Second Dive (Kings of the Water #3) - Jasmin Miller Page 0,34

open up to?

Or do I just have no willpower when it comes to this woman?

I haven’t talked to anyone about what’s going on, or rather, how unhappy and restless I’ve been. Sure, my coach seems to have an inkling, but that’s it.

Just saying these few thoughts aloud made my chest feel lighter and my breathing a little less confining.

Wait. Why hasn’t Chloe said anything yet?

I just answered her question, about a topic that has been filling me with nothing but dread and confusion lately, and she doesn’t reply?

After another moment of silence, I peek at her and find her staring at me.

And her eyes.

Shit.

It’s like she knows exactly how I feel. Just like the bond we used to have where one look is enough to connect us on a level I’ve never had with anyone else.

Over the years, I formed a decent link with the guys, and especially Coach Diaz, but never with this intensity.

A long time ago, when Chloe looked at me like this, with a pained look that somehow still managed to feel comforting, I wouldn’t have wasted a second. I would have grabbed her and pulled her close. Wrapped her in my arms and kissed the top of her head.

Finding solace in her arms used to be one of my favorite things. Sometimes it ended in more, other times not. But it always left me satisfied because it was her. Everything was better with her.

Now, I have to fight the urge, the instinct, to be her shelter. It’s like my brain is battling with itself, the thoughts racing through my head so quickly, I can barely make them out.

Comfort her.

No, stay strong.

She’s not your problem anymore.

But look at her. She’s clearly hurting.

My head’s starting to pound, but one question remains on my mind after I shut up the rest. Who am I trying to protect by not giving in to this need to comfort her? Her or me?

I clear my throat awkwardly. “Are you okay?”

She blinks and sniffles quietly. “What? Oh yeah, sorry.”

If she cries, I’ll lose my shit. I’m not the best at handling tears anyway, but with her? Not on my list of things I want to test today.

Chloe turns back to the wall and continues the finishing touches on her octopus. It’s enormous, its tentacles spreading along the whole length of the wall. “I’m sorry things aren’t going as planned for you.”

“I always thought I’d have a family by thirty. You know, the stereotypical two and a half kids, a dog, and a white picket fence.” And there goes my mouth again. Throwing out those words like it gets paid for it.

Her paintbrush slips out of her grasp, and reflex has both of us trying to catch it. Our hands collide, but we immediately pull back as if burnt. Thanks to this stunt, there’s now a zig-zag path of coral paint smeared across the wall.

“Damn it, I’m sorry. How bad is it?” I stare at the splatters across the outlines of the sea turtle, the stingray, the whale, and the hammerhead shark, while she grabs one of the rags to wipe off most of the mess.

She studies the wall and rubs some more. “There. It should be fine.”

“You’re amazing.” Her head snaps around at my words, her eyes wide as she gapes at me, and I gulp. “Your paintings, I mean.” Shit. What is wrong with me today? My mouth is just out of control.

“Thanks.” She doesn’t say anything else and gives me a tight smile.

Crap. I totally just made it worse.

She wrinkles her nose and shakes her head softly, before going back to painting. “You know, about what you said before, there’s still time to go after everything you want. It’s not like there’s a cut-off age when you turn thirty, or something like that.”

I wait for her to look at me so I can read her expression, but her gaze stays firmly on her work. Is she avoiding my scrutiny on purpose?

Her words sink into my consciousness, my brain mulling over them. On a rational level, I know there’s still time for everything. That I haven’t run out of options yet. But something’s nagging me about it. Maybe my gut? Something just doesn’t feel right, almost like I have run out of time. Like I’ve missed my chance but don’t know about it yet.

It’s hard to imagine a life without getting what I’ve always thought my future will look like. No wife, no kids, no dog, and no white picket fence. When