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But just as hope begins to blossom in my chest, a sudden current sweeps us off course, dragging us further away from land. Panic claws at my throat, threatening to undo me, but I grit my teeth and keep swimming. Every muscle in my body screams in protest, but I push through the pain, refusing to let go of the lifeline that Travis represents. Time stretches impossibly thin as we battle against the relentless pull of the ocean, the shore seeming farther and farther away with each passing second. Just when I feel like I can't take another stroke, Travis's voice cuts through the chaos.
"We can make it to that rock formation, it's closer!"
Summoning every last reserve of strength, I fix my gaze on the rocky outcrop ahead, willing my tired limbs to propel me forward. The waves crash over us, threatening to drag us under, but with Travis by my side, I find new determination. Each stroke brings us closer to the jagged rocks, the waves now hurling us towards the unforgiving stone with bone-jarring force.
Travis's arm wraps around my waist as he drags me through the water. The assurance of safety spurring me on. Travis's voice cuts through the roar of the waves, guiding me towards a narrow gap in the rocks where the water is calmer. With a final burst of effort, we reach the relative safety of the rocky enclave, collapsing onto the rough stone with heaving chests and trembling limbs. The adrenaline that had sustained us begins to ebb, leaving us drained and shivering in the aftermath of our ordeal.
"We need to get off the rocks," Travis says. "We're going to get slammed over and over."
I'm so exhausted I don't think I can even move. But Travis is right there once again, pulling me up and leading the way off the rocks and down to the sand. The sand is rough and unforgiving beneath my feet. That's when I realize I've lost my heels. It's such an inconsequential fact, but I'm disappointed. I dismiss the thought immediately. I'm alive. Somehow, I'm alive. My body gave in and I slid onto the sand, littered with sharp little pebbles. I didn't care. I had nothing more to give.
"Are you okay?" Travis's voice is distant. His face is blurry through the haze of shock and pain. I want to nod, to reassure him that I'm fine, but the words stick in my throat. I'm not fine. I turn and vomit the seawater I had taken in during the treacherous swim to shore.
Travis's hand rubs up and down my back. "It's okay," he soothes. "Just take a few deep breaths. You're in shock."
The world around me felt like a distant dream, the events blurring together into a chaotic whirlwind of fear and desperation. Travis's voice was a lifeline in the haze of my exhaustion, grounding me in the reality of our survival. As the adrenaline slowly drained from my system, leaving behind only a bone-deep weariness, I became acutely aware of every ache and pain that radiated through my battered body.
I managed to nod weakly, acknowledging Travis's words as I focused on regulating my breathing. The taste of salt lingered in my mouth.
"I want you to lie back," Travis says, his voice calm. "I'm going to get a rock for you to put your feet up on. It's all I can do for now."
A moment later, he's lifting my legs. I don't care that I'm in a skirt. I lie in silence, remembering how to breathe. Eventually, my heart rate slows, and the initial fear subsides just enough for my brain to begin to function. I open my eyes and see Travis sitting beside me, one knee bent as he stares out at the ocean.
Blood trickles down the side of his face. "You're bleeding," I say.
He reaches up and touches the cut on his forehead. "It's not bad. It'll stop eventually."
I slowly sit up, my head spinning just a little. "Are you hurt?" I ask him.
"Nah, you?"
"I honestly don't know," I answer. "I hurt everywhere."
"We hit pretty hard," he acknowledges.
"But we made it," I add, the realization sinking in.
Travis's gaze meets mine, a silent understanding passing between us. We had faced death head-on and emerged on the other side, forever changed by the harrowing experience. But there was no time to dwell on the what-ifs or the could-have-beens. We had to focus on the present, on surviving.
I look down at my feet. "I lost my shoes."
He offers a half smile, the dimple appearing. "I'm afraid so."
I look down. "But I have my purse."
He smiles again. "That's something."
He turns his attention back to the water. I follow his gaze and see one of the wings of the jet sticking out of the water. It's not as far off the shore as it felt like when we were trying to make it out of the water.
"I think it's stuck on some rocks," he says.
I'm not sure why that matters. I simply nod in agreement.
Chapter 6
Travis
I stare at the wreckage of the Learjet, half submerged in the water, disbelief coursing through my veins like a current. We survived. Against all odds, we survived. But the shock of our near-death experience still reverberates through me, leaving me shaken to the core. My heart rate started to slow as the adrenaline subsided. My head hurts. I feel some aches and pains, but nothing is broken.
