Free The Lake (The Lake Trilogy, Book 1) by AnnaLisa Grant Page B

get my head on the same page. Gram laid the foundation for my inability to trust and I have to force myself to not put everyone in her boat. If I hadn’t had Gramps to show me the only kindness I received in that home, I’m sure I wouldn’t have come here. It was because of him that I was able to retain some softness in my heart.
    “Thank you,” he says quietly.
    “For what?”
    “For your trust. I asked you a personal question earlier today, when I had no right to. I appreciate you trusting me…because you can.” He shifts his weight and his right hand moves from his lap to the dock and for a split second I think that he might try to hold my hand or put his arm around me, but it rests there on a single plank. It was a silly thought and I chastise myself for having it. Silly girl.
    I’m quiet. I want to change the subject. I really don’t like talking about me, and this is the most I ever have, so I break the silence and ask, “Do you mind if I ask you a question?” I hope the trust goes both ways, but I have no guarantees.
    “Of course. You can ask me anything.” I believe him. He has a way of answering with just the right words and expression on his face to not make me doubt a single syllable that leaves his beautiful mouth.
    “Gwen said something earlier today about your parents not wanting you to play sports. What’s that about? Isn’t this supposed to be a big high school football town?”
    “Oh, that. Well, it’s not really that big a deal. My parents just don’t want me to put all my extra time toward something that doesn’t have ‘long term potential.’” He makes air quotation marks and rolls his eyes slightly. “I’m slated to go to Princeton like my dad. He had a wing of the library named after him or something, so…” He doesn’t sound as enthusiastic as someone who is guaranteed a spot at one of the most prestigious schools in the country should. He sounds…embarrassed. Maybe it’s because he didn’t get in on his own. I suppose if his dad made a donation large enough to have a building named after him, he can demand that his kid be accepted.
    “So if you’re guaranteed a spot, what difference should it make whether you play sports or not?” I ask.
    “It shouldn’t. But…my father and I disagree about a lot of things. Going to Princeton is just the tip of the iceberg,” he says.
    “What do you mean?” I’m trying to make sense of it. Why would he not want to go to Princeton?
    “Well, that’s the complicated part. You see…” He doesn’t get to finish because it is at that moment that all of the outside lights shut off both at the back of the house and at the dock where we are sitting. It’s eleven o’clock already?
    “Oh, no, the light!” I say, now fearful of how to make it back up to the house without breaking my leg. Right now the moon is bright enough to cast all the light we need to see each other here on the dock, and we’ll be fine about halfway up the flagstone path, but after that it’ll be difficult to see. “Well, this should be interesting,” I think out loud.
    “Oh, c’mon...it won’t be so bad. You’ve walked this path at least 50 times already. You know your way. And…I’ll be with you. I do have a little experience in catching you, should you fall.” He smiles playfully and I can’t help but mirror him.
    We put our shoes back on and stand up. When we reach the edge of the dock I revisit where we left off in our conversation. “So…you were about to tell me why things with your parents are complicated.” I hope he hasn’t changed his mind about sharing with me.
    “You don’t let things go, do you?” He chuckles as I shake my head. “Well, I was going to say that I just don’t have the same aspirations as my father. He sees success and wealth as the greatest things someone can achieve.”
    “And you don’t see it that way.” This isn’t a question, but a pleasant observation on my part.
    “No, I don’t. I…uh…I actually