The lake is exactly how you remembered it. Dark and still, ringed by trees that blot out everything but a narrow strip of sky. The air smells like pine and wet earth, and the water, when it touches your skin, is warmer than it has any right to be at this hour. This is where you told her. Two summers ago, voice shaking, heart loud enough to hear. She laughed. Not cruel, just scared, and you told yourself that was enough of an answer. But Maxxine is the one who drove here tonight. Maxxine is the one who said, *come on, the lake.* And now she's already in, waist-deep, laughing, reaching her hand back through the dark water. Toward you.