Page 106 of Just One More Thing

Wayne whispers something that looks suspiciously like prayer.

Our boat hits the shore first.

Jake reaches for me as I climb over the bow. One hand closes around mine while his other settles automatically at my waist to steady me.

His hand stays there.

Granny’s pencil freezes mid-notation. Mrs. Kravitz raises her scoring paddle again. The crowd makes that pleased little murmur people make when they feel publicly vindicated.

“That was significantly less romantic than I imagined,” I tell him.

He tilts his head. “Which part?”

“The part where I got dragged across open water while clinging to a boat for survival.”

“You chose boat.”

“I had incomplete information.”

His smile appears slowly. “Let me make it up to you.”

Then he dips me. Right there on the shoreline with half the town watching.

And kisses me.

I kiss him back instantly. No hesitation. No overthinking. No checking for exits. Just my hands in his hair and his mouth on mine and the entire world briefly narrowing to the space between us.

I have no idea how long it lasts.

Only that it ends too soon.

“THAT’S FIFTY MORE DOLLARS!” Miss Hattie screams somewhere behind us.

Jake laughs against my mouth before helping me upright again.

My knees are embarrassingly unreliable.

We’re not partners in the water for the Doggy Paddle race. It’s an individual heat with combined times, which means I spend a full minute standing on the dock, watching Jake swim before it’s my turn.

He cuts through the bay, shoulders rolling beneath the surface, reading the current instead of fighting it. This place belongs to him. The water. The dock. The town that shows up for him without needing a reason. The life he built when everything else fell apart.

He reaches the buoy and turns.

I dive.

Cold water closes over my head, and suddenly all the noise disappears. Just bubbles and movement and the taste of salt.

I swim hard. Toward something instead of standing at the edge of it waiting to see if I ruin it first.

By the time I climb back onto the dock, Jake’s already there with a towel open and one hand extended toward me.

Waiting.

I take it. He wraps the towel around my shoulders carefully, hands lingering at the edges like he doesn’t quite want to let go. I don’t step back.

“Good swim,” he says quietly.

“You were watching.”