That was fun. Not something I’ll be looking to do again in a rush, but I enjoyed competing way more than I expected.

“Jessie, you nailed it.” Having been knocked out, I’ve now joined the rest of the onlookers, watching the show play out with Florian and Jessie.

“I did, didn’t I? No one can ever say that I don’t know how you and Elliott work.”

“Yeah, you judged it just right,” Florian agrees. “Setting them against one another was a class act. It brought out the most competitive side of them both.”

I can’t prevent the grin from plastering itself over my face. “I’ve had a ball. Thanks for pushing us, Florian.” I nudge him.

What I don’t admit is that I am secretly pleased that I was knocked out. Clambering up a ninety-foot pole is more suited to Elliott’s daredevil side. At my weight and with how that thing sways around, it was never going to be my forte. With me out of the way, Elliott will be eager to show off, and at least have a chance of progressing further through the competition.

He has to get there first, though, and that means he's legging it from one side of the lake to the other via a series of floating logs. His balance is spot on, and he’s as fast as a whippet, so I’m quietly confident that he’s going to nail this. My good humor makes me see the funny side of nailing it with it being a lumber-jacking championship, and I allow myself a private laugh. Neither Florian nor Jessie notices. They’re busy cheering as Elliott appears.

“And now, please give a hand for Elliott Beaumont-Judd,” the guy announces over the megaphone.

Elliott is waving his arms like he owns the crown, and I inwardly berate him. Having kicked my butt, he’s now overflowing with overzealous confidence. His eyes flash with a fire I’ve not seen since he was racing. While I had expected him beating me would buoy him up, this is something more.

“Go, Elliott!” I scream like a groupie, cupping my hands to my mouth to ensure he hears.

He turns, waves at me, and I swell with pride.

My Elliott is back. The guy I fell in love with, who has been battling court cases and health issues has had those fears and stresses washed away when we both landed in that freezing cold lake earlier.

The person who remains is my man, one brimming with purpose, but also with fun. The light-hearted guy who teases and laughs and competes is now presented to the crowd right in front of me, waving his arms like the confident competitor he is to his core. And just when I didn’t think it was possible to love him any more, a piece of my heart previously hidden in the depths of its protective walls surfaces.

My Elliott is back.

Elliott turns and readies himself in a standing-start position. One other guy is lined up on either side of him, and each adopts the same stance.

“I’m excited. Elliott should nail this with the way he’s been performing,” Florian mutters.

The horn goes, interrupting any chance of us replying as we focus on what’s happening. Elliott is behind.

“GO!” I cheer.

“Come on, Elliott! Push! You can do this.”

Florian’s Irish twang rings out above the pack, and Elliott responds. He digs deep into his reserves and almost jumps the whole length of a log to arrive at the halfway point at the far end of the lake. He twists in mid-air, landing with a graceful agility I will never possess no matter how hard Florian works with me, and he is off.

He powers forward, and his competitor is left trailing in his wake. In no time he’s cheering on the edge of the bank, having won his heat.