by Max Monroe
“I’m going to look like a pregnant woman’s cankle in this thing.”
I snort. “And what a beautiful cankle you’ll be.”
Several curse words leave her lips in a string I can’t make out as she snatches the suit from my extended hand and stomps away toward the public restroom. Little does she know, they keep those locked on every day of the week but Saturday and Sunday, but I don’t think it’s smart for the news to come from me. This is the kind of thing she should figure out for herself.
Of course, given the need to change in her car, there is a possibility she’ll just get in it and drive off. But that’s a chance I’m just going to have to take.
I’ll wait until after our swim to show her the other bathrooms all of us Navy men know are across the street. By then, she’ll be able to laugh about it, I’m sure. She’ll just be glad to have a shower to rinse off all the seawater once we’re done.
But for now, a little annoyance is good. It’ll keep her safe and alert in the water.
Holley’s hand in mine, I lead her out into the water at an extremely tentative pace. Her hand is like a vise, and it’s pulling me back toward the sand like an untrained horse on a lead line.
It’s safe to say she’s feeling pretty reluctant about our swim this morning, but I’m confident, once I get her out there, I’ll be able to show her enough techniques to help her relax.
And if not, that’s fine. I can carry her the whole time without much trouble. I’m almost more at home in the water than I am on solid ground.
“Come on,” I coax softly, “It’s all right. I’m not even wearing a wet suit today. That’s how you know we’re not doing anything too intense.”
“Shh,” she says, and immediately a smile curves up both sides of my lips.
“We’re better off getting past the breaking waves. It’s much calmer out there, but we have to—”
“Shh,” she snaps again, and I laugh.
“Do you want to just climb on my back? Hold your breath? I’ll have us out there in under fifteen seconds.”
“What are you, Ocean Uber?” she asks, her voice half amused, half terrified.
“Something like that,” I agree with a grin. “Just trust me, Holley. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She looks at the waves as they crash ahead of me and then back at me and, without much prodding, agrees. “Okay, fine.”
I don’t give her a chance to second-guess her agreement. Gently, I grab her by the arm and turn around to lift her up.
“Wh-what are you doing?” she asks as I wrap a hand around her thigh.
“Putting you on my back,” I say slowly. “You know, like we just talked about.”
“I’m reconsidering.”
“Holley, just get on.”
She frowns and then steps forward again to put both hands to my shoulders. “I think I can get on myself.”
“Fine. Whatever.” Anything to get this show on the road.
I stoop down with a bend of my knees, and she jumps—it is not graceful.
Rather, her hands slip on the slick of my skin, and she starts to fall, scraping at my neck and throat for some kind of purchase and almost knocking the two of us backward. I don’t wait for permission this time—I just grab her thighs and lift her up the rest of the way, wrapping her legs around me and securing her feet at my waist.
She’s silent while I cough, trying to catch my breath after her attempt to crush my windpipe.
“Um, whoops,” she whispers softly.
I shake my head, but I don’t say anything. I’m afraid to even try at this point.
She giggles as I run through the first wave as it crashes around my hips and clings tightly to my shoulders as I approach the next.
It’s coming fast, getting ready to break, and with the height of this one, it’s liable to break right at our heads.
“Hold your breath,” I instruct, just before diving through the body of it.
She stays with me as I shoot under the barrel and surface on the other side, and she screams a little in exhilaration as we come up.
I laugh, but she’s got commentary.
“This has got to be what it’s like to ride on the back of a sea turtle!”
I shake my head again and prepare for the next wave. I’m no longer able to touch the bottom, and we’ll have to be under the surface even more to clear this swell.
“Get ready to hold your breath again. Longer this time.”
I feel her nod against my back as the wave approaches, and I take a deep breath of my own as I submerse our bodies again.
The wave rolls over us, and we come up on the other side, and finally, we’ve reached the sweet calm of gentle swells.
I pull her around, off my back, and manipulate her body so that she’s floating on her back.
She clings a little in panic, but for the most part, she doesn’t fight it.
“This is the easiest way to stay afloat,” I tell her, putting gentle pressure on her back so she lifts her belly higher toward the sky. “Just like this. You could stay like this for hours if you had to. All you have to do is relax.”
She nods in the water and her chin almost goes under, so I reach under her back again and help her stomach back to the surface.
“See?” I say with a smile. “This isn’t so bad, right?”
“It’s not as bad as, like, water torture is, I’m sure,” she qualifies, and I laugh.
“Wow. A stellar review.”
“I’m nervous is all,” she mumbles, and I swim around to the other side of her outstretched body and move to float on my back right beside her.
“There’s nothing to be nervous about. I’m right here, and I promise I won’t let anything happen.”
“Okay,” she whispers quietly before blowing a breath toward the sky.
I watch as a couple clouds dance next to each other, headed farther out to sea.
“So…uh…what do we do now?” Holley asks after a brief minute of quiet.
I turn my head to face her and study the line of her profile. Her features are petite and proportionate, but her lips—they’re much fuller than average. Natural, though, not fake. I can tell.
