Hold My Breath (30 page)

I am terrified.

I’m not afraid to love him. That part…it’s easy. But I’m terrified that I won’t be strong enough, and that I will let him down. I just don’t think the man about to fight through the waters trying to drown him can handle one more disappointment.

My father stands, his hand resting on my shoulder, but his eyes still on his swimmer—the one he was always meant to push the hardest. My heart is overjoyed to see him stand behind Will again. I cover my dad’s hand with my own, and we make a silent deal to pick up the rest of the conversation about Evan later. For now, we give everything we’ve got to the other Hollister brother—the one nobody saw coming.

“Time to explode, Will. You have to explode out of this—that’s your edge,” my father yells. His hands form fists at his sides while his swimmer steps up to the blocks.

“Eighteen!” my father begins to shout, and I stand up next to him and begin to yell along with him.

This is the number we chase—the one Will chases. The US record in the fifty is barely a breath above eighteen seconds, and if you can even dance with the decimals that come after that number, you buy yourself respect.

My father has been daily drilling this number into Will’s head. He’s inscribed it on his cap, and we all repeat it in our minds here now. I glance back to where my mom is standing with her arm linked through Duncan’s, and Tanya stands behind Dylan’s chair with her hands clasped together and her neck straining with her held breath. So many people want this for him, but Will has to want it for himself.

Things begin to happen in slow motion as the bodies lined up along the pool all still, minus the occasional finger twitch in anticipation of the starting sound. The beeps begin, and my eyes sweep closed with the first two as I breathe in hard and fast, filling my chest as I know Will is. When my eyes open, they’re all in the air. Will’s start was mediocre. My father swears, leaping down from our team section to the deck below, cupping his mouth, following along the distance of the pool while he shouts. His words are meaningless to any ears but the ones he’s speaking to—claw, smooth, dig, push…sixty…sixty-five…seventy. My father is counting the strokes. He knows exactly how many it should take. Meanwhile, his eyes are scanning in those last few seconds for places where they can fit one more, take one away, find the edge.

Nineteen.

The clock stops on Will’s lane just as his hand touches the wall. He swam the fifty in nineteen seconds flat. He came in second in his heat, and he’ll swim again today, but that number—
nineteen
—is going to become one more anchor that he needs to shed.

“Goddamnit!” My father’s face is red, his eyes bunched as he covers his mouth with his hand and relives the last twenty seconds over again in his head, searching for what went wrong.

“It was the start,” I say, and my dad nods.

His eyes meet mine, holding my stare until his palm falls away from his face. It wasn’t a loss, but to us, it feels like one. To Will—it
is
one. I look over to the pool’s edge where he’s climbed out, but remains kneeling, his eyes set on the lane he just left. His elbows are on his knees, and his chin is balanced on his fists, his jaw set tight and his eyes like sights for a sniper.

Those demons of his—they slow him down.

* * *

S
econd twice
.

There’s a wall I can’t seem to get over. I didn’t even lose to the same guy each time, which means that on any given day, I’m slower than any other man I face in the pool.

I don’t feel much like celebrating, but Susan insisted on having everyone to their house. I took Duncan, Tanya, and Dylan home, yet nothing about that small house they live in felt like one. It made me sick to leave them there, though I know that they’ll be moving soon—to another place…that won’t feel like home.

I’ve been sitting on the porch stoop outside the Woodsens’ house for ten minutes, and I just can’t seem to get myself to go inside to join the laughter. I feel the door shift open behind me, and I turn enough to see Susan’s profile slip through the screen door.

“There are better hiding places than this, you know,” she jokes.

A breath of a laugh escapes my nose, and I glance up as she sits down next to me.

“I was planning to come in soon,” I say, not sure if I really was.

It’s been years since I’ve sat alone with Maddy’s mom. She was always the one to comfort me when I lost meets when I was a teenager, so I guess it’s fitting that she’s the one sitting here now. She lifts my elbow and slides her arm through mine, matronly, patting the top of my forearm with her other hand.

“We’ve come a long way from a popsicle making this all better, haven’t we,” she says.

I chuckle and nod, then turn to her with my nose scrunched.

“I hate to break it to you, but the popsicles never really worked either,” I admit.

“That’s because you take it all too seriously,” she says.

I laugh at first, but as I study her face, I realize that her smile is soft, and she isn’t joking.

“It’s the only thing I can control,” I shrug. “Swimming? That’s all me—and if I win, that’s on me. If I lose, it starts and ends with me.”

I feel her shake where our arms touch, and I glance to her face to see her laughing quietly.

“Oh, Will…” she says. “Honey, you can’t control a damn thing. But I promise you this…”

She tugs on my arm, encouraging me to stand with her. I pull my tired legs in and obey, letting her hold me by the shoulders, our toes facing so she can look me in the eyes.

