Page 55 of Hand Picked
“Holy shoot,” he whispered. “I’m doing it. I’m really doing it.”
“You’re doing it,” I agreed, my chest squeezing with pride and happiness and other things that made my stomach fucking tremble like I was a teenager, not a grown man who knew better.
Like I didn’t know that stomach trembling was likely to end in life-shattering disaster.
Like I didn’t know that there was no such thing as a happily ever after in real life.
“Let me see if I can do the push-off part.”
“Yeah,” I said hoarsely. “Do it.”
Luke pushed off and kept going—one foot and then the other, keeping his weight over his heels exactly like I’d taught him.
“Holy smokes! Webb! Look! I… Oh, shoot!”
The moment Luke went down was one of the scariest moments I’d ever experienced that didn’t involve Aiden. His skate caught in a divot in the ice, and I winced as he fell forward onto his hands and knees, thinking he was gonna bruise. I’d already started skating in his direction to help him up when the ice made a booming, cracking noise… and Luke disappeared into the icy water with a splash.
Holy fucking shit.
My brothers and I had skated out here all the time as kids, and I knew there was no such thing as total safety, no matter how cautious you tried to be. Back when I was a kid, Reed and one of his friends had fallen in, and after my dad had dragged them out, he’d insisted that we all learn basic ice lifesaving techniques. I’d made sure my younger brothers had learned it, too.
But I’d be damned if I could recall any of that knowledge in the moment. My vision flickered at the corners, my heart pounded in my throat, and though I was skating fast, I felt like I was moving through concrete.
Luke’s head popped up, and he gasped in a breath.
Thank fuck he wasn’t trapped beneath the surface.
Somewhere behind me, the kids began screaming.
“Call for help,” I yelled over my shoulder at Mark. “And keep them back!”
I didn’t turn my head to see if he obeyed. My entire focus was on the man in front of me.
I dropped to my knees several feet away from the hole where Luke had disappeared and laid out flat. “Luke,” I called as calmly as I could. “I’m right here. I’m gonna get you out.”
“W-webb,” Luke managed to get out. “Oh, f-f-f-fudge, it’s cold.”
“I know. I know it is. But listen to me. Control your breathing as much as you can, okay? Focus on your breathing.”
“Y-yeah.”
“Now lay out flat. Stretch your arms toward me. No! No, no. Don’t try to lift out. Just stretch out your arms like you’re swimming. Yeah, good! Now kick your feet and wiggle. Kick and wiggle. Yes. Yes! Yes. That’s it. You’re doing it.”
Thank fuck, thank fuck, thank fuck.
“Just a little more. A little closer,” I coaxed. “Small movements.”
The second he was in grabbing distance, I grasped his hands and pulled him toward me while wriggling backward myself. When we’d gotten a good distance away, I pulled his soaking, shivering form against me and held him there tightly, needing to convince myself he was really okay.
“Don’t try to stand up,” I warned. “We’re gonna roll, okay? I’ve got you, and you’re doing so good, baby.” I rolled us until we were within a few feet of the shore. “Okay. Okay, now I think we can try to stand. Let me help you.”
Luke nodded, his teeth chattering, and let me pull him to stand up. With an arm around his waist, I half carried him to the shore where the kids were waiting.
“Mr. Williams!” a little girl shouted, clearly concerned. “Are you okay?”
Luke managed to lift a hand and give an approximation of a smile. “F-f-f-f—” he started to say.
“He’s gonna be fine,” I interpreted. “He did exactly the right things: he listened to me, and he stayed calm. So now we just need to get him warm.”
