9. Archer
Chapter 9
Archer
T he sand is still warm under my feet as I stand there, boots in hand, staring out at the crashing waves. I just dropped Luke off at his place, making sure he got home okay after what felt like the longest deployment of my life.
He’s family, in his own way, and I’d never forgive myself if something happened to him without me checking in first.
But now, the weight of my own leave is finally sinking in, and the idea of returning home to my mom and dad is a relief. My body’s still sore, my mind still racing with everything we have seen and done.
I need to clear my head before heading home. States away. Far enough to leave it all behind for a while.
The air smells like salt and peace, but it’s not enough. I keep walking along the edge of the beach, the waves lapping at my bare feet, when I notice something.
A figure at the cliff’s edge.
I stop, squinting to try to make out the figure clearer in the dark. At first, I think it’s nothing. Someone just enjoying the view, but then they do something I’m not prepared for.
They step back. One, two, three steps, and then they jump.
My heart slams into my throat, panic rushing through me as their body plummets toward the water. It’s like time freezes, and for a moment, I’m standing there, useless, not sure what to do.
They hit the water with a sickening splash.
I wait a beat.
One.
They don’t surface.
Two.
Did they want to do this?
Three.
I’m running.
My feet are pounding against the sand as I rush to the edge of the cliff, scanning the water for any signs of them.
It’s dark and deep, and the waves are violent, but I won’t watch someone else die. I can’t.
I strip off my shirt, not caring that the cold air bites at my skin as I dive into the churning water below. The shock of the cold hits me hard, but I force myself to focus.
I scan the water, searching.
Please, please, please.
There.
I dive again, my lungs burning as I fight the current, my eyes fixed on the shadowy figure beneath the surface.
I don’t even think about the risk. I’m just reaching, my hands grasping her as I pull her up, gasping for air as I swim toward the shore, fighting the current that’s desperately trying to pull me back out.
She’s limp in my arms, her body like dead weight. I drag her to the beach, my heart racing. Adrenaline kicks in as I flip her over, praying she’s still alive.
Pressing my cheek against her mouth, I hold my breath as I wait for the warm puff of air against my skin and the rise of her chest. Nothing.
I start chest compressions, desperate to revive the girl. I keep going, pushing the air back into her lungs as I press my lips to hers and blow, hoping, praying it’s not too late for her.
My hands move mechanically, but my mind is screaming.
Please don’t be gone.
I’m soaked and exhausted, and my heart is pounding in my chest, but I don’t stop. Not until I feel her body twitch under my hands, a small, shaky breath pulling in.
Her eyes flicker open, and I’m hit with a rush of relief that I wasn’t prepared for. Brown eyes meet mine, wide with fear.
So much fear .
She coughs, her body expelling the water she inhaled as she curls into herself in my arms. I hold her until she’s done, not wanting to let her go.
I don’t know why she jumped. I don’t know what brought her here, to the edge, to the point of no return. But I’m here now. And I’m not letting her slip away.
“Hey,” I whisper, trying to sound calm like I’m not shaken to my core. “You’re okay. You’re okay now.”
She doesn’t say anything. Just stares at me, her chest rising and falling with shallow breaths. Her brown hair is matted against her face, and she looks small and fragile in my arms.
She shakily lifts her arms, her fingers trembling. “Why did you save me?” she signs. “I wanted to die.”
I freeze. The weight of her words hits me harder than the crash of the waves behind us.
“I’m not letting you die,” I say, my voice firm now, even if I’m still trying to wrap my head around the girl in my arms who’s staring at me with wide, haunted eyes. “You’re safe.”
She shakes her head, pupils blown. “I’m never safe.” She gestures.
“Then I’ll protect you.”
My words linger in the air as silence stretches between us. I want to somehow convince her that everything will be okay and that things will get better. But I don’t know what she’s been through. I don’t know what’s made her feel like she has no way out, like there’s nothing left but to end it all.
She’s trembling in my arms, and I can feel the cold seep into my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the coldness I can sense in her. The weight of her despair wraps around us both, and I can’t shake it.
The fear in her brown eyes — it’s a look I’ve seen before in the eyes of men I’ve served with, people who’ve been pushed to their limit. But she’s not a soldier.
She shouldn’t be carrying the weight of the world on her shoulders.
I should say something comforting, but the words don’t come. I just keep holding her, letting her breathing steady and the hammering of my heart in my chest calm as I silently pray she’s not about to slip away again.
Her fingers twitch against my arm, and I know she’s still there.
“You’re safe now,” I repeat, more for myself than for her.
She pulls back slightly, looking at me like she’s trying to piece together something in her mind. The water still drips from her hair, making her look even smaller than she is.
