“Quit worrying. The wildlife here is friendly.” He tugged her toward him. She could feel his thigh brush against hers. Solid. Strong. “I’m glad you’re here, Izz.” The look in his eyes made her heart thump a little harder.

“You mean here in this water?” She knew he didn’t mean that, but she needed to hear him say it. It embarrassed her that she’d become so needy.

“I mean here in my home. With me.” He lifted his hand to her face, rubbing away droplets of water with his thumb. It made her shiver, but not because she was cold. She clutched his arms, feeling the swell of his biceps under her fingers. His skin was cold from the water, but all she felt was heat. Searing heat.

For the first time in months she was thinking of nothing but him. Aiden. All the rest of it faded. The anxiety and the anger. The misery and the confusion. All that was left was excitement. That delicious feeling in the pit of her stomach and low in her pelvis. She didn’t care whether this was love or not, because she wasn’t even sure what love was anyway. All she knew was that being this close to him was electrifying. Had it felt this way last time? No, she didn’t think so. Maybe her dad and Molly weren’t the only ones changing.

She pressed her lips to his damp skin. “I’m glad I’m here, too.”

12

Flora

What was she supposed to wear?

She was a child again, confused and alone, desperate to make a good impression.

It wasn’t that Clare hadn’t been polite—she had been perfectly civil—but civil wasn’t warm, was it? Civil wasn’t enthusiastic. It was a mark of good manners. There was little worse than being tolerated, and she knew that right now she was being tolerated for Jack’s sake.

All the power she’d felt when she’d confronted Celia had drained away. This was different. This mattered.

She heard Jack’s laughter through the open window as he chatted easily with his friends and she stepped closer, staying out of sight as she watched him. He was entirely comfortable with these people, and it hadn’t occurred to him that she might not be.

He was standing, beer in his hand, laughing and talking to a man who had his back to her. Todd, presumably. Todd, who had no doubt adored Becca.

And there, shimmering in the sunlight at the end of a long sweep of grass, was the lake.

Flora felt the stirrings of panic lodge in her throat.

Should she say something? Should she tell them? No. It would mean talking about something she didn’t want to talk about.

There were plenty of other activities on offer here. There was no need for her to go on, or even near, the lake.