Just as I expected, even with the three of them piled onto the motorcycle, they’re still overloaded with bags. The more we unload, the more we’ll need to haul back, clean, organize, and repack.

  Don’t they realize that? It would be so much easier to have this barbecue near the truck. Better yet, use the truck’s kitchen — it’s more organized and way less messy than cooking outside.

  “Need help, Wally?” Sam asks after dropping the last box next to my friend.

  “I got it from here,” Wally nods, satisfied as he pulls the meat from the cooler. “Everything’s perfect.”

  “Would you like a hand, honey?” Ella offers.

  “I’m just getting the meat ready,” Wally replies with a warm smile. “We’ll handle the other dishes closer to lunchtime. Go finish your book — I know you’re itching to get back to it.”

  Wally proposes with a warm smile at his wife before turning back to the meat, rubbing his hands together with eager anticipation.

  “Aha…” Zoe draws in a breath, staring at a tarp Sam just pulled from his massive backpack — the one he hadn’t touched yesterday. “Is that a stand-up paddleboard?” she asks, excitement bubbling.

  “Thought we could use it on the river,” Sam grins.

  “I’m getting my swimsuit!” Zoe dashes into the tent while Sam hooks up an electric pump, and the inflatable paddleboard starts to take shape.

  “Buying my niece’s affection with toys again, huh?” I grumble to Wally.

  “You’re only mad because you’re not sure if you’ll get to play too.”

  I make a face at him, earning a laugh. Honestly, he looks happier here. His mood’s lighter, more relaxed.

  I hear something bumping the cooler. A light kick reveals the annoying little furball behind it, trying to steal the meat. I move the box out of his reach.

  “Zoe, don’t go alone,” Wally calls out, noticing Zoe carrying the paddleboard to the river, Furioso trotting beside her.

  “Uncle, come with me while Sam gets changed! You’re already in your swim trunks.”

  Furioso circles her, stopping her from wading deeper than her ankles.

  Might as well hop on the board with her before Sam shows up and inevitably keeps me from getting near him — or the paddleboard.

  The water’s cool against my feet, a refreshing change from the blistering heat. I wade deeper, helping Zoe climb onto the board while shivering as the cold water reaches my thighs.

  “Go a bit deeper; it’s too shallow if she falls. But don’t go too far,” Wally calls from shore, hand hovering over the fire to test the heat.

  Easy for him to say. It’s not his balls diving into this ice bath.

  “Sam, what the hell are you wearing?” Zoe pauses, paddling halfway to the water.

  I turn to see the man decked out in a full neoprene wetsuit, complete with water shoes, an obnoxiously bright orange life vest, a cap, swim goggles, shorts over the suit, and a matching waterproof backpack. He looks like he could be spotted from space.

  “Do you not know how to swim?” Zoe asks, utterly baffled.

  “I know, but I don’t trust the waters. The current could be tricky.”

  “It’s okay to admit you can’t swim,” Zoe says.

  “I can swim.”

  Then he takes off his life jacket, strides straight into the river, and dives in, ignoring the temperature completely. He swims for a bit with strong, well-executed strokes — smooth like a dance, but powerful enough to push him forward quickly.

  “See? I can swim.” He heads back to the shore.

  Sam opens a waterproof bag, pulling out clothes and what looks like a shark-themed life vest for the dog and a mermaid one for Felina, the cat.

  “They’re adorable.” Zoe tilts her head, clasping her hands by her cheek.

  “Sam, do you dress like this at the beach too, or what?” I can’t help but ask. The ocean’s got currents too, after all.

  “Of course.”

  “I think I’ll pretend I don’t know you too.” I raise an eyebrow with a crooked grin.

  “Better for me.” He smirks, walking over with his two loyal sidekicks swimming behind him.

  “I thought cats didn’t like water.” Zoe stares at Felina, who looks as relaxed as a fish.

  “She loves it — follows me into the shower and everywhere else I go. But she still has those moments of pure chaos where she suddenly rebels against the water.”

  “I’ve heard pets reflect their owner’s personality,” I say, side-eyeing him.

  “Seriously? Do you think I’m as fearless as Felina and as reliable as Furioso? Thanks, you’re always so full of compliments.” He puts a hand on his chest, dramatically feigning emotion before rolling his eyes. “Yeah, but NO.”

  “Sure… I guarantee that wasn’t a compliment. And saying something that ridiculous only proves your insanity.”

  He shrugs, not even bothering to look at me.

  “Can I try getting on with you?” Sam asks Zoe.

  “Yeah,” she says, crawling to the front of the board.

  “Why don’t you stay in the middle? That way, Felina and Furioso have space.” Sam suggests.

  Then he looks over at Wally, speaking louder. “I was thinking we could float down the river to the next camping beach and walk back. It’s only about a 20-minute walk. I checked it out this morning.”

  “Is it far? Dangerous? Will it take long?” Wally asks.

