunky-fucking-dory each week at brunch. What else was I supposed to do considering you two refuse to talk to each other if it's not in goddamn Sondheim lyrics?"

"Language," Mom chastised weakly, one hand held limply against her forehead like she was staving off a headache. A headache that was assuredly Truly's fault.

"You know what? No." Truly crossed her arms. "I am twenty-seven years old, I pay my own rent, and I'll say fuck if the occasion calls for it."

"Your rah rah, I am an adult, hear me roar manifesto would carry a lot more weight had you not tried to pull a Lindsay Lohan on your mother and me," Dad said.

"If I pulled something over on you, it's only because you weren't paying attention," she argued. "I invited you both here, but I never lied; not once did I say I was only inviting either one of you. It's not my fault you didn't ask questions. That you didn't talk to one another and compare notes."

"Duplicitous." Dad's mouth was still set in a stern line, but his tone was all fond exasperation. "We raised a hellion, didn't we, Diane?"

"Our daughter tricked us into a lakeside retreat and you're treating this like it's some big joke. Stop clowning around, Stanley."

The poorly disguised mirth in his eyes flickered and faded. "Clowning around? Gee, Diane, just call me Emmett Kelly because I'm—"

"Would you both cut it out?" Truly shoved her bowl of cereal aside. All this bickering had made her lose what little appetite she'd woken up with. "I overstepped? Fine. My bad. But are you even listening to yourselves? Mom, the words lakeside retreat literally just came out of your mouth. It's Chelan! We all love Chelan. We used to come here all the time. Do you know how many people would kill to have a lake house to retreat to?"

"That is entirely beside the point, and you know it. The location is far from what your father and I are taking umbrage with. Neither of us appreciate being tricked."

Truly slumped atop the counter, forehead pillowed against her folded arms. "And I admitted that I overstepped. What else do you want me to say?"

"An apology would be nice, and we have yet to hear one of those."

Maybe because she wasn't in the habit of apologizing for things she wasn't sorry for.

Truly lifted her head and let her gaze drift between Mom and Dad and the ocean of space between them. "Your daughter is standing here begging to spend time together as a family. Most parents would be overjoyed by that prospect."

"You know we adore you, Pumpkin," Dad said. "It's your methods we're upset about."

Mom pursed her lips and looked away and for the first time all morning Truly wondered whether she actually had fucked up. If she'd taken this whole plan a bridge too far.

"Is it so bad that I just want you two to talk?" That she just wanted them to care enough to fix this. "I'm just asking that you try."

Truly bit down on the inside of her cheek so she wouldn't cry. She clutched the edge of the counter until her knuckles turned to white to keep from clasping her hands together and literally begging them to give this a shot.

Dad's face softened. "Sweetheart—"

"This isn't about you, Truly." Mom's voice rose, a sure sign that she'd reached the end of her rope. "We love you. Always, but this?" She gestured across the room to Dad. "This is not your business."

"Not my business?" Her laugh came out sharp and wet. "You kind of made it my business when you told me you were separating."

There was no way they could've thought she wouldn't care. They knew her better than that; they'd raised her to be inquisitive and curious and to never give up, never back down. But yeah, go ahead and sue her for caring about the two most important people in her life.

"Maybe—" Dad coughed into his fist and stared out the window over the sink, looking for all the world like he'd throw himself out it if he could. Dad never handled it well when she and Mom fought, few and far between as their fights were. "Maybe your mother and I made a mistake."

"What? Are you...?" She couldn't breathe let alone finish her sentence. It felt like someone had punched through her chest, squeezing her heart in one hand and reaching up with the other to seize her vocal cords in a viselike grip.

Dad rubbed his forehead. "Perhaps we shouldn't have told you about the trial separation."

The air left her lungs as if she'd been punched in the gut.

"Because keeping me in the dark would've been so much better." She bit down on the inside of her cheek so she wouldn't cry. "I don't know what went wrong between you and when it happened because apparently, it's not my business. But you two claim to love each other and people who love each other? They don't just give up. They don't run and they don't hide."

"Truly—"

She cut Dad off with a curt shake of her head. She didn't want to hear it. The excuses, the brush-offs, the handling her with kid gloves and treating her like she was incapable of handling the truth.

She dumped her cereal in the trash and made a beeline for the back door.

"Take your stupid time apart, but ignoring a problem won't make it go away. It'll just make it blow up in your faces later."

As soon as she hit the dock, Truly kicked off her flip-flops. She shoved her jean shorts, already unbuttoned, down her hips, not even pausing when a thread ripped. Clad in her bikini, she took a flying leap off the dock, plunging headfirst into the frigid water.

