He won the race. You lost the bet.

And now he’s waist-deep in an ice bath, shirtless, eyes wide from the cold, curls damp against his forehead. You watch from the edge of the trailer, arms crossed.

“Okay, you did it. Bet over.”

“Not quite,” he breathes out through chattering teeth. “You said if I did it, you’d join me.”

You blink.

“That was not part of the bet.”

“It was implied.”

He scoots to one side of the tub.

“Come on. It'll be fun. I’ll keep you warm.”