  “I looked into this river before our trip,” Sam explains, “and according to my research, it's a well-known spot for activities like this — even children participate. I walked the trail this morning to confirm. It's a leisurely 20-minute walk back.”

  “Alright. That trail? That one?” Wally points.

  “Yeah, the first beach on that trail.”

  “Okay, go ahead.”

  Sam climbs on behind Zoe. He grabs Furioso by his vest and lifts him onto the front, then does the same with Felina.

  “Wow, this thing holds a lot of weight.” Zoe eyes the board, which doesn’t even sink a little. It looks more like a big, stable platform than a paddleboard. “Get on too, uncle!”

  Find this and other great novels on the author's preferred platform. Support original creators!

  Yeah… not happening. There’s space, sure, but no way. To balance, I’d have to sit near Sam, not Zoe or the animals — and Sam would definitely toss me into the river when I least expected it, maybe against a rock for good measure.

  Sam eyes the paddle. “Is it a problem that I only brought one? The truck didn’t have more.”

  “No worries, my uncle can paddle. I saw him doing rowing exercises — without a row — at the gym. He must like it,” Zoe teases, trying to pull the paddle away to hand it to me.

  Great. If Sam doesn’t try to kill me, it’s only because he wants me as his paddling slave.

  “I’ll paddle. Sit with Zoe.” Sam hugs the paddle like it’s his precious treasure.

  “I’ll swim alongside,” I decide, ending the argument.

  “Zoe, let me strap this to your ankle first. That way, if you fall, you’ll stay close to the board since you don’t have a vest. Want mine?”

  “No, I can swim. I don’t use floaties anymore.” Zoe points to her arms like a kid showing off their muscles.

  “Alright, but hold on to the board.”

  “What about my uncle? He doesn’t have a vest or anything tied to him.” Zoe frowns.

  Sam slides his gaze over me with that smug superiority, clearly thinking: Let him die.

  “He can hold on to the board.”

  “Why do you think the river’s dangerous if you know how to swim?” I ask, swimming alongside, refusing to cling to the paddleboard like Leonardo DiCaprio dying in Titanic.

  “I’m not saying to be scared. I just prefer to stay cautious, the same way the ocean has currents — even strong swimmers struggle against them.”

  “Do you take this board to the beach too?” Zoe asks, changing the subject entirely.

  “Yeah. I don’t know any cool tricks, but we have fun.”

  “Felina and Furioso too?”

  “They love it.”

  “Look at them now,” Zoe points out, watching the dog lie down, soaking in the breeze, while the cat stares at the water, curiously tapping it with a paw.

  Sam starts paddling. “When I walked the trail to the next beach, I noticed there’s a part where the river speeds up a bit. I read it’s a popular spot for tubing or other floaters. Are you sure you want to swim?”

  I glance at him, trying to figure out where this question came from, but his expression gives nothing away. He’s focused on the peaceful river, not even looking at me.

  “I’m good here,” I reply as he keeps paddling.

  We round a bend, and suddenly, white foam from the rapids comes into view.

  “Zoe, hold on to the board handle.”

  She obeys immediately. Both the dog and the cat perk up, pressing their bellies against the paddleboard, paws braced for balance.

  I position myself, next to the back edge of the board.

  The water jolts us like a jacuzzi at first — fun, bubbly. Then it shifts into full-blown washing machine mode. Next thing I know, I’m clinging to a rock, trying to climb up.

  I pull myself up, dripping and breathless, watching Zoe laugh like she’s on a roller coaster while Sam paddles hard, fighting for control and balance.

  They make it past the rough water and realize I’m no longer behind them.

  “Uncle, what are you doing up there? Come on, get over here!” Zoe waves me forward.

  “Want me to come get you?” Sam asks, his voice flat, barely holding back an eye roll.

  “No need. I’m coming. I was just… checking on you guys. Making sure you were handling it okay. If Zoe fell, I could spot her from up here.”

  That’s exactly what happened — or at least, if I believe the lie hard enough, maybe it’ll become true.

  “We’re past it now. You can come,” Zoe declares.

  “Looks like Furioso came to check on you,” Sam notes as the dog emerges from the trees beside me. “When he jumps in, follow him. I don’t think he can swim against this current.”

  Furioso stops a little ahead of my rock, watching me.

  I carefully climb down, trying not to slip between the foamy water and the slick rocks. As soon as I’m in the water, ready to let go of the rock, the dog leaps straight at me.

  Thrown off balance, I float, trying to steer with my legs forward so I can kick off the rocks with my feet — not my head.

  The dog ends up swimming right on top of my stomach, and I manage to grab onto two handles on his shark-style life vest. It helps me stay afloat, but I leave him enough room to paddle, guiding us surprisingly smoothly through the rushing rapids.

  Once I feel the water calm down, I don’t think twice — I hug Furioso tight and plant a kiss on his head.

  “Good boy… Yes… you’re… you’re man’s best friend. You’re adorable.” What an amazing dog — way better than his owner. Furioso might look fierce, but he’s a… “Good boy.”