At some point, lulled by the softly lapping waves, her eyes slipped shut. She wasn't sleeping, just... drifting. Not really thinking about any one particular thing, because there wasn't any one particular thing that was safe to think about. The soft, sherbet-colored sun shined mutedly through her eyelids, and she focused on that, on the safe-simplicity of the sun rising and setting each day, inevitable.

"You might want to be careful swimming in that water. I heard some freak's running around tossing cigarettes in the lake."

Truly reared forward too fast, balance off-kilter, her head slipping beneath the water. She broke the surface with a gasp and glared. Colin stood on the dock holding a bright bouquet of flowers.

She skimmed her hand against the surface, sending a spray of water at him. "You couldn't say hello like a normal person?"

She could only imagine how she looked. Like a drowned rat, sputtering and spitting water.

Colin set the bouquet down on the dock and took a seat. He was wearing another pair of obscenely short shorts, this time pastel blue and checkered, thin fabric creeping higher up his thighs when he sat. His feet were bare, and he let them sink beneath the lake's surface.

Damn him for looking so good all the time. It would be infinitely easier to be upset with him if she didn't want to kiss his stupid mouth.

"Thought about it. Decided against it." He shrugged. "Nice bikini, by the way."

"I could've drowned, and you'd have been what? Busy staring at my tits?"

His gaze dipped, eyes unrepentantly focused on her chest. "To be fair, they are nice tits."

Truly sent another spray of water at him. "How'd you know where to find me?"

"‘Dark green shutters, mailbox shaped like a shark,'" he recited. "It's not far from my folks' place." He gestured behind him to the private riverwalk all the houses on this stretch of the lake could access. "It's a nice day. I walked."

She treaded water. "And the flowers?"

Colin picked the bouquet up and if she wasn't mistaken, blushed. "The flowers are for you."

She swam a little closer and wiped the lake water from her eyes. An ivory-colored bow held together the bouquet of blush-pink camellias, lavender roses, and delicate lily of the valley, all soft, shaded petals set against a backdrop of lush green leaves.

I adore you, you enchant me, and I wish you a return to happiness, the arrangement said. Lovely and unassuming, giving and demanding nothing in return.

She didn't know if Colin meant it, if he even knew flowers could mean anything at all. Given his frequent research spirals, his late nights spent on Wikipedia, she wouldn't put it past him. Regardless, it warmed her all the way to her toes, frigid lake water forgotten.

"What's the occasion?" she asked.

"I'm sorry," he said without pretense or preamble.

"What for?" She kicked her legs harder, keeping her head above the water. "You didn't say anything you didn't mean."

He set the flowers aside. "I only said what I said the other night because I didn't want to see you get hurt. I still don't."

Her bottom lip wobbled. Too late for that. "Not that I don't appreciate the concern, but it's completely unnecessary. You don't need to worry about me."

"That doesn't mean I'm not going to."

"Why?"

"You're killing me." He turned his face up to the sky and shut his eyes, baring his throat and those two perfect moles on either side of his clavicle. "You worry about your parents, don't you?"

She frowned. What a bizarre question. "Of course I do. I care about them."

His brows crept up his forehead and—

"Oh."

"Yeah, Truly. Oh." Colin laughed. "I care about you. Is that seriously a surprise? Because if it is, I've been doing a seriously shitty job of courting you."

"Courting—" Her head slipped under the water. She broke the surface of the lake and coughed. "Who says that?"

The nineteenth century called and asked for their verbiage back.

He snorted. "Says the girl who asked me to go steady. Glass houses, baby."

"Yeah, well, maybe I jumped the gun."

Colin looked like she'd punched him in the gut. "We had a fight. Fuck, not even. It was—it was a disagreement, Truly. I know I said some things—"

"It was far from our first disagreement." Maybe she should've taken their first fight as a sign, a portent of what was to come. "Look, Colin, I like you. I like you a lot." So much. Too much, probably. More than she had any business liking anyone when she was as messed up as she was. "But I told you I wasn't in the right headspace for a relationship. All things be told, my parents are likely on the brink of a divorce and my faith in love is..." Questionable at best. "My parents are the blueprint for me, okay? And if they can't make it work... if I can't believe in love, I..." What could she believe in? "I don't know what the point is, okay? You don't want to date me."

"And what if I do?" he demanded, obstinate as ever. "What then?"

"Are you not hearing me? I am—I am far, far from girlfriend material," she said—no, warned. "I'm a mess right now. I'm more trouble than I'm worth, okay?"