Her body is frail and thin in my arms. Too thin .
I want to fix it. Fix her — fix everything if it meant the haunted look in her eyes would go away.
“I’ll never be safe,” she signs, her hands moving in front of her.
“Why?” I ask her, my voice breaking at the look of pain that flashes across her face.
She looks toward the water where a bag lies on the sand, waves lapping at it. She pushes off my lap, crawling toward what I assume is her bag, and curls her fingers around the strap.
I push myself to stand, following her. “Here, let me help.” I take the bag from her trembling fingers, pull it over my shoulder, and lift her into my arms.
I carry her back to my truck, placing her in the passenger seat gently so I don’t hurt her, and rush to the driver’s seat. Blasting the hot air to warm us both, I pull her closer to me, wrapping my arms around her to try to stop her trembling.
The warmth of the truck surrounds us, but it doesn’t seem to reach her. Her body is still shaking, her skin cold to the touch, despite the heat blasting from the vents. I pull her closer, not knowing what else to do, just trying to give the girl in my arms with the haunted eyes something. Anything.
Her head rests against my chest, her breathing still shallow and uneven.
“Why aren’t you safe?” I ask again.
She doesn’t respond right away. Her fingers twitch again, and she lets out a quiet, shaky sigh. I can feel it in my own chest, that deep, heavy kind of exhaustion that I can’t explain. Like something inside of you has been torn apart until there’s nothing left but shreds of who you once were, and now there’s just a void.
I swallow hard, my throat tight with emotion I didn’t expect. I’ve seen the hell people go through, the things they’ve been forced to endure. But this... this is something else. It’s a pain I can’t even begin to comprehend.
“I want to help...” I start, but the words feel hollow and inadequate. “I can help. My family... well, they have the resources and means to get you out of whatever is haunting you. I just need to understand why you don’t feel safe. And whatever it is, I’ll protect you. With everything I’ve got. I swear on my life.”
Her fingers begin to move, and she tells me everything that’s happened. I can tell she’s leaving parts out by the way she pauses, the slight wrinkle in her forehead appearing as if it physically pains her to think of it.
She finishes, looking at me with wide eyes, and I swear to protect her no matter what it costs me.
“How do you know what I’m saying?” she signs, and I chuckle under my breath. She didn’t even give me a chance to respond to what she just told me, but I’ll let it slide for now. Her shakiness has subsided, but she’s still cold.
“My best friend is deaf. I learned sign language so he didn’t feel so alone.”
“That must be nice...” she gestures.
“What?”
“To have someone care like that.”
My heart nearly shatters at the sad look in her eyes, and I pull her closer to me. “I can help you, but I need you to trust me,” I say, taking the bag from her hands and into my lap.
“How?” she tilts her head to the side.
“A new identity. My family can get you into the college in our town; they practically own it, and we can change your name so the people can never find you, but to do that, we need them to believe you’re dead.”
Her head rears back, “I can’t. My dad...”
I’m already shaking my head, rummaging through her bag for anything important she might want to keep. “This is your only chance at a new life. Your dad told you to run, and that’s what you need to do, but if these people who are after you have any sort of power, they will find you with just your name, no matter where you go. Do you have anything in this bag you can’t live without?”
She takes the bag from me, retrieving a bundled-up t-shirt and a photo of her and her dad at this very beach. Her hand wraps around the money at the bottom, but I stop her, shaking my head. “Leave it.”
“Why?”
“I have money. The money in the bag will make them all think you’re dead. Give me your shoes,” I say gently.
She pulls the shoes from her feet, and I gather them in my hands with the bag. Jumping from the truck, I leave her sitting in the warmth as I jog down the sand. I then throw the shoes and bag at the edges of the waves, watching them push them further up the beach.
This is going to be hard for her, but all I can think about is that I need to get her out of here, away from the edge of the cliff that I watched her jump from, and away from the pain that dragged her under.
I get back to the truck, and she watches me with wide eyes. “I’m not going to leave you,” I say, my voice steady but firm. “I don’t care what you’ve been through or what stole your voice. You’re not alone now.”
She lifts her head slightly, her brown eyes searching mine, flicking over every inch of me like she’s trying to find something to hold on to. Her hand reaches out, trembling as it presses against the skin of my wrist. She doesn’t say anything, but her mouth opens as if she wants to.
Her eyes close, her head falling back against the headrest as I reverse the truck, determined to get her back to my home where she’ll be safe. Her breathing slows, and the tremors in her body lessen.
I can’t fix whatever’s broken inside her, but I can give her something to hold on to.
A promise that I’m here.