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Panic clawed at my already raw throat and my heart pounded uncontrollably against my chest. I hyper-focused on the search, not caring about anything other than finding what I lost, what I recklessly threw away.
Every solid object my fingertips brushed against was a slimy stone or a sharp rock. The bottom was covered with what seemed like thousands of them. If it wasn’t a rock, my fingers skimmed across sticks or patches of rotting vegetation.
I found nothing smooth and circular. The symbol of infinity. Of forever.
We promised each other just that.
Thomas broke that promise.
Even so, I knew I needed to forgive him or my own “forever” would be stuck in grief. I needed to allow myself to let it go. Last night proved that and had become a turning point.
That didn’t stop me from wanting back the ring Thomas gave me. He slipped it on my finger on our wedding day because he loved me as much as I loved him.
And no matter what he did or why, I still loved him and I would until my own end.
My lungs burned, my eyes were no longer useful. My fear of never finding it drowning me the same as the cloudy lake.
Any tears shed were immediately washed away by the water. But what couldn’t be washed away were my regrets.
My body began to fight me, demanding for me to surface and take a breath. But I couldn’t. I couldn’t stop. Not yet. If I did, I’d lose track of where I’d already searched. I wouldn’t take a breath until I found it.
It had to be here somewhere.
While the natural instinct to survive tricked my brain into thinking I should plant my boots against the bottom and push my way to the surface, my broken heart tried to convince me to simply give up and let the loneliness and excruciating pain be washed away forever.
A war was being waged.
And it didn’t matter whether my heart or my mind won, I’d still be dealing with a loss.
However, my choice was taken from me the second something clamped tightly around my chest, tugging me sideways.
I struggled to escape whatever had a hold of me. The constrictive band around my chest and under my arms tightened even more and I clawed at it, desperate to break its hold.
An arm.
A human arm.
Was I delirious from a lack of oxygen? Was I losing the last thread of my sanity?
When my head broke the surface, I gasped, then coughed out some of the water I had inhaled, but my lungs still fought to pull in my next breath.
I blinked, trying to see who was dragging me from the lake.
Of fucking course.
My lungs gurgled as I barely managed to suck in enough air to talk. “Let… me… go…” My voice had an unnatural rasp to it.
“I’m not letting you go until we’re out of this goddamn water,” he yelled, a mix of fear and anger coloring his tone. Even with my blurry vision, I couldn’t miss the sharpness in his jaw and annoyance in his eyes.
I could fight him, but if I did, I might drown Rett, too. “I can’t get out yet!” Jesus, even my yell sounded like I was still underwater.
“You’re getting out! You’re as cold and stiff as a frozen side of beef.”
I attempted to jerk away and try to break his grip. “I’m not done!”
He didn’t respond or release me until we were both on our knees in the shallow water at the edge, both of us winded, trying to draw in the air our lungs demanded. At this point, I couldn’t tell if it was tears or lake water running in rivulets down my cheeks.
“What the fuck were you doing?”
Oh yes, he was pissed. “I lost… something.”
“In the lake?”
There, too. I nodded because it took too much effort to speak right now. If I forced it, I might break down and sob like a baby.
I didn’t want Rett to see me cry. I didn’t want him to see how desperate and destroyed I was, even though my gut instinct told me he already knew the extent of it.
With no strength left to get to my feet, I remained where I was and only glanced up when I heard, “Take my hand. Let me help you out of there.”
Let me help you...
Unlike me, he now stood on the more solid shoreline with his hand extended. “Take my fucking hand, Chase. I can’t carry you!” he shouted. “You need to help yourself, too. I can’t do it for you. I can only help.”
My first instinct was to tell him I didn’t need his help when that was the farthest from the truth.
I needed help. A lot of it. And for whatever reason, this man was willing to be the one to do so. I just didn’t understand why he’d want that hassle.