Colin was sweet. Against all odds, despite his WASPy mother and taciturn, judgmental father, his asshole of a brother, and his—his cow cod of an ex, he still tried.

He was putting in all of this effort and for what? A gun-shy girl who craved a forever love, but flinched in the face of affection?

"That should be for me to decide, shouldn't it? Not you. Me. Whether or not I want to be with you is my choice," he said. "You said it yourself; we've all got flaws. But the day I don't want you is the day the earth starts rotating backward, okay?"

"That's a hell of a bold statement from a guy who's known me two months."

"Remember this moment in twenty years. Can't wait to tell you I told you so."

Well, shit.

Truly ducked under the water, needing a second to gather herself before she did something ridiculous like burst into tears.

She surfaced to the sight of Colin scrubbing a hand against his jaw, stubble dark and thick. The late-afternoon sun bathed his face in sherbet shades of pink and orange, so handsome it made her breath catch.

"Are you gonna sit there and look pretty? Or are you gonna join me?" she asked, the muscles in her thighs starting to fatigue, her lungs heaving only partially from exertion.

Colin stood and stripped.

Clad in just his shorts, he executed a perfect swan dive into the water, surfacing a foot away, paddling the distance with ease. Droplets of lake water clung to his lashes and flattened his hair against his head. His tongue swept against his bottom lip, and she wished it was her that he was licking off his lips instead of lake water.

"I missed you," he whispered, hands finding her waist, dragging her against him. She locked her legs around his waist and—he was already half-hard against her.

Goose bumps broke out across her skin.

Colin dragged his lips across her cheek, stubble rough against her as he pressed openmouthed kisses along her jaw. He found the pulse pounding away in her throat and nipped, soothing the sting with a drag of his tongue. "Missed how you taste, missed how you sound, missed how good you feel in my arms."

She arched her neck, giving him more room to work with as he sucked stinging kisses along her throat. "It hasn't even been twenty-four hours. Eighteen, maybe."

He was making it hard for her to think.

"Eighteen too long." He stole her lips in another kiss, hips jerking, cock pressing against her exactly where she wanted, only two layers of soaked fabric separating them.

Water lapped at their chests, making it hard to get the friction she desperately craved as she rocked against him.

Colin tore his lips from hers. "Shit. Hold on. I've got you. Just lemme—" He shifted her in his arms, wedging a hand between their bodies. He tugged at the crotch of her swimsuit, dragging it aside, fingers sliding over her clit.

She dropped her head against his shoulder, teeth finding the thick tendon straining in his neck and biting hard.

She sucked lazily at the junction of skin where his throat met his shoulder, brain fuzzy, comforted by the feeling of his arms around her, keeping her afloat. Her back hit something sturdy and she lifted her head, opening her eyes.

He'd paddled them to the dock and pinned her up against the ladder.

Colin rested his forehead against hers. "Want me to make you feel good?"

"Uh-huh." She nodded and, trusting him to keep her from drowning, dragged the top of her swimsuit down.

Colin stared at her chest, looking like he'd seen God in the flesh. "Fuck." He managed to make that word sound like praise and condemnation all in one. "Knew you'd have perfect tits. Christ." Two of his thick fingers slipped inside her, filling her up, water washing away most of her natural slick, friction flirting with the line of too much. His thumb found her clit and his fingers slid deeper, pressing against that place that made her see stars, that had made her gush all over his face and left his chin dripping. "Touch yourself, baby? Please? Fuck. Pretty please?"

Who was she to deny such a polite request? She reached down and plucked at her nipples the way she liked, pinching hard enough that her back arched, the pleasure sharp and bittersweet, just the right side of painful.

"You like that, don't you?" He crooked his fingers forward against that sensitive bundle of nerves, making her whimper. "You're strangling my fingers."

She panted up at the darkening sky, water lapping at her chest, tension coiling in her belly. "Imagine what I'm gonna feel like around your cock."

Colin jerked against her and swore. "Fuck. I want that so bad. You have no idea."

If she didn't get her hands on him, she was pretty sure she'd die. "Can I touch you? Say yes."

He bobbed his head. "Yeah. Yes. Anything you want." His hips jerked against her, clothed cock sliding against the crease of her thigh.

It was enough to make her dizzy, being granted permission to reach between them and slide her fingers beneath his waistband, to slip her hand inside his shorts and fist his cock, to feel the slide of silky soft skin over his rigid length.

His thumb sped against her clit and her own rhythm faltered.

"Go on," he said. "Whatever you need." His fingers curled harder, the pressure inside her coiling tighter. "I'm yours, Truly."

