Page 78 of The Summer We Played Pretend

Nothing else matters. Not the cold. Not the storm. Not even my own safety. Just Chloe.

As my fingers brush against her arm, I make a silent promise. I'm never letting her go again.

I yank her close as waves threaten to tear us apart and I loop an arm about her waist, pulling her close as I kick furiously against the current. The waves crash over us, threatening to tear her from my grasp, but I hold on tighter. Thank God for those lifesaving classes my Dad forced me to take as a kid.

Her body is limp, and panic surges through me. Fighting to keep both our heads above water, every stroke toward the shore feels like an eternity. The rain is disorientating mixing with the saltwater that stings my eyes. When I finally feel sand beneath my toes, I dig my feet in against the pull of the ocean and haul Chloe into my arms.

I carry her up the beach before collapsing onto my knees with Chloe still in my arms. She coughs violently, expelling water, and I've never been so happy to hear such a terrible sound.

"Jackson?"

I brush her wet hair from her face, my hands shaking. "I'm here, Chloe. I've got you."

Our gazes lock and all the reasons I've been pushing her away seem ridiculous. I nearly lost her. The thought makes my chest constrict painfully.

Without thinking, I pull her closer and press my lips to hers.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chloe

His lips are warm and desperate on mine as though he’s afraid I might vanish under the waves again. The icy sensation releases its grip on me as Jackson's strong arms envelop me, chasing away the chill that had seeped into my bones. I cling to him, my fingers digging into the wet fabric of his shirt, searching for the safety and comfort he provides.

I meet his kiss with equal desperation. Relief that I’m alive, that I’m out of the water merges with an aching need that reminds me I never want to be separated from Jackson again.

My heart continues to pound, and my lungs feel raw. The pull of the waves is long forgotten though.

"Chloe," he mutters briefly, his voice gritty, before his lips come crashing against mine again.

His hands pull me closer, steadier than they have any right to be after what just happened. My chest is pressed against his, and all I feel is him—solid, warm, alive. Jackson’s lips taste like salt and rain, and he tilts his head slightly, deepening the kiss. I forget the rain and the waves and wind. Nothing else matters apart from him.

Jackson.

God, I almost lost him. If he hadn’t been there—if he hadn’t reached out for me when I went under—I wouldn’t be here now. I wouldn’t be feeling this.

He saved me. Again.

I think of all the times Jackson’s been there, steady and sure, while I’ve been falling apart. Brendan breaking up with me. The fake dates to make him jealous. All those moments when I felt like I didn’t know who I was anymore. And then tonight, pulling me from the freezing water like some kind of reckless hero.

Why does he always have to be so…Jackson?

The kiss slows, but he doesn’t let go. His forehead rests against mine, and for the first time since this whole night spiraled out of control, I feel safe.

When the kiss ends, I’m breathless and unsteady. Jackson doesn’t move away, though. He keeps me close, my body tucked against his, the sand soft underneath me. For a moment, neither of us speaks. The storm rages on around us—wind whipping through the trees, waves crashing against the shore—but here, between us, it’s quiet.

I can hear his breathing, rough and uneven, mixing with mine.

"Thank you," I whisper, my voice trembling. "For saving me."

His gaze drops to mine, and he stares at me for several heartbeats, staring at me as though he can’t quite believe I’m here.

He exhales sharply, shaking his head, and his hands tighten slightly on my waist. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Me too," I admit, my throat tightening. "I thought—I thought I wasn’t going to make it."

"Don’t say that." His jaw clenches. "Don’t even think that.”

"Jackson..." I don’t know what to say. What could I possibly say? Thank you feels too small for this.

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