  “There’s one last stretch of rapids,” Sam warns me in his usual monotone voice.

  “I don’t think this thing can hold all three of us,” I say.

  “Get on. You’re probably the heaviest, so you stay in the back.”

  “Let my uncle paddle. Sit with me.”

  Sam kneels, making space for me.

  “It worked out.” Zoe watches me from where she stands, while Sam hands me the paddle. “I didn’t know they made boards like this.”

  “It’s gotta be extra stable — I use it for fishing. Better get used to paddling; the next rapids are coming up soon.” He taps his ear, and we hear the rushing water ahead.

  “Whoa.” Zoe nearly slips when we hit a rock.

  Sam clamps her waist between his knees, holding Furioso against the paddleboard while Zoe pulls Felina into her lap.

  “Go for it. You’ve got this.” Sam points the way.

  The river roars ahead, a twisting, frothing highway of water. My heart pounds as I grip the paddle tighter. Each surge of the current feels like a living thing, tugging and jerking the paddleboard beneath us. The sun glints off the churning waves, blinding me for a second as we bounce off a rock, spinning sideways.

  I fight to correct us, my muscles burning with every stroke. Water sprays up, soaking us, and the air smells like fresh rain and adrenaline. Furioso barks, half-excited, half-panicked, while Felina lets out a high-pitched meow that sounds suspiciously like a scream. Sam shouts directions over the roar, his voice steady despite the chaos. Zoe clings to him, knuckles white, but her eyes sparkle with that wild, reckless excitement I know too well.

  The board wobbles dangerously. For a second, I think we’re going under — but Furioso shifts his weight, counterbalancing us, and somehow we stay upright. It’s less like riding a wave and more like wrestling a crocodile that’s dead-set on dragging us downstream.

  It’s terrifying. It’s exhilarating. It’s the most alive I’ve felt in a long time.

  We finally hit a patch of calm water, drifting into a peaceful, sandy bank that feels like another world compared to the chaos behind us.

  “We made it!” Zoe exclaims, looking back at me. “That was amazing! And…” She raises an eyebrow at me, impressed. “Wow… JJ… you’re good. You made it through all that standing up.”

  I shake the water from my hair, breathing hard but smiling. “Yeah, it was pretty cool. Turns out it really is pretty stable,” I say, breathless, grinning as I wipe the water from my face. “Considering the rapids and my complete lack of river skills, we made it through without a hitch.”

  Zoe beams at me, her hair dripping, eyes still shining. “You liked it too.”

  Felina leaps off her lap, nearly knocking me over as I stumble to my knees. Sam freezes for a second, his gaze flicking to me — but he looks away just as fast like he’s trying not to meet my eyes. He glances at Zoe instead, then shifts awkwardly.

  “Look at those fish!” Zoe dips her toes into the water, her voice light and carefree.

  Without warning, Sam jumps off the paddleboard plunging into the deeper part of the river like he’s making a getaway. I can’t shake the feeling he’s avoiding me. He won’t look at me directly like I’m contagious or something.

  “Sam, what’s in your backpack?” Zoe grabs it as Sam shrugs it off and drops it onto the board.

  “Just the essentials for a short hike. Got some goggles if you wanna check out the fish.”

  Zoe perks up, digging through the bag until she finds them. Her excitement is contagious — the tension fades as she pulls the goggles on and wades into the water.

  It feels like the start of something new, something fun, and for the first time in a while, I’m not thinking about the next set of rapids ahead.

  But I can’t shake the weird feeling about Sam, not with him acting like that. He won’t look at me. He hasn’t since I nearly crashed into him. His face was unreadable then, but now he keeps his eyes on the water, like I’m not even here. And it shouldn’t bother me — but it does.

  He’s always looked at me with irritation like I’m a thorn in his side. He pokes and prods with sarcasm and sharp words. But when I fell behind him, his expression wasn’t anger. It was fear. He didn’t pull away out of annoyance — he flinched like I hit a nerve.

  Why? I didn’t do anything. I just tripped. He’s the one who’s always pushed me, challenged me — hell, he even held a knife to my stomach once. The worst I did was shove him back. And now he looks scared of me?

  Did he think I was trying to… do something to him? I fell too close, almost on top of him. Shit. What if he got the wrong idea? Not that I care what Sam thinks — or at least I shouldn’t — but the idea of him seeing me as some kind of creep makes my stomach twist.

  Does he think I’m some kind of perverted creep who tried to grab him from behind? Seriously? Maybe I should make it clear I’m not into him like that — not into guys at all. Though knowing Sam, he probably still hates me over the grease incident.

  It’s stupid. I didn’t do anything wrong. But that look — like I was something disgusting or dangerous — it sticks with me, humiliating and confusing. This guy treats any accidental touch like a personal attack, and now I’m left replaying that moment again and again, the weight of his disgust hitting harder than any rapids.

  God. This whole thing’s a mess. I just want to crawl into a hole and stay there.