One of her legs spasmed, her heel kicking the back of his thigh as she fractured, feeling like her soul was being ripped from her body. Her hand gripped his neck, nails biting into the skin of his shoulder, mole-splattered perfection. If it weren't for his hand cradling the back of her head, she might've knocked herself unconscious against the pile at her back, her neck arching and her whole body jerking.

"That's it," Colin murmured, voice reaching her ears over—oh, she was the one making those noises, soft mewls and pitiful whines as she squirmed against him, the pleasure so good, too good, it was like she couldn't handle it. Like her body didn't know how to process this much pleasure. "Shhh. That's it. I've got you."

Tears dripped freely down her face, mingling with the lake water trickling from her bangs. Colin kissed her cheek, tongue darting out, tasting her tears. Her cunt clenched around his fingers and he kept going, curling his fingers inside her with even more determination.

"I can't," she muttered, head thrashing.

Colin scoffed, almost mean, the sound softened by the gentle press of his lips against her temple. "That's a lie. You and I both know you can."

She gripped his cock and tugged, swiped her thumb over the head where, if it weren't for the lake water, she knew without a fraction of a doubt he'd be weeping for her. Colin hissed and shifted, pinning her against the ladder, knees keeping her thighs spread so his right hand could reach up and grip the dock.

Truly buried her face against him. "Want you to come. Want to make you come."

Colin choked on his next breath, cock jerking in her fist as he managed to thumb her oversensitive clit with just the right pressure to send her careening over the edge for the second time.

Distantly, over the rush of blood inside her head and the high-pitched whines escaping her throat, she heard him swear. His fingers spasmed inside her, his thighs shaking and neck straining, a silent shout trapped in his throat.

"Ah, shit," he slurred, after only a handful of heartbeats. "I think you killed me. I think I'm dead. Is this heaven?"

She giggled and slapped his arm weakly, her limbs limp as noodles. "You're still alive, you cornball."

"I don't know." He grinned at her, lids low and eyes hazy. Pride swelled inside her because she'd done that. "Sure you aren't an angel?"

She scoffed and ran her fingers through the water between them, wisps of his come clinging to her fingers. "Considering what we just did? I think not."

Colin slipped his fingers from her and popped them right in his mouth, sucking them clean, lapping at the space between them like he didn't want to miss a drop. "Definitely considering what we just did."

A rush of aroused embarrassment washed over her and she tucked her head under his chin. "Hush."

"Don't get shy on me now, St. James," he teased. "Pretty sure we've got a few kinks we need to share with each other before you clam up."

"You got a pen?" she joked. "Might need to write these down."

Colin snorted. His cock was softening inside her fist, and she didn't want to let go. "Like I'm not going to remember?"

"I'm not underestimating your memory, but I think you might be underestimating my imagination."

He laughed, strangled. "Okay, fair."

She shut her eyes and sucked in a deep breath, drawing the light lemony-sage scent of Colin's shampoo into her lungs. "This is nice."

Almost nice enough to make her forget the reason she'd retreated to the lake in the first place. Almost.

"You were right, you know," she said. "This plan was a mistake."

He shifted, lips pressing against the crown of her head. "Do you want to talk about it?"

What she wanted was to close her eyes and go to sleep and pray that when she woke up this whole thing would be a nightmare.

"They're pissed off at me for tricking them into coming here under false pretenses, which I probably should've seen coming." She'd known it was a possibility, but she hadn't cared enough to let it stop her. "Mom told me to mind my own business and Dad said he regrets telling me about the separation in the first place and... I didn't think it was possible, but I'm worried I might've made everything worse."

Colin stroked his hands up and down her waist. Or, more accurately, hand. The other was still holding on to the dock, which couldn't have been comfortable, but he had yet to complain.

"I don't even have a clue what I'm going to be walking back into," she said.

In the time since Truly had stormed off, Mom and Dad had probably had plenty of time to come up with a litany of new and inventive ways to berate her for meddling. That was assuming they hadn't retreated to their separate bedrooms to stew in their self-inflicted misery.

"Feel free to tell me if I'm overstepping," Colin began, "but do you want backup?"

"Backup?"

"Yeah, you know, a buffer?" He adjusted his grip on the dock, choking up on the ladder. "Might take the heat off you if they have something else to focus on."

"You would—you'd really do that? For me?"

Colin rolled his eyes. "Do you even need to ask?"

Her heart swelled. "I—my parents are kind of... eccentric on a good day. And I can't promise they'll be—"

"Truly."He smiled at her, exasperated and oh so fond that she was weak to do anything but smile back.

"Okay." She pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Let's go introduce you to my parents."