Page 91 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart
Adam’s already got his flip-flops and shirt off, practically shaking with the need to launch himself after our brother. I can read the calculations in his head.If I dive now, will I catch him before he gets too far? If I miss, does he drown?
Jameson doesn’t hesitate, though. He hooks the life ring over his shoulder, backs up a few feet, and in one perfect, athletic motion, runs for the rail and leaps. For a split second, he’s silhouetted against the sky, arms outstretched. Then, he plunges into the lake with such force that we all wince.
The life ring follows, dangling from its tether as Jameson surfaces, shakes water from his eyes, and immediately powers after Robbie with deep, confident strokes.
Robbie’s still going, but when he hears the second splash, he glances over his shoulder. His face is a mask of panic and determination, mouth working as he sucks in desperate breaths, but his strokes are getting ragged. He’s not trained for this. He’s always been faster than me in a pool, but I know open water is a different monster.
Jameson closes the gap with terrifying speed. “Robbie!” he calls, but Robbie swims harder, legs and arms churning in a frantic rhythm.
I want to scream at him to stop, to grab the ring, but my mouth is stuck open and nothing comes out.
Jameson finally catches up, grabs Robbie around the waist, and they both disappear in a mess of flailing limbs and water. For an awful second, neither comes up. My lungs seize, and my heart stops beating. Black spots dance before my eyes.
Then two heads break the surface, gasping for air. Jameson has the ring under Robbie’s arm, pinning him in place, and he shouts something I can’t hear—the wind’s picked up, drowning out everything except the slap of water. Something in his words must break through Robbie’s anger because he stops fighting.
Jameson brings them back to the boat several minutes later. Dad and Damien have the ladder down, and together, they haul both boys up. First Robbie, who won’t meet anyone’s eyes, then Jameson. They’re both soaked and shivering despite the heat.
“Robbie. Downstairs. Now.” Dad’s voice carries that particular tone that used to send us running as kids. His hand clamps onto Robbie’s shoulder, steering him toward the cabin. “We’re going to have a conversation about decision-making and nearly giving your old man a heart attack.”
They disappear below deck. The walls are too thick to make out words, but Dad’s raised voice carries up through the floorboards. Then Robbie’s, equally as loud.
Damien wraps towels around Jameson, who’s still dripping on the deck. “That was brave. Stupid, but brave.”
“Someone had to go after him.” Jameson’s teeth chatter slightly. His eyes find mine. “He’s hurting. People do dumb things when they’re hurting.”
My throat is too tight to speak. This boy—this beautiful, brave boy—jumped into the ocean for my brother. For my family. “Thank you,” I say.
He gives me a small smile. “You’re welcome.”
Rita hasn’t moved. She’s still staring at the spot where Robbie went under. More tears track silently down her cheeks. I wrap an arm around her.
“He didn’t mean it,” I tell her. “About not dating you. He’s?—”
“I know.” Her voice is tiny.
“We all made mistakes,” Adam says quietly. “But I made the biggest one. This is on me.”
The boat rocks gently, the depressing atmosphere stretching out until we’re suffocating in it. Matthew and Tyler have retreated to the far end of the deck, clearly wishing they were anywhere else. And Ethan’s gone uncharacteristically quiet.
“I’m going to check on them,” I say, needing to do something, anything.
But Adam stops me with a hand on my arm. “Let Dad handle it. That’s what he does best—knocks sense into us when we’re being idiots.”
He’s right. Still, every muffled shout from below makes me flinch. Robbie’s hurting, and we’re the ones who caused it. All of us, with our secrets and good intentions that turned out to be not so good after all.
Jameson shivers beside me, and I grab another towel from the stack Damien brought. As I wrap it around his shoulders, our eyes meet.
“We never finished our conversation,” he says softly.
A slightly hysterical laugh escapes me. “I think that’s the least of our problems right now.”
“Maybe. But still.” He catches my hand under the towel, hidden from view. “I want to be your boyfriend, Kevin.”
Suddenly, the only thing that exists is Jameson’s wet hand on mine. His words hang in the air, impossibly steady against the turbulence of the afternoon.I want to be your boyfriend, Kevin.
How is it possible for my heart to leap while the rest of my body wants to curl into itself and disappear? Jameson’s thumb rubs slow circles against my knuckles, and the safety in that touch makes me realize that I should be happy. I should be floating. This is the moment I’ve played out in a thousand imaginary rehearsals, the one where the dream boy picks me in front of everyone.
But none of those rehearsals ever happened in the middle of a disaster. None of them started with my brother trying to swim away from our family. None of them ended with every person I care about broken in different ways.
