I remembered what he said that first night we met, about that homesickness for another life, that feeling of being in the wrong timeline of your life, the wrong version of yourself. And even though he said he probably would’ve quit, I wondered if he thought of the accident as the thing that derailed his plans, that took the choice from him.

“What happened?” I asked.

“It was stupid, one of the stupidest decisions I’ve ever made. I was at a party and this guy I was friends with was pretty wasted and wanted to drive home. I offered to drive him, but we ended up in a crash anyway. Another car clipped us and we slammed into a telephone pole. We were lucky enough to walk away, but his car was totaled.”

“Wow, what are the odds?” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“Shit happens. I’ve long given up on the idea that there’s such a thing as fairness.” He was so different from Elise, who railed against the world, who couldn’t tolerate any injustice, no matter how small.

“Did you quit right after?” I asked.

“Yes and no. Even after months of PT, it just wasn’t the same. Maybe it was the surgery, the metal pins, the scar tissue, but I have a lot less range of motion on my left side.” He demonstrated by stretching each arm back. “And you need a lot of upper-body flexibility to be a fast swimmer.”

“Do you think you’ll ever go back?” It was too sad, the idea that one night took so much from him.

“Maybe? My grandpa really wanted me to, thought I could maybe get a scholarship for college even if I’d never make the national team, and I promised him I would, but I don’t know.”

Lightning flashed in the distance, burning up part of the sky, and Lola perked up at the sound of faraway thunder just as it began to rain.

“Come on,” Jack said, grabbing my hand and making a run for it. We laughed as the sudden deluge soaked us to the bone, Lola barking as we ducked under a canopy. We looked up at the same time and shared a breathy laugh. Then he leaned in, resting his forehead on mine, tangling our fingers together.

“Hi,” he said softly.

“Hi.”

When he kissed me, I held on tight, not wanting to let go.

SATURDAY // APRIL 8

36.

“Where were you?” Elise demanded the next morning when I finally answered one of her calls. “I drove by your house but you weren’t home.”

“Sorry, I was out with Jack and my phone died.” The lie was innocent enough. I didn’t owe her an explanation, but it was strange, intentionally lying to her for the first time. Then again, she was the one who lied first. “We got caught out in the rain and by the time I got home, all I could manage was a quick shower before I fell asleep.”

“You missed everything,” she said, clearly annoyed. “How soon can you get dressed? I’m coming to pick you up.” Before I could even protest, she added, “Never mind, just get ready, I’ll be there in fifteen,” and promptly hung up. This was classic Elise. She made the decisions, dictated the terms, and I’d been more than happy to let her take the lead. It’d been such a relief to have someone to follow, but now it was beginning to grate on me.