“The sooner you realize that this life is just a ride, and that there are good parts there to enjoy, to balance out the crap that makes you sick, well…you might just find yourself creeping closer to that eighteen number you all seem so obsessed with,” she winks, her lip ticking up higher on one side.

“Your daughter is a lot like you, you know?” I say, following her lead as we head inside.

She glances over her shoulder, speaking from one side of her mouth.

“Why do you think she’s so fast?” she says.

I chuckle as we enter the main room, and Maddy’s eyes find mine through the dozen other people here. I slip my hand in hers and revel in the squeeze she gives me back. I taste the sweetness of the cider and hold it in my mouth long enough to feel the tickle of the bubbles on my tongue. I make sure to notice the colors of other people’s eyes when we shake hands, to listen to the timber of their voices when they tell me I had a great race. I let the sound of Curtis’s laugh settle in my own chest, and I try to replicate it in my own way.

I live in the moments. I force myself to every second for the entire evening. I want to find the joy, but somehow, when each precious thing passes, I sink right back to the bottom where nothing but failures and duties live.

Maddy’s touch grows tender in my hand, and she frees from my grip, sliding her fingers up my arm to the tight muscles of my neck. Her thumb and fingers press lightly, and I succumb to her efforts, closing my eyes and breathing through my nose. I nearly relax when the clanking sound of a spoon on a glass jolts me to attention. I glance around the room to find Curtis standing on one of their dining-room chairs, a little drunk.

“I wanted to make an announcement,” he says, his smile crooked and his body wobbly. Susan rolls her eyes and steps up next to him, holding her hand on his lower back. “Thank you, sweetheart,” he grins.

She raises her brow and shakes her head.

All eyes move to Curtis, and his jolliness shifts as his hand covers his mouth and his chin sinks to his chest.

“I want to thank you all for training here,” he begins, pausing, his eyes blinking at the floor. I look to Maddy and she glances at me, her head falling to the side, and my heart sinks. I’m not sure what news Curtis is about to deliver, but I know enough from the things I’ve survived to brace myself.

“This Swim Club…it has been my life…
our
lives. Maddy, Susan, me…
Will,
” he looks up, nodding toward me. “I think people are born competitors. I am one. I married one. Our daughter, Maddy—she’s a lion. There is no one fiercer than her when it comes to those waters outside.”

“Where is he going with this?” I whisper to Maddy.

Her hand squeezes mine harder, and when I look at her, her eyes set on her father, the tears pooling in them, I feel that sense of loss wrap it’s claws around my insides again.

“I wanted you all to know the honor you hold,” Curtis says. “You will be the final group of swimmers to train here…”

Gasps fill the air, and Maddy’s strength falters next to me. I reach around her and hold her against me, my stomach sick.

“Don’t…no…” Curtis shakes his head. “Don’t be sad,” he says, raising his head, a genuine smile on his face as his eyes scan around the room, finally settling on mine. His mouth curves more when our gazes meet. “Don’t you dare be sad,” he says, as if these words are meant for me. “I have had so much joy running this place, working with you all. I have loved helping you compete. And I intend to see it through to the very end, through trials and at the Olympics. My dream lives on with each of you…it’s just the mortgages that need to stop.”

A few people laugh lightly, and Curtis smiles as he looks down at Susan, reaching to hold her hand.

“Let’s raise our glasses to toast,” he says, lifting his champagne, the real stuff for him. “To one more race…to the Shore Club and memories. And to that god-forsaken, bloody-hard-to-get, goddamned eighteen!”

“Here, here,” several people shout, raising their glasses and drinking their liquid down in gulps. I hold my eyes on Curtis’s, each of us looking at one another through the celebration. I need to find the joy, and I need to get that number for him. I need to win if I want to swim for him past the trials.

I need to stop the bleeding.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say to my side before tilting my glass back, draining it and setting it down on the edge of the dining-room table.

I look to Maddy, and she does the same, nodding to me and meeting my stare.

She doesn’t ask where we’re going as I drive back toward the Swim Club, passing it, and continuing on to the only place left that I think might ease the growing hole in my heart.

The sun glints off the rustling leaves as I wind through the country road to Peterson Lake, and it still hasn’t quite set when I shift the car into park and exit, walking around to Maddy’s side in time to take her hand.

She’s wearing a white sundress and sandals, and I’m wearing my dress paints and the button-down shirt I’ve probably worn out by now. As we near the end of the trail, Maddy halts me and pulls her shoes from her feet, her smile hitting my eyes like honey on the tongue. She walks backward, her lip quirked on one side, her fingertips linked with mine as she lures me down to the water, a slight breeze making zigzags along the shallow surface. I kick my shoes off near the edge, and we both stop where the ground becomes wet. I look to the outcropping where our tree still stands.

