Chapter Eighteen
Late the next afternoon, the sun was low over the horizon in a wash of orange and pink as Lachlan pulled up a red and yellow flag and loaded it on the metal trailer attached to the buggy.
Mark was with him on pack-up, speaking into the megaphone in his even, low voice. “The lifeguards are going home. You’re swimming at your own risk. You can swim again tomorrow when it’s safe.”
Across the beach, there were still dozens of swimmers in the water, close to shore but blithely ignoring the warnings.
Surfers paddled out for a couple more sets, the waves a meter and a half.
Surfers rarely took notice of the lifeguards, and usually it wasn’t a problem since they could handle themselves.
Lachlan hopped back in the buggy. All day, he’d been trying to think of what to say to Mark. Not that he needed to say anything. Mark hadn’t brought up Julian and had seemed as calm as usual.
As they drove slowly north, Mark repeated the warning. A few people splashed back onto the sand, but most didn’t seem to care. Lachlan jumped out and pulled up a DANGEROUS CURRENTS sign. Someone’s towel and tote bag sat right beneath it.
“This is not a safe swimming area!” Mark called out on the megaphone. “The lifeguards are leaving. Get out of the water and come back tomorrow.”
A handful of people did as they were told.
There were still others having a play getting tumbled in the shore break, and Mark sighed heavily as he turned the buggy back toward the tower.
It happened almost every night in the summer, and with the autumn heatwave, the crowds were just as big—and stubborn.
“You right?” Mark asked.
Lachlan blinked in surprise. “Me? Fine. Why?”
Eyes on the sand as he wove around a group of people laughing and drinking something that was probably alcoholic, Mark simply said, “Julian.”
For a few moments, Lachlan could only stare at him. Did he…? No. He couldn’t. Could he?
“Why would I… What?”
Mark glanced at him, lifting one eyebrow, and whoa.
Lachlan’s brain sputtered. “You knew about me and Julian back then?”
Mark nodded. “I didn’t tell anyone. Don’t worry.”
“But… Huh. Wow. Okay. Um, yeah, I’m good. Didn’t expect to see him yesterday, but it was a long time ago.”
“Good.”
“Why do you hate him so much?”
They’d arrived at the foot of the tower and Mark only picked up the radio and said, “Central, I’m parking the buggy.”
Mia replied, “Copy that.”
Lachlan desperately wanted an answer, but he had to get out as Mark backed the buggy into the garage. He told himself it didn’t matter. Julian had been long gone for years. Sure, he’d shown up yesterday, but after the reception he’d received, they wouldn’t see him again at Barkers.
Cody and Mia were inside the tower, and in jeans and a gray hoodie, Tim stood above on the wooden deck, watching the water, arms crossed.
He’d been over in the office all day, monitoring the radios and doing whatever paperwork the boss had to do. Which had surely been for the best even if Lachlan had ached to glimpse a smile and see the way his eyes crinkled around the edges…
The garage door rumbled down, and Mark locked it as Lachlan climbed halfway up the steps. Above, he could hear Tim speaking to Mia about pulling down the shutters, and—
“Is that a head?” Lachlan asked out loud, mostly talking to himself.
In the golden light, he peered at the shadow in the water. Then another. Mark had turned at the foot of the steps, the garage key dangling in his hand on its long cord.
As Tim shouted, “Three heads, third ramp!” Mark was already unlocking the garage and Lachlan leapt down the last several stairs, his bare feet barely hitting the sand before he was on concrete, unhooking the trailer from the buggy as Mark started the engine.
Cody’s voice came over the radio. “They’re getting sucked out the back. Going under already!” He spoke steadily, but the tension was clear in his tone.
He didn’t need to tell them they were both in immediately, and Lachlan was sure Tim and Mia would be backing up in another buggy. He didn’t look, eyes locked on the three people fighting for their lives. He pulled off his shirt, poised on the side of his seat to leap out.
It was only five meters across dry sand before he was splashing through the shallows, hopping and pushing his board through the shore break, water crashing over his face. It felt like forever before he was on his belly paddling as hard as he ever had in his life.
A young man and woman struggled, clutching each other. In a panic, the man was climbing the ladder, pushing the woman under as he clawed at the water, but Lachlan had to go for the farthest head, leaving the couple for Mark and the others.
In the impact zone, the person—a man, he thought?—was bobbing up and down, disappearing under the water for endless seconds. Shoulders burning, Lachlan glued his eyes to the patient. He was fifteen meters away. Twelve. Ten.
The man’s face was barely above the surface, his mouth open and hair plastered over his eyes.
