For a split second, I saw Dante’s face—wide-eyed, mouth open like he was about to warn me—and then there was only the shock of water, upheaval, and the sky vanishing above.
The cold hit me so hard my whole body convulsed. Water forced its way into my nose, my mouth. I kicked out, but my jeans and sweater tangled around my legs, anchoring me.
I felt the bottom of the canoe scrape my shoulder as I went under, thrashing, the world gone green-black and silent.
It was only a few seconds, but in that time I was sure I was going to die. The panic that had been a low static in my chest erupted, full force, into white noise.
I couldn’t tell which way was up, and the more I fought, the more the water seemed to pull at me. My lungs burned. My limbs went weak.
Strong arms closed around me. My face broke the surface, retching lake water and cold air in equal measure. Dante hauled me half into the canoe, his hands locked under my armpits, his shout thin and desperate.
For a moment, I hung suspended there, my head flung back, hair streaming brine and snot, the sky bleaching out everything but the sound of my own gasping.
I vomited once, then again, water and shame in equal parts. Dante gripped my shoulders, his words a jumble of “You’re okay, you’re okay, you’re okay,” but I heard nothing past the drumbeat in my skull. I clawed at the side of the canoe, nails raking the fiberglass, trying to hoist myself up, but my arms felt boneless, useless.
He wrangled me over the edge, collapsing both of us in a heap that nearly upended the boat for good. I laid on my back, shuddering, the world spinning too fast to focus.
Above me, Dante’s face was a mask of panic and relief, his mouth moving without making sense.
“Stay with me,” Dante said, slapping my cheek lightly. “You’re okay.”
I nodded, though my vision blurred in and out.
We drifted toward the dock in a limp spiral, water pooling around my hips and freezing me to the bone. Dante kept one steady arm hooked around my ribcage, all business now, the set of his jaw focused and scared.
I stared at the sky—blue and blank and infinite—and tried not to think about how close I’d come to slipping back under.
The canoe ground up against the dock, a scraping, helpless sound. I didn’t move. I couldn’t. Dante heaved himself out first, feet squelching in the cold sand, then turned and pulled me upright.
My arms and legs moved like someone else’s, boneless and shaking. Together, we half rolled, half crawled onto the splintered planks, me gasping and retching and him saying my name.
Suddenly, Caiden was there. I don’t know when he appeared, but he knelt in front of me, his eyes so wide the whites shone, his hands trembling as he tried to peel Dante’s arm from my shoulder.
“Get the fuck off her,” Caiden snapped, shoving Dante back with a force that surprised all of us.
Dante staggered. “I was helping her, she fell in?—”
“She doesn’t need your help!” Caiden’s voice came out raw, strangled, like he’d torn a strip of himself to say it. He snatched my hands in his and pressed them to his chest, as if trying to restart my heart through sheer will.
His skin was fever-hot, every muscle rigid and trembling. “Amelia, I told you not to fucking do that.”
Dante, catching his balance, went defensive. “I had her. It was fine, then she freaked, man! I pulled her out?—”
“Yeah, you pulled her out after you almost killed her!” Caiden yelled, his panicked voice slicing the air. He dropped to his knees beside me, yanking off his hoodie and wrapping it around my shoulders, rough but careful, like he was afraid I’d shatter if he was too gentle. “Jesus, Amelia, what were you thinking?”
I couldn’t answer. I was shivering too hard, my jaw locked, and my tongue numb. Instead, I let him pull me into his dry chest.
He held me so tightly I could feel his own pulse, a frantic drum, matching the panic still ringing in my veins.
Dante hovered, arms out, uncertain and seething. “She’s going to go into shock, you idiot. We need to get her inside. She needs dry clothes. Amelia, can you hear me?”
I weakly lifted my head. Caiden’s hand locked around the back of my skull, gentle but immovable. I wanted to say ‘thank you,’ but my teeth were clacking and the words just tangled up in my throat.
He muttered, “You’re okay, I got you, I’m not letting go.” I believed him. I hated myself for believing, but I did.
“Come on,” Dante said, voice flat. “Get her up. She can’t sit out here all day, or she’ll seize up.”
Caiden ignored him for a second longer, heat radiating off his skin like anger. When he finally did stand, he picked me up as if I weighed nothing, and stomped past Dante, who trailed behind, muttering curses under his breath.
