TESSA;

The chlorine smell always hit me first.

I stood at the edge of the pool deck in my university swimsuit, goggles hanging around my neck, watching Coach Nolan bark instructions at the team. His voice carried across the water the same way it had when I was sixteen and he coached my high school team. Deep. Steady. The kind of voice that made you want to push harder even when your arms felt like lead.

He hadn’t changed much in three years. Still tall. Still broad shoulders and that serious expression he wore like armor. A few more lines around his eyes maybe. A little more gray in the...