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Before my brain has a chance to register what’s happening, I dive down and grab her around the waist, lifting her back to the surface where she gasps for a deep breath of air.
My heart is pounding out of my chest, and my voice cracks as I hold back my emotion. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you.”
She gasps again and again.
“It’s okay. You’re breathing,” I say to her. “You’re safe.”
I hold her in close to me, my brain unwilling to accept the idea that she could have drowned right before me.
That I could have lost her.
“It’s okay.” I hold her tighter. “I’ve got you.”
CHAPTER 20
Natalie
With my head buried in his neck, I lose track of time and space.
He carries me out of the water, to the door, and through it. I hear it all, but I don't register anything. All I can handle right now is the sensation of his arms around me, holding me, keeping me safe.
“That's right,” he coos in my ear. “Everything is fine now.”
I let myself relax, but I'm trembling. There was a moment I saw the surface of the water above me, and it felt so far away. Like despite doing everything I could, I would never breathe air again, only water.
And then his arms were under me, leading me up, holding me as I gasped for air.
It doesn’t matter that he’s not fully dressed. Everyone is asleep. His skin is slick, but I am secure in his hold. The heat from his chest washes over me like a blanket. In his arms, I’m barely more than a cloud.
I relax my grip around his neck. I was probably holding him a little too tight, though he didn't say a thing. My hand grazes down his arm following the curve of his shoulder and arm, his muscles tense with the effort of carrying me up the stairs. His heart beats against me, a drum beating a reminder that he is one hundred percent man and not a dream.
The memory of panic is still alive in my throat, but my brain is beginning to reclaim reality. One thing is for sure.
I don't want him to let me go.
We arrive at my bedroom, and even though he’s got all my weight carrying me, he reaches out to open the door. My body shivers under his touch.
“Are you cold?” he whispers.
I shake my head.
“Are you still afraid?” He turns to look at me, his head two inches from mine.
I nod and he pulls me in tighter.
“Me too,” he says, and even though we are in my bedroom he doesn't yet put me down. He gently rocks me, holding me tight. “The worst has passed.”
Minutes go by—or maybe it's hours—and little by little the reality of who he is and who I am sneaks back into the room. He must notice it at the same time as me because his grip loosens just a touch. The lines of the muscles in his chest are comforting, but I know this moment has to end.
“I'm feeling better,” I whisper into his ear. The stubble of his cheek grazes me, I can tell right now he doesn't want to let me go, and I don't want him to.
But there aren't many alternatives. He sets me down on the edge of the bed like I might break and stands in front of me. He shifts his weight awkwardly seeming to not know what to do with his hands. It's understandable since indeed he is still in his underwear, and I am at a rather awkward angle sitting in front of him.
I ignore the view in front of me and instead look up to his eyes. From my spot down here, he looks so tall, so strong.
“You should sleep,” he says. “Do you need anything?”
I want you to spend the night with me, holding me in your arms until the sun rises, is what I want to say.
