Page 50 of The Pretenders of Copper County
“Zach,” Chris said sadly, like he was the kid’s long-suffering parent and not someone who’d known him for… what, an hour? “Are you the one who spray-painted that stuff on one of the cabins here?”
Zach’s boredom evaporated, and his voice shook with anger. “Fuck off, Derry. Keep your mouth shut.”
“Don’t get pissy with me,” Mini-Watt said. “Just stating facts.”
“Well, nobody asked you to sharemyfacts, asshole,” Zach shouted.
“Calm down,” Chris said. “Hey, no pushing!”
This time when I heard the splash, I grinned. I wasn’t sure which of the boys had ended up in the water, and I didn’t care. I hoped it was both of them.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” one of the girls—possibly Mary-Kate—yelled.
“I… I didn’t do anything.” Zach’s anger fled as quickly as his boredom had, and he sounded young and unsure. “I pushed Derry.”
“Except you missed, dumbass,” Mini-Watt said. “Shit. Where’d he go?”
Frowning, I peered around the tree. Counted heads. And realized that one adorable charcuterie specialist was missing.
Literally the damn minute my back was turned.
My vision narrowed, and my chest clenched tight.
“It wasn’t my fault,” Zach said, even as he toed off his shoes and tore off his shirt. “Mr. Sunday? Chris?”
I was halfway down the dock before Zach jumped, and after leaping over the girls and their towels, I hit the water the instant after he did.
The shock of brutal cold made my muscles seize and my lungs burn. I forced my eyes open, but the water that hadlooked so clear from above was murky down below. I’d known it was deep, but now I saw that it wasunnaturallyso, almost like someone had purposely dug it out to make the area safe for diving… which also made it seriously fuckingunsafe for someone who might at this very moment be drowning.
Christ, where was he?
Through the thin light filtering down from above, I made out vague, blurry shapes on the lake bed, none of which looked remotely like the man who’d turned my life on its head in the span of five short days.
A tire. A sunken rowboat. A small something that glinted like a pair of glasses?—
Narrowing my eyes on the place where I’d seen the glint, I kicked hard, pushing myself through the water. I quickly saw that the glasses were still attached to one gorgeous and very frightened man. I reached for him, pulled him close, and propelled us upward.
As we broke the surface, I sucked in a huge, coughing breath and heard Chris do the same.
“Mr. Sunday? Is h-he okay?” Zach demanded. He was still bobbing in the water, though his teeth chattered.
“He will be,” I said grimly.
I swam us to the shore, bypassing the dock entirely, and laid Chris on his side on the stony beach. “Talk to me,” I commanded. “Tell me you’re okay. Baby, please.”
“S-so b-b-bossy,” Chris complained softly, and I nearly sobbed from the relief of it. “I’m f-fine. Just a b-bit… c-cold?” A head-to-toe shiver racked his body. “H-how am I th-this cold, Reed?”
“Mr. Sunday?” Derry called. “You want me to call an ambulance? Or go get my dad?”
“No,” I snapped. But because I knew Chris wouldcomplain at me about it later, I added in a kinder tone, “Chris will be okay. I’ll make sure of it. But thanks for asking. And thanks for going in after him,” I told Zach, who’d managed to haul himself onto the dock and was being aggressively wrapped in beach towels by three sets of hands.
I locked eyes with Mini-Watt. “Get him someplace warm and make sure he’s okay.”
Then I hauled Chris’s shivering body into my arms and took the path back to the caretaker cottage at a dead run. Later, I wouldn’t recall how I managed to get the door open without setting Chris down or how I managed to extricate him from his clothes while he clung to me, shivering, but somehow I did. I turned on the shower one-handed and, still fully dressed, hauled him with me under the spray.
Chris moaned when the warm water hit him and uncurled like a plant blossoming in the sun.
I pressed my forehead against his. “Thank fuck,” I breathed. “Thank fuck.”
