Sophie decided the lake was “boring without chaos.”
Her words, not mine.
So she dragged all of us onto the water. Two kayaks, one motorboat, and a cooler full of beer that Noah insisted was “for morale.” Maya was already tipsy. Leo was in my kayak, paddling lazily and telling me a story about a failed shoot in Bali. I laughed, but my eyes kept drifting to the motorboat.
Liam stood at the wheel, arms braced, watching us like a lifeguard who didn’t trust the swimmers.
“You okay?” Leo asked.
“Fine,” I said. “Why?”
“You keep checking on your overprotective shadow.”
I splashed him. He retaliated.
We were halfway across the cove when the wind shifted.
It came fast. One second the water was flat, the next it was choppy and gray, whitecaps slapping against the hull. The
