“We can’t leave Bear,” she protests, hugging the dog even tighter in her arms.
“The guys are already at the new house. We have to stop by. Bear will be okay for a few hours alone.”
She gets up, heads for the kitchen to fill a bowl of water, and guides the dog there, before finally being ready to get out of the house.
Fifteen minutes later, and we’re at the new property we acquired, so we can get rid of the rental house, since the new one is much closer to where the guys are every night—meaning with Summer and me.
“Merry Christmas, Principessa! Welcome to our new crib,” Connor shouts as soon as we’ve crossed the threshold.
Summer hugs him, returning the greeting, and there’s a sparkling childlike excitement in her voice when she spills the beans about the dog. He knew, of course. All of them did. After all, judging by my friends’ diurnal presence at our place, the dog will be theirs too.
Carter and Dean join in, and Link is on a video call, while Summer goes along with Connor to check out the yard and the heated pool outside.
Leaving my keys on the kitchen counter, I follow them when Carter picks up a ball and throws it at Connor. It heads for Summer instead. Connor reaches out to deflect it and protect her, but that leaves her off balance, sending my girlfriend into the pool.
I’ve never counted my steps before like I count my strides now before I dive in after her. There’s no way she can’t swim, but the urge to check she’s okay takes over my actions.
I’m sure when in the old days the legends of the mesmerizing mermaids were born, someone saw a semblance of what I’m seeing. It’s like fire underwater around her beautiful face, while her dress dances freely about her. Magical!
But she’s staring up, unmoving, breathless, like frozen in time. My first thought is that she’s playing tricks on me. Locking my lips on hers, I try to make her kiss me back, but she doesn’t move a muscle, eyes empty, locked on the surface.
Then it hits me.
Something’s wrong.
Grabbing her in my arms, I swim up. Dean helps me take her out of the water and place her on the ground. But she doesn’t cough out, doesn’t say a word, her stare—devoid of life, catatonic.
Cupping her face, I force her gaze to settle on me, but it’s past me she sees, not even registering my presence.
“Summer, what’s wrong?” I shake her, but no reaction whatsoever comes from her.
“What did you do to her?” Dean barks, kneeling and reaching for her face.
“Don’t you fuckin’ touch her!” I shout, pushing him away from Summer.
Dean falls to the ground, staying there for a moment before scurrying to grab her wrist, feeling her pulse. I ignore him when my attention shifts back to my girlfriend’s face, blank and unresponsive, absent of anything I can reach. My blood turns into liquid helium, freezing my bones, ready to shatter, feeling helpless, looking at her like this.
“Come back to me!” I plead. I beg.
Carter comes with a blanket, and I grab it from his hands, wrapping her in it, my arms on top, holding her so tight I might crush her. I’ve never had my heart beat so painfully fast with fear and panic, not knowing what I can do to help.
“You’re okay. You’re okay, honey. Fuck! Come back! I’ve got you. You’re safe.” I keep saying those words in her ear, as an anchor for her, and a minute or so later, her hands glide on my back.
I pull back, witnessing a single tear escaping her eye—more fear in there than I’ve ever thought she could hold. Hell, I’ve never, sofar, seen her afraid of anything.
“You’re safe.” My hand caresses her cheek, and she leans into my touch. “You’re okay?”
Summer offers a silent nod before her eyes find the guys around us. My focus follows hers, seeing the worry etched deep on my friends’ faces.
“Let’s get you inside,” I say, taking her in my arms and carrying her into the living room. Sitting on the couch, I cradle her against my chest, holding on tight.
“I’ll get more towels,” Carter says, turning to leave, when her voice follows him, making him halt in his tracks.
“I owe you an explanation, don’t I?”
I wish I could tell her she owes nobody anything, but not knowing what happened back there, or how to help her—it killed me. I don’t care if she tells the guys what happened. She owes it to me to put all the cards on the table. Her fears should be mine so I can protect her. Before I can say anything, she’s already lowering that wall of hers, revealing another piece of her story.
“I drowned when I was eleven,” Summer says in a whisper. But the room is silent enough for those words to be heard like a scream. She picks at a loose thread on the blanket, pulling it slowly, unraveling it bit by bit.