“Well, normally, I would do some calisthenics followed by underwater training, but obviously, we can modify this morning to fit what you’re comfortable with. How are you at opening your eyes underwater?”
“I haven’t tried in the ocean, but I can do it in the pool. Is it different?”
“Some people think the salt water burns a little more. But I actually think it feels better than chlorine.”
“I guess I can try,” she says toward the vastly changing hues of the brightening sky above us. “Is there a lot to see down there?”
I chuckle. “A thing or two. It’s the ocean.”
“Yeah, well, I’m usually the I’d rather not know type of ocean gal. I’m better off without the intimate knowledge of all the things that could kill me in here. I have a feeling if I knew, I’d really never come in again.”
“I’m going to tell you what I always tell Chloe, but I’ll try not to sound like a condescending prick, okay?”
The corners of her mouth curve upward.
“Knowledge is power. It’s always better to have it.”
“I don’t know,” she hedges. “I’m pretty sure I’d rather not know a lot of stuff. The knowing is what’s caused me a fair amount of heartache.”
I shift in the water and take hold of her carefully to make sure she can see me. She’s been too scared to turn her head in my direction while on her back, and for some reason, I find it tremendously important that she is able to look me in the eye right now.
She searches my steady gaze as I grab on to her hips, lift up on her thighs, and force her legs around my waist.
It’s an incredibly intimate position—I’m not unaware—but it’s the easiest way to keep us both afloat out here while we talk.
It does mean that I have to wait at least thirty seconds, enough time to
let her eye sockets shrink back down to the realm of their normal size before I continue with my point.
“Knowledge is power,” I repeat, squeezing the fabric of the swimsuit above her hips to emphasize my words. “The reason it doesn’t feel like it sometimes is because of fear. Fear of conflict. Fear of consequences. Fear of dealing with something you have yet to establish a comfort level in.”
“You sound like you really believe that,” she comments softly, and I nod my head.
“When Chloe was born, I was an active Navy SEAL, on a mission in an undisclosed rain forest in a remote part of the world. For seventy-two hours, another man from my unit and I had been following a target, doing reconnaissance. I hadn’t been home in more than a month and I knew she was due soon, but when you’re out there, doing that kind of work, time passes differently.”
Holley agrees with an up-and-down tilt of her chin, though I know she doesn’t really understand. And not because she’s a woman or a civilian or any of that crap—I just know because I never understood either. Not until I lived it.
“Anyway, we were at the tail end of that assignment, working our way back to civilization, when we got word about Chloe’s mom going into labor. It’s not out of the ordinary for wives—or girlfriends, in my case—to give birth alone when they’re involved with a military member, but something about this meant that I was being given leave, effective immediately. There was a C-130J with my name on it, and I was on my way home, stateside.”
“That’s good, right?”
I smile—not the kind that conveys happiness and not the kind that’s faked. It’s a sad smile filled with sad memories from a long time ago.
“Knowledge is power, Holley, but no one saw fit to give me any. I walked into the hospital, dirty, sweaty, overtired, but happy. So, I went to the gift shop to get a couple things to celebrate. Wendy and I hadn’t planned on getting pregnant, but we were both excited anyway. But when I got to the front desk and asked for the room information, the guard immediately called upstairs to someone and they came down to meet me.”
Our close proximity forgotten, Holley takes a hand off of my shoulder and puts it to her lips.
“From there, I was taken to a room and informed that all the joy I’d spent the last twenty-four hours preparing to feel wasn’t to be my reality at all. Wendy had passed away during childbirth—a detail they’d known since the beginning and the reason for my leave—and I was the only person my brand-new daughter had left. Three days she’d been in the care of the hospital staff, without any other kin to call, waiting on me to arrive. Waiting on someone to bond with—a person to call home. And I was in the gift shop.”
I don’t know why I decided to share that story with her. A story I keep very close to the vest. But there’s just something about Holley Fields that makes me feel comfortable enough to open up.
“Jake,” she whispers, her voice laced with poignant sadness.
“Knowledge is power, Holley,” I repeat. “I spent a lot of time wishing I could redo a whole lot of those first moments—wishing I’d been given the chance to prepare for them better. It wouldn’t have lessened the heartache on my way home—it would have amplified it. But it would have given me the time to prepare to fight. Understand?”
She nods, the green of her eyes clearly shining with the moisture of unshed tears. Her hands have moved from my shoulders to my neck, and suddenly, the proximity of our bodies is feeling a hell of a lot less innocent.
In fact, I can feel my dick starting to get hard.
Gently, so as not to alarm her, I set her away enough to ensure I’m not at the center of an uncomfortable explanation but keep a hand to her elbow for support. She churns her legs in an active doggie-paddle, which is sure to tire her out quickly.
“What do you say we make our way back toward shore?” I suggest. “Go get some breakfast.” Today’s ocean exercise will be limited, but one day of variation isn’t going to kill me. I’ll be back into the workout and breathing exercises tomorrow.
She nods excitedly. “I love breakfast, Jake. And since knowledge is power, I just really thought you should know that.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “Are you mocking me?”
