Icy water dripped from Alejandra's body as she belly-flopped onto the board. She tried to save her left shoulder from too much work, but paddling with one arm was almost useless since she couldn’t find that freaking paddle around. She pushed the pain away and relied on her muscle memory, years of training, and the rush of adrenaline, until taid finally came into view. He was trying to grip the edge of the dock, slipping again.
“Taid!” she called. “Hold onto the board! I’m right here!”
He flailed toward her, nearly capsizing them both. She grabbed his face.
“Hey! Listen to me!” she barked. “You have to calm the fuck down, old man. ¿Entendido? You hear me? Grip the fucking board. Don’t flip me.”
His gaze focused. A moment of recognition flickered. A smile bloomed.
“Teresa… you came.”
“Yes,” she lied. “Now hold on, and let’s get to those stairs.”
He listened.Por díos. She paddled hard, shoulder screaming. But he held on. The harbor blocked the worst of the surf, and she forced them forward.
Voices. Flashlights.
“Callum!” she shouted. “Here!”
She reached the stone steps as he, Rhiannon and Eira ran down. Callum's eyes went wide, taking it in—the paddleboard, his soaking taid, and Alejandra paddling them in with trembling arms.
“What the actual fuck, Alejandra?” he shouted, panicked. “Your shoulder—”
“Yourgrandfather,” she snapped, guiding the board into the stairs. “He was drowning. I had to.”
Callum and the others pulled taid up, the man surprisingly docile now, murmuring something about Teresa and knitting by the beach.
Alejandra lay back on the wet dock, face to the sky, her body heaving. Core aching. Shoulder shot. She was done. Out. Her fingers curled, as her body vibrated with post-rescue adrenaline.
Two strong arms lifted her, bridal-style. She winced but didn’t resist.
Callum wrapped her in his coat. “Cariad…” voice tight with worry. “Your shoulder.”
“I’ll survive,” she mumbled, exhausted. “He needed help. I couldn’t just let him drown.”
“You’re crazy,” he whispered, holding her tighter.
“Believe me, I know.”
Rhiannon and Eira were helping taid up the stairs, calm now as if nothing had happened.
“Thank you,” Callum whispered into her hair. “You saved his life.”
“Superhero routine,” she muttered. “All in a day’s work.”
“You need a hospital.”
“Just dry clothes, ice, and a bucket of ibuprofen.” She smirked.
His eyes were still wide with fear. Guilt. Awe.
“You dove into storm water, at midnight, in the rain.”
“It’s a harbor. It’s not that wild…I guess…” she looked out at the ocean. “But yeah, I did it.” She glanced at the paddleboard. “Also, I stole that from someone. We should return it.”
Callum chuckled into her hair, still holding her. Still shaking.
“You’re absolutely insane,” he said.
