Page 30 of Slash & Burn

She shrugged. “You live a pretty fast-paced, city life, right? I wouldn’t blame you if this was too slow to keep your attention.”

For all the ways it felt like Jill knew me, she was way off on this one. “Not a chance. I love it up here. If I could teleport to games and live the rest of my life out here, I would.”

“Really? Even with all that you’ve seen?”

“Really. There’s a magic about this place that I’ve never felt anywhere else.”

She hummed, her eyes drifting back to the sky as she considered that. “So, now that you know my sordid past. Does that mean I get to ask you about yours?”

My stomach flopped over on itself, the curiosity in her gaze shooting a dart right through me. “I guess so. Are we talking dating or the thing in Miami?”

Her brow scrunched up like she’d bitten into something sour. “Ew. I don’t want to know about your sexual exploits. I’ve done a good job of avoiding that fodder all these years, let’s not tarnish my image of you any further.”

It was hard not to laugh at her, but my humor died when I realized that meant she wanted to hear about the drowning.

“Only if you’re okay to talk about it.” She swished her hand through the water. “Especially in here. That was probably a shitty thing to ask given where we are.”

My grip on the bench beneath me was so tight my hands were starting to hurt, so I let go and reached for my wine. “It’s okay. I can talk about it.”

Most of it, I thought while I was turned away from her. There were some parts of that day I wasn’t sure I’d ever be ready to reveal to anyone.

“Were you scared?”

I coughed, inhaling wine down the wrong pipe. “I think you already know the answer to that, but thanks for going straight for the jugular.”

Jill folded her lips in on themselves, just like she’d done in the hallway earlier and I couldn’t pull my eyes off them. They were stained with wine now, but just as full and enticing. My hands wrapped around the bench seat again, but this time fear had less to do with the tightness of my grip.

“Just tell me what you want to tell me then,” she said, shifting back and forth in front of the jet.

When her leg grazed mine she flinched, looking under the water at how close we were even though we were sitting on opposite sides. I liked her being close. I just wasn’t sure how close would be safe for her to get.

“I’d already worked out that morning,” I said, finding it easiest to just start from the beginning. “My arms were lead, but I had to get in some cardio, so I opted for a run along the beach instead of the treadmill.” I swallowed, my throat a little tighter every time I thought back to that morning.

“No wonder you look like”—she swung her hand in the air, little droplets flying in either direction as she roved over me with a glint in her eye—“that.”

She was trying to lighten the mood, something I appreciated more than I could say. The therapist the team had forced me to see right after had said that retelling the story wouldn’t be so hard if I was telling the right person. That it didn’t have to feel like reliving it every time, if I was with someone I trusted and stayed in the moment with them. Jill wasn’t taking what I said lightly, but she was making sure I didn’t slip too far into the memory.

She really was good at this.

“I’d forgotten my ear pods in my hotel room.” I shook my head, still amazed at that tiny detail. “If I’d been wearing them, there’s no way I’d have heard his cries.”

Jill nodded somberly, her eyes never leaving mine.

“By the time I swam all the way out to where he was, I was tired. Way too tired to even be of much use. But I wasn’t really thinking at that point. I was just trying to get to him. And then when I did, it went so fucking sideways.”

This time when her leg grazed mine it wasn’t an accident and Jill didn’t flinch. When she did it again I nudged mine back. It sent a spike of adrenaline through me, the memory of my legs tangling with Julian’s that morning sitting just below the surface. But with my eyes locked on her, I forced myself to keep breathing.

“He wasn’t easy to hold onto, and pulling him down the beach until we were out of the rip was . . .” I couldn’t say it was more than I could manage, because I’d managed it. But it felt like more. It felt never-ending. But I’d done it, so this was the point in the story where everyone usually slapped me on the back and said, “but you did it,” even though that never once made me feel better.

“Terrifying?” Jill asked, her sweet face hung low, the corners of her lips turned down as she waited me out.

“Yeah. That.”

“And what else?”

Watching the water churn between us, I could still feel the panic as Julian thrashed against me, still taste the salt as water filled my throat. “Hopeless.”

“Oh, Grady.” Jill slid along the seat toward me.

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