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Neri didn’t reply with her usual snark.
Instead, her spine stiffened; she leaned closer to the water. “Is that...? Oh my God!” In a flurry of speed, she kicked off her sandals, ripped off her hat, and shimmied out of her calico sundress, revealing a yellow one-piece.
I jerked upright. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“It’s a broken net. There’s a turtle...see.” She pointed wildly at the water where the sun spangled on the surface, blinding me.
“It’s dying.” Grabbing the railing, she climbed to the top rung and leapt off, executing a perfect swan dive and vanishing into the blue.
“Neri!” I bent in half over the rail, watching her watery form kicking fast, vanishing the deeper she swam. “Nerida!” I punched the side of the boat, hoping the thumps would be heard underwater.
But she didn’t stop swimming, and she didn’t return.
A flurry of bubbles erupted on the surface.
Shit.
My knuckles whitened as I glowered at where she’d disappeared.
This wasn’t new.
She often leapt overboard if the dolphins came to visit. She’d given me a heart attack when she went swimming with a fever of stingrays (learned that word thanks to my new profession). Yet each time, it never got easier. Each time she disappeared for minutes on end. My chest would tighten and my bones would crack, desperate for her to breach the surface and return.
Tearing the cap off my head, I raked both hands through my hair. I paced as I always did, waiting for her to come back and breathe.
My eyes strayed to the clock.
I started counting.
Two years had proven that the Taylors were freaks when it came to holding their breaths. Neri regularly went five minutes as if it was thirty seconds to her. She’d even pushed it to six in the swimming pool, laying like a starfish on the bottom and forcing me to time her.
But out here?
On the open water?
Dealing with swells and dangers?
The clock’s hand completed a circle.
One minute.
My feet thudded on the deck as I paced faster. I locked my gaze on the ocean, begging to see the shimmery image of her swimming back to me.
Two minutes.
Fuck, Neri...
I balled my hands and forced myself to stop pacing.
She’s fine.
She does this all the time.
She’s not Melike.
There is no storm.
Three minutes.