Almost, almost…
A wave broke and forced the man under in a froth of white water. Heart ready to explode as he paddled, Lachlan watched for him to pop back up.
Come on, come on!
He didn’t come back up.
Flat on his board, Lachlan reached down, grasping, searching. He should’ve been right over him now, but there was nothing. Another wave loomed, and Lachlan sucked in a breath and paddled to duck below it.
Under the churning water, he peered around until his lungs burned. The sun was setting below the horizon, and it was too dark.
Gasping at the surface, he pulled himself up to straddle his board, praying he’d see the man reappear. Behind him, Mark and Mia were paddling the couple back to shore.
A voice shouted, “He’s under!” It was Blake, paddling over from where he’d been surfing. Lachlan jerked his head side to side, blood rushing in his ears as he searched.
No!
He had to come back up.
Come up!
Lachlan and Blake kept looking, Mia paddling back out too. Minutes ticked by, each one an eternity. Each one dimming the desperate hope Lachlan clung to.
Close to ten minutes had to have passed when the engine of the Jet Ski roared close, Tim standing up in his boxer briefs and life vest, searching.
Searching.
Within another few minutes, the rescue helicopter arrived, the staccato rhythm of the rotors unable to drown out the terrible screaming in Lachlan’s mind. The downdraft whipped the water into his burning eyes.
“I’m sorry!” Lachlan heard, his throat raw.
It was his own voice.
They searched on as night closed in, and he distantly recognized it was no longer a rescue. This was a body retrieval.
A motor hummed close, and Tim appeared on the Jet Ski. He turned the engine to idle. “Search is off until first light.”
“No, we can’t stop!” Lachlan shivered as the wind picked up.
Mia was there, and she said, “It’s okay, Lachie. I’ll take your board. Get on the ski.”
“No!” They couldn’t give up! “A few more minutes. He might be…”
“No,” Tim said gruffly. He reached down, and Lachlan blinked up, wanting almost nothing more than to jump into his arms. Curl on his lap and feel those strong arms tight around him.
Almost.
With a brief clasp of Tim’s hand on his, Lachlan swung up behind him on the ski. He sat stiff and frozen, and Tim turned his head, his blue gaze intense. Like he was staring right into Lachlan’s messy, squirming, yet strangely cold insides.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
A sob choked him, and Lachlan trembled. The hard lines of Tim’s sun-worn face softened, and he reached back, his hand warm on Lachlan’s bare knee.
“It wasn’t your fault,” he repeated, squeezing hard. “Now hang on. Tight.”
Lachlan collapsed against Tim’s back, wishing the padding of the life vest wasn’t between them.
Wishing they were naked, alone, in a bed with nothing between them, skin on skin.
The rest of the world gone, no secrets left.
No horrible weight crushing his lungs like he was too far under the surface with waves pinning him down.
Arms around Tim’s waist, he held on with every bit of strength he had left. His muscles shook, and he stumbled to his knees in the sand after Tim beached the ski near the tower. Cody waited, but Tim was there behind him in a heartbeat, hands under Lachlan’s arms.
Tim was saying something to Cody, who nodded, looking at Lachlan with obvious concern.
Get it together!
Legs like jelly, he forced himself to move, shaking off Tim because he’d completely lose it otherwise. Weeping like a baby in Tim’s arms was not acceptable behavior on the job, even after…
Tim was talking, but Lachlan couldn’t focus on what he was saying as he ran up the beach to where paramedics crouched around the two patients Mark and Mia had rescued. They stood close by, sharing a glance as Lachlan neared. A cop tried to stop him, but Lachlan shook her off.
Blake was nearby with Damo, who’d been off-duty but had clearly run over to be with him. The remaining beachgoers had gathered to gawk.
“Hey, mate,” Mark said, squeezing Lachlan’s arm.
There was nothing more to say, was there? Lachlan shivered, watching the young couple, who looked to be in their early twenties. They sat on the sand with metallic blankets around them, the man breathing from an oxygen mask. Mia switched on the buggy headlights as true darkness descended.
A towel was wrapped around Lachlan’s shoulders, and he caught the scent of Tim’s cologne, his arm solid and real around him. Just for a heartbeat, Lachlan allowed himself to lean into Tim’s warmth.
One of the paramedics said gently to the patients, “We need to take you both to the hospital to get checked out.”
The man sputtered. “But, but—Callum! We can’t go without him!”
Pale-faced and wet in the white glare of the buggy headlights, the young woman bent in half. Forehead on her knees, she wailed, the sound jagged and bloody. Soul deep.
The cry echoed on the wind, and Lachlan knew he’d hear it in his nightmares.