13
Julie shoved the key to the high school into the lock, still surprised the superintendent had given the five of them full access to the facilities. He had insisted that they were free to use the pool or gym whenever they wanted. At the time, she hadn’t given it much thought except acknowledging how welcoming the community was. Now, when her nervous energy swirled and danced through her veins like the northern lights, she’d be sending the superintendent a big thank you. If she was going to sleep tonight, she had to burn her body to exhaustion, and swimming laps in the pool was the perfect way to do that.
Yanking the door open, she zipped the key back into her purse pocket, made sure the lock latched, then headed down the hall to the pool. Of course, an exhausted body wouldn’t matter one iota if her mind refused to shut down. She still couldn’t believe she’d come to Gunnar’s defense like she had. She didn’t do confrontation, especially not with a camera recording every word. Yet, the more that know-it-all reporter had attacked Gunnar, the more Julie snarled.
How was it she and Gunnar had been apart for fifteen years, not counting their one encounter seven years ago, yet she could still read him like she’d always been able to? He could hide his emotions well, but the tightness in his shoulders before they had made their way to the conference room and the slight tick of his cheek and dart of his eyes to the exits as they’d sat at the table screamed his nervousness. She obviously had been paying too much attention to him. Then, when the reporter had started in with her questions pointed at Gunnar and he hadn’t corrected the lady, all thoughts of idly sitting by and letting Mason do all the talking flew out the window.
Julie had felt Gunnar’s gaze on her as her words had tumbled out faster than her brain could think. His shock and gratitude when she’d dared to glance at him settled the protectiveness that had roared through her into a contented purr in her core. She groaned as the warm feeling returned with just the thought of him and his piercing brown eyes.
How could she still have that reaction after everything that had happened? Yeah, right. Lying to herself never got her anywhere. She’d never stopped loving Gunnar, even when she’d been in relationships with others. Wasn’t that why she was alone? Saylor thought it was Julie’s inability to trust again, which she supposed was partly true.
But the bigger truth, the one Julie had kept inside all these years, was that she still saw his face when she closed her eyes.
Still felt his fingers slide through her hair.
It wouldn’t be fair to start a relationship with anyone else when she still longed for another. Saylor would keel over dead, then come back to haunt Julie if she ever told her cousin. So, Julie kept it all inside. No need to throw Saylor into a conniption over it when there was no chance of changing the status quo.
Only… now there was a chance, wasn’t there?
Julie leaned her shoulder against a trophy case and closed her eyes with a shake of her head. Thoughts like that wouldn’t help her sleep. Thoughts like that wouldn’t help her, period.
Just because Gunnar suddenly showed up, didn’t mean they could start right back where they’d left off. Even if he was interested, she didn’t want that. The memory of how cherished she’d felt in his arms flitted through her mind, calling her a liar… again.
She gritted her teeth and stomped toward the pool.
Memories and longings didn’t matter.
Reality did.
Getting her hopes up that a future waited for her and Gunnar would only lead to more heartache. For both their sakes, she’d leave the past in the past, the good and the bad. She had promised to always be his friend. This expedition was the perfect proving ground for that promise.
Stashing her clothes in the locker room, she snagged the hotel towel and rushed out toward the pool. The sooner she got in the water, the quicker she could work herself to exhaustion. She needed sleep if she was going to be in top shape before they left.
Soft splashes echoed in the cavernous room, drawing her attention to the water. Gunnar glided through the water with sure, smooth strokes, flipped at the opposite wall, then rocketed back toward her. With a groan, her shoulders slumped, though her heart skipped like a startled squirrel, then pounded as fast as excited squirrel chatter.
The universe hated her.
Or God had a twisted sense of humor.
Resigned to the fact that Gunnar wouldn’t be getting out of her head soon, she tossed her towel on the bench next to his and sat on the edge of the pool. She dangled her legs in the water, trying to ignore the increase in her pulse as each stroke brought him closer. Not once did his pace falter. Did he realize she was here? Maybe it’d be better to slip away and let him do his laps in peace.
About halfway across, he disappeared under water. She searched, waiting for him to pop up like a seal, probably on the opposite side, far from her. He came into view, swimming along the bottom of the pool directly toward her.
She clenched her hands around the smooth concrete edge. Her chest weighed a ton as she tried to take a deep breath of chlorine-thick air and calm down. The closer he got, the harder it was to breathe.
This was a mistake.
She should just leave.
No. Avoiding him would only last so long. It’d be better to get this awkwardness over now before they were fighting for their lives on the sea ice.
Gunnar skimmed up the side of the pool. For a second, she thought he’d grab her ankle and pull her in like he used to. She pressed her lips together to stifle the ridiculous disappointment when he didn’t.
He broke the surface, water cascading down his head. It really wasn’t fair that he still looked like some sea god. If merpeople existed, he’d be their king. He wiped a hand down his face and held on to the side of the pool with the other.
The heaviness of being here with him, of seeing him healthy and alive after so many years of wondering, threatened to push her into the water and drown her. She’d been a fool to think she’d ever get over him, but he didn’t need the tension that her inability to move on would cause.
He already struggled around others. She could tell by the way he always looked like a jack-in-the-box coiled too tight. Something had happened to him while he was deployed. Maybe lots of somethings. Which made sense, given how changed he now was. He’d never been as outgoing as Sunny, but he’d always found enjoyment around others. Now, it seemed like a struggle. Even here, with just the two of them, his shoulders bunched like he was ready to bolt.