Page 53 of Until We Come Home

I take the first leg. Lark blows the whistle and I’m off the dock and in, the shock of the cold water cutting through my frustration, slicing through the surface and kicking hard toward the buoy with the tube hooked under one arm, trying to keep my eyes on the line. I round it a body length ahead of Jack and come pounding back, slap the ladder, and Mia’s already in the air over my head.

She moves through the water with effortless grace, gliding as smoothly as she does on a dance floor, looking like a natural in the lake, and she hands Derek a lead you could drive a truck through. Derek, on the other hand, flails and thrashes his way out and back and gives the whole thing away before he’s even reached the buoy.

Fucking idiot.

By the second round, Mia and I are running our legs like a well-oiled machine, doing everything we can to build Derek a cushion big enough that he can’t blow it. I’m not usually the competitive type with this kind of stuff. It’s pretty low stress compared to my day job, but today it might as well be the Olympics for how seriously I’m taking it.

It’s like some caveman part of my brain thinks Mia might choose whoever gets around the buoy fastest. Pathetic.

“Go, go, go!” Mia shouts, hauling herself up the ladder as I dive off the dock over her. I hit the water kicking with everything I’ve got and barely edge out Alex at the turn, who comes up behind me and is now laughing at the absolute chaos of it all.

Derek claps on the dock. “Come on, Mateo! Dig deep! Bring it home!”

Give me a fucking break.

Third round, and it’s the championship leg, which means the course doubles. Out past the near buoy to the far one, the orange marker way out where the shallows end and the lake drops off into real depth, and back.

Derek insists on taking it, trying to prove he’s not a complete liability. Off the dock he goes, flailing down the lane, racing Emma, who is a solid swimmer and pulls away from him almost immediately, further out toward the far buoy where the water turns dark and the bottom’s long gone.

Mia and I stand at the end of the dock watching, her dripping beside me in a green bikini that I’m trying very hard not to look at. It’s got little gold clasps on the hips, and with how tan she’s gotten this summer, it’s just not a fair fight.

I look back at Derek, who is already falling behind. Emma’s rounded the buoy and is heading back, but Derek is floundering again, out past it where the bottom’s gone. He loses the tube and grabs for it, and it skates away from him on the breeze, and he stops.

Why the hell isn’t he moving?

Then I realize he’s struggling, head tipping back, arms slapping at the surface instead of pulling, and his face dips under for a second. That’s the thing nobody tells you about drowning. It doesn’t look like the movies. It’s quiet, and it’s fast, and it looks like a guy who’s just a little tired. Mia sees it the same moment I do, and her hand lands on my arm.

“Oh my God, he’s going under!” she gasps, her voice laced with panic.

You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.

“I see him,” I say, and dive off the end of the dock, cutting straight out through the cold water toward him.

Emma has seen the trouble too and is already turning in the water to swim back and help him, but I wave her off before she can get there.

“Head for the dock, Emma!” I shout over the splashes. “I’ve got him!”

She nods, red hair plastered to her face, and turns back toward the dock while I close the gap to Derek, who is flailing wildly.

Emma’s a strong swimmer, but a drowning person in full-blown panic will instinctually grab whatever’s close, dragging anyone nearby straight under with them. The last thing I need is him climbing on Emma and taking her under too and having two people to pull out instead of one.

I finally reach Derek, his head tipped back and his mouth barely clearing the water. I grab a fistful of his shirt, and he immediately latches on, trying to haul himself over my shoulders and dunking me beneath the surface. I kick out hard, slip behind him, and lock my arm across his chest so he can’t get turned around on me.

“Derek!” I bark, right in his ear. “I’ve got you. Stop fighting, you need to try and stay calm. I’m not going to let you drown.”

The deep water’s all around us, and he gasps and nods frantically, only slightly loosening his death grip on my forearm, and I roll him onto his back and start the long, slow strokes toward the dock with his head on my shoulder and his chin above the water. Everyone’s crowded at the end of it now, Mia out in front with her hands pressed to her mouth, Jack and Alex kneeling near the ladder to pull us out.

We get to the dock and I push him up the ladder as Jack and Alex help haul him up, and he slumps down on the dock gasping and coughing, everyone backing up to give him room. I climb up after him and crouch down in front of him to give him at least a basic once-over.

“Hey,” I say. “Derek. Look at me. You breathing okay? Did you get any water in?”

He nods, coughing and visibly shaken. “A little. I’m okay. I... I’m sorry. I just got, like, a cramp, and I lost the tube, and I panicked when I realized how deep it was out there.”

“Okay. That’s understandable. Happens to strong swimmers too.” I watch his chest for a few breaths. “You’re okay. Just sit for a minute. And maybe steer clear of the water without a life jacket from now on.”

“Yeah,” he mutters, looking down at the wet wood. “Point taken. Thanks, Mateo.”

I can tell it stings his pride to admit it, and I give him a brief nod. More of the family drifts over from the picnic tables to see what happened. Mia drops onto her knees beside him, hovering close, her hand resting on his back as she fusses over him.