At the Water's Edge by Harper Bliss Page A

I’m not.
    “Thank you.” The words bubble up from the bottom of my heart.
    “For what?” Despite the darkness, I see the kindness in her eyes.
    “Just for being you—and being here.”
    “Oh, Ella,” she pauses for a split second, “you have no idea.”
    Before I have a chance to respond, she swims off in the other direction. Momentarily stunned, I watch her as the distance between us grows bigger, but I don’t give her time to get away too far. I’m not as good a swimmer as Kay, and it takes a while before I catch up with her. I rest my elbows on the landing where she has chosen to rest, breathing in deeply to restore my heart rate to something acceptable.
    “What did you mean by that?” I manage to puff out between sharp intakes of breath. Our elbows nearly touch.
      “Nothing, really.” Kay slowly turns her head to face me. “Nothing I could possibly burden you with right now, anyway.” Something in her eyes has changed. As if, deep inside of her, a battle is raging, a fierce debate on whether to lower her defenses or not.
    “Come on. I just shared the best kept Goodman family secret with you.”
    Under water, our feet bump into each other.
    Her eyes still on me, our feet now a safe distance apart, she says, “I take it back. I shouldn’t have said that.”
    “What? Why?” I feel the moment slipping away.
    “Additionally, I could never tell you while your naked body is floating so close to me.”
    Suddenly, I’m very aware of my nipples and how hard they’ve become. How the water between my legs seems to pulse to the rhythm of my heartbeat.
    “Never mind.” Kay starts pushing herself out of the water, gulps of it cascading down her strong arms. “I’ll get you a towel.” I watch her totter off toward the lodge and I’m fairly certain of what she wanted to say. I feel it too, but, perhaps for different reasons, I can’t say it either.

CHAPTER TWELVE

    The next day, I invite my father for a beer at The Attic. As close to home turf as it gets for him. It’s the middle of the afternoon, and, apart from us, Joe the bartender, and a lone figure hunching over the bar, it’s empty. At my request, Dad and I slide into a booth, waiting for our first beer before launching into anything resembling a conversation.
    “Look, Ellie,” he starts uncomfortably. “What I said the other day… heat of the moment stuff, you know?”
    “It’s fine, Dad.” I dismiss his comment with a wave of my hand. Maybe it bothers him that Kay owns this place—possibly his favorite place in Northville. And that of the money he spends here treating his buddies, a considerable amount goes straight into her pocket. I try to empty my brain of assumptions. In my family, we hardly ever speak before thinking—often ending up not speaking at all because we think we have it all so figured out in our heads already, anyway.
    “I’ve known Kay Brody since she was born. I know she’s all right.” Already, his eyes are watery—all the emotions he fails to express in words always surfacing there. “She hasn’t had the easiest time, with both her parents passing so quickly after each other. And then the whole history with Jeff. It must have taken a toll.”
    “Kay is the most level-headed, honest, down-to-earth person I’ve met in a very long time.” I choke up a bit as I say it.
    Dad looks up, the question burning on the tip of his tongue. But Joe brings our beers, slapping both me and my father on the shoulder in some sort of awkward, friendly gesture. Dad takes a big gulp, his frame visibly relaxing.  
    “Is something going on between the two of you? I’m not asking so I can judge or give my opinion. I’m only asking because you’re my daughter, Ellie. I feel as if I know nothing about you anymore.”
    My dad’s forwardness takes me aback—and makes me wonder if he had a few shots of whiskey before coming here.
    “No. We’re friends.” I try to keep my tone steady. “I didn’t come here to fall in