“Only a very little bit,” she qualifies. “It’s good advice, and I promise, I took you seriously. It was just too good of an opportunity to pass up.”
I nod and hum. “I see how it is.”
Her smile curves even the corners of her eyes, lighting them up with the reflection of the water. I take a hand and splash the surface in front of her, effectively sprinkling the peachy-tan of her skin with a million droplets.
“Ahh!” she shrieks, splashing me back without hesitation.
I laugh as she starts to move farther away and follow her. I’m fine with having her out here, but I don’t need her developing a late surge of confidence that gets her in trouble again.
“Come on, Holley,” I say. “Take my hand.”
“No way!” she says with a laugh. “I know what you’re going to do when I get close. You’re going to splash me again!”
“No, I’m not,” I assure. “I’m done with that childishness.”
“Sure,” she replies disbelievingly.
Needing a new tactic and running out of options, I go for something that’s bound to work but she won’t like very much.
Pulling my face into a position of concern, I look directly over her shoulder and lower my voice. “What’s that?” I ask suddenly, like I’m a little shaken.
She notes the seriousness on my face immediately. “What’s what?”
“That,” I say ominously. “Oh my God, Holley. It’s right behind you.”
“Oh my Gooood!” she squeals, panic making all her muscles tense up. The problem with that, of course, is that it’s going to make her sink that much faster.
I put out a hand toward her quickly. “Come on. Swim to me.”
She does as asked, looking over her shoulder with unconcealed fear, and I start to feel just the tiniest, slightest bit bad. I doubt it’ll stick, but at least when she reads me the riot act, I can honestly say I had a moment of conscience.
Holley safely within reach, I pull her up onto my back like before, only this time, she doesn’t hesitate to hold on.
We do the same routine as we did on the way out, beating the waves by swimming under them when we can. We’re in waist-deep water in no time, and Holley doesn’t waste even a moment before jumping down and running to the perceived safety of the sandy beach.
I take my time, a slow methodic walk out of the water allowing all the, ahem, parts of me I’m not always in control of time to calm down.
“What…what was that?” she asks from a spot next to our stuff, shivering in the air.
I reach down and grab a towel, offering it to her as a show of goodwill—you know, before I admit the truth.
She accepts it readily, and I grab one of my own while I answer. “There wasn’t anything. A couple of fish, maybe. Just wanted you to swim back over to me.”
“What?”
I laugh. I can’t help it; her face is too priceless. “There were probably some fish close to you, but that’s about it. I didn’t see the Loch Ness or that big shark from Jaws or anything like that.”
I can see an argument building in her mind, but remarkably, she closes it down before it even gets rolling.
“I’m scratching this from my memory.” She shakes her head. “Nope. This whole thing didn’t happen. Because I don’t want to think about Loch Ness monsters or sharks or fish, and I don’t want to think about how I’d like to wring Bachelor Anonymous’s neck.”
I laugh and shake out my hair, flinging some of the moisture in her direction.
“Hey, look at it this way. Now we can go to breakfast.”
“That is a positive,” she agrees. “I just wish I had somewhere better to change than my car.”
I bite my lip. Looks like the other thing I’m going to get in trouble for is swift on the first transgression’s
heels.
“Oh. Yeah. Well, see… There are some bathrooms across the street that are open. There’s a shower and everything, so you’ll be able to clean up pretty good.”
Her eyes narrow as she considers me, but she doesn’t say anything.
It’s almost scarier than having a woman get sassy. I smile, trying to disarm whatever bomb she’s got ticking, and when she rolls her eyes at my attempt at charming her, I have to laugh.
“Come on. I’ll show you where the bathroom is.”
She nods once and then shakes her head. I repeat the motions with my own head, trying to keep up with what’s coming next.
“I just didn’t want you to almost drown again,” I defend myself when she still doesn’t say anything.
It takes a heavy sigh, two clucks of her tongue, and a roll of her eyes, but she finally ends the silent treatment.
“Fine. Show me the bathroom, then.”
I smile, thrilled with my little victory, scoop up all of our belongings from the beach in one armful, and show her the way.
I can’t explain how weirdly enjoyable our needling has been this morning, but I know this—my shower is going to have to be a cold one.
Holley
Looking at my reflection in the bathroom mirror, I scrape my wet hair into a messy bun and twist it with a hair tie. Thanks to the shower, my skin and hair are devoid of the sticky residue of salt, but there’s nothing I can do about drying my wet locks. Luckily, if I leave it like this for a couple hours, it’ll dry on its own into a pretty decent showing of waves. Of all the things I’ve had tough in my life, making my hair work in a pinch isn’t one of them.
My T-shirt clings to my newly dried skin, and my nipples jab at the material of my bra. I try to tell myself it’s the cool air of the bathroom on previously heated skin, but I’m too much of a cynic to fully believe it doesn’t have anything to do with the man waiting for me outside and the time we spent in the water with his hands all over my body.
Having my legs wrapped around his hips, listening to him share the heartbreaking true story of his early life—I almost couldn’t take it. My whole body felt drawn toward him, like being pulled in by a black hole in space.