The rhythmic splash of water echoed through the air as Edwin cut through the crystal-clear pool with the intensity of an Olympic hopeful. His muscular arms sliced through the water, propelling him forward with a force that sent waves crashing against the pool's edges. Each stroke was purposeful, each kick powerful, as if he were trying to outswim his very thoughts.
From the window, three pairs of eyes watched the actor's aquatic marathon with growing concern.
"He's been at it for over an hour now," Max muttered, glancing at his watch for the umpteenth time. "I've seen actual Olympians take shorter practice sessions."
Marcus nodded grimly. "Something's eating at him. He's swimming like he's trying to escape his own skin."
Kimberly pressed his forehead against the cool glass of the windo