“They still planning on tearing that down?” I nod toward the rope swing, and Maddy turns to follow my gaze.

She shrugs lightly.

“My mom hasn’t said, but I know they’re looking to put some houses up here,” she says.

I breathe out a short laugh, shaking my head as Maddy turns.

“It all goes away, doesn’t it?” I say.

Her fingertips dance along the tips of mine, and as I look out over the water, I feel her looking at me.

“Not everything,” she says, bending down and picking up a small, flat stone. She opens my palm and sets it inside, wrapping my fingers around it, curling it between us.

My lips tug up at her sweetness. I open my palm and shake the rock down to my fingertips, holding it up and squinting at it with one eye.

“For old time’s sake?” I say.

She holds my gaze, her mouth a smirk.

“You’re on, Hollister,” she says, looking down and holding her hair out of her vision as she scans the water, flipping over rocks with her toes. She finds her perfect stone, then lifts it up for me to inspect.

“Seems heavy to me,” I grimace, baiting her.

Her eyes squint as she rubs her thumb along the rock’s edge, holding it between us.

“That’s you being a chicken,” she says.

“Chickens first, then?” I say.

“Be my guest,” she says, taking a step back, giving me room to throw.

I stretch my arm across my body, still feeling the tightness from racing today, then I glance around the water for the perfect direction. Rocks jut up in some places, so I want the longest runway possible. Cocking my arm back, I look at her one last time.

“What’s the wager?” I ask. “Strip club again?”

She purses her lips and lets her head fall slightly to one side, her eyes narrowing on me.

“Liked it that much, did you?” she teases.

I shrug, laughing hard enough that my chest rumbles. I feel lighter, and I know that’s because of Maddy.

“How about this,” she begins, one eye closing more than the other, her hip shifting her weight to one leg. “You win, I’ll do a swing with you…in my white dress,” she says, one brow quirking up.

My lips pull up in a tight smile, smirking at the visual in my head.

“But I win,” she interrupts my fantasy. She steps closer, looking down at the rock in her hand, shaking it in her palm a few times before glancing back up to me, now inches away from my body. “Then you have to hit eighteen. Saturday. You race like your life depends on it, and you hit that number.”

My breathing becomes ragged and my heart starts to race. What she’s asking for feels impossible, but if I promise her I’ll do it, I’ll find a way. I love her for asking—I love her for challenging.

I wink at her and hold up my opposite hand, waving her to take a few steps back.

“Deal,” I say, cocking my arm and letting my stone fly across the water, skipping five times before finally diving into the depths for good.

My heart is still beating wildly, both because of her challenge that I do the impossible, and because I’ve made it hard for her to win. She’s only skipped a rock more than five times once, and for the first time ever, I want her to win. I think I need that pressure—from her—to pull this off.

Maddy’s eyes stare straight ahead, and her mouth remains unchanged, the hint of a smile still painted on her lips as if she knows a secret that makes her just a little better than the rest of us. She brings her stone to her lips, kissing the flat, harsh edge, then brings her arm back, slinging the rock side-armed along the water.

I move my lips with the numbers as I count silently, and my heart slows down when I pass five. The rhythm is back to normal when I end at seven, and in a blink, Maddy is standing in front of me again.

“Those years when you were gone?” she says, the Elvis lip twitching—taunting me to kiss it. “Someone practiced skipping rocks,” she says, a slight waggle to her head.

I bite my bottom lip and squint my eyes at her, feeling nothing but the moment for real this time. All of those other times—everything I try—I’m not able to keep the demons at bay, but when I’m with Maddy there is nothing else.

“I hope you practiced jumping from rope swings, too,” I say, giving her exactly a half a second to catch on and stiffen her muscles in panic before I lift her over my shoulder and run up the hill. Her feet kick and her hands pound at my back, but her laughter fills the in-between—it fills up all of the blank space.

“You lost fair and square, Will Hollister,” she shouts between howls, trying to jerk loose of my hold. “This is cheating!”

“If I’m going to swim fifty meters in eighteen seconds, I’m going to need some motivation, Maddy. Time to see how that gorgeous fucking dress looks when it’s wet and clinging to your skin!” I shout, wrapping one arm around her waist and gripping the rope in my opposite hand as I kick off from the cliff’s edge.

Maddy shouts my name, and the sound of her voice echoes off the canyon wall, around the lake, through the trees, and right into my heart. I tug her close and her legs wrap around mine before I let go and send us flying out above the water. She lets go just as our toes begin to kick at the surface, and she rises up through the water quickly, splashing her arms wildly at me, making wave after wave, until she’s close enough that I pull her to me again.

I never get to see how the dress looks wet against her skin. I imagine it, but I don’t have time to look because my need to kiss her is too great. My mouth craves her, and when our lips crash together, it’s like breathing for the first time—it’s weightless.