Chapter 13 #3
Her giggles echo around us, light and infectious, filling the space. A beautiful smile, one I haven’t seen before, takes over her face as she throws her arms out wide. I thought I knew all of them by now, but this one is new. There’s a dimple on her left cheek, peeking out in hello.
It steals all the air from my lungs.
She’s gorgeous, and I desperately want to tell her that.
A crack slices through the air, jostling my thoughts.
Once.
Twice.
My stomach bottoms out before I can even react.
Erin’s head lowers just a fraction at the sound, but before a scream can escape, the ice cracks and pulls her under.
“ERIN!”
Her name rips from my jugular as I catapult over the wall.
My skates eat the distance, ice spraying behind me.
I don’t think. I just move. I drop to my knees at the break in the ice.
The cold bites me as I plunge my arm into the water.
My fingers scrape against the jagged edges as I reach for her, pulse thundering in my ears.
When my fingers find fabric—her sweater, her body—I yank, pulling her with all my strength, body trembling from shock and cold. Her face is pale, lips blue, eyes closed like she’s already gone.
I haul her up to safety and drag her into my arms as I check for signs of life. There are no sounds.
Please, Erin, please.
I push her wet hair away, desperate to see her beautiful eyes. The cold air mixing with my harsh breaths burns my lungs.
“Erin? Sweetheart?”
I spot the gash on her head next.
Dark red blood stark against her pale skin.
Fuck!
Erin’s body is limp and weightless in my arms. As soon as I have her off the ice, I remove our skates, discarding them somewhere around me, crank up the heat in the truck, and slam on the gas, cradling her to my chest the entire drive.
The truck smells of antifreeze, and somehow that’s the thing that tells me this is real.
Gravel pinches the sole of my feet through my socks as I charge for the hospital doors. I don’t bother locking up my truck.
The automatic doors open.
There are people everywhere, and bright fluorescent lights blind me in a rush of chaos as I yell for help and barrel past those patiently sitting in the waiting room.
Erin’s wet hair sticks to my T-shirt, her skin is so cold it seeps through the fabric, sending a shiver down my spine. People in scrubs rush us. Hands fly around me as they pull Erin out of my arms and lay her small body on a gurney.
A pressure builds in my chest as I look at her.
Pale. Blue lips. Unmoving.
She looks exactly how she felt in my arms.
Frozen.
I stumble after them through the waiting room as they roll Erin down the hall. The place people go and don’t always come back.
“No, wait. Please!” My voice comes out strangled, the words barely coherent as I struggle to breathe through the rising panic. “I’m here, Erin,” I yell just as the metal doors slam shut behind the nurses, leaving me standing alone. “I’m here.”
Alone, I slide down the wall as memories crash over me.
Wave after wave.
Fast and gut-wrenching.
I do my best to replace them with positive thoughts—just as Damon has suggested in our therapy sessions before.
But I’m only capable of three words.
Please be okay.
Please be okay.
Please be okay.
My eyes scrunch together as I replay her plunging into the ice over and over again.
The maintenance report runs through my mind. I pay a crew to maintain it and make sure the pond stays intact year-round, checking it twice a day—morning and evening.
I know the routine.
Check and measure the thickness of the ice.
Confirm temperature readings and pressures.
Ensure the installed system under the pond is performing as it should be.
The detailed text came through to me this morning the same time it always does, letting me know everything was reading as it should be and was perfectly safe to be used.
It was smooth and glassy when we arrived this afternoon. There was nothing suggesting there was a problem. Not until Erin’s weight and blades connected with the thin surface, and the chilling crack echoed around us.
The emergency room doors swish open, and my head jerks up. Bella bursts through first, Brodie right behind her. They’re both wearing concerned expressions. Her frantic gaze searches through the sea of people.
When her eyes find me, she wastes no time running over. Her feet pound against the tiles, and she crashes into me with such force it nearly knocks the wind out of me. Her abrupt sobs rattle me to my core.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper, the words tearing my insides apart, rough like sandpaper. “I’m so fucking sorry.”
Brodie’s arms come around us both, holding us in place. Strong and reassuring.
“It wasn’t your fault, Chase,” Bella croaks in sadness. “You got to her. She’s gonna be fine.”
Her words hit me like a car going a hundred miles an hour. They’re too much. Too heavy for me to hold, and I bolt.
My shoes slap against the tiles as I race down the corridor. It stretches out in front of me, an endless tunnel, the door to the air I need moving farther away.
My knees buckle and hit the concrete as soon as I burst through the exit. Cold air fills my lungs. I punch the ground and let out a strangled cry as I picture her on the gurney.
Closed eyes.
Blue lips.
Pale face.
She looked dead, just like Jack did when I saw him lying sprawled out on the ice.
Strangers pass by, potentially thinking I’m a coward for sitting out here while the girl I let fall through a pond fights for her life. I don’t move, and I don’t leave.
I’m not strong enough to be there with her.
A hand lands on my knee.
I jerk and look up at my friend.
My face scans Brodie’s, searching for an answer to a question I’m too afraid to ask.
The reassuring nod he gives me smashes through the panic inside my ribcage and relief floods through me.
“The doctors say she’s hypothermic but only mildly.
Her body temperature is rising steadily, probably because of being under water for a short period of time,” Brodie explains.
“She’s regaining consciousness quickly. No signs of confusion or vomiting to indicate a concussion.
Just a minor bump to the head. She’s completely fine.
They’re going to stitch her up and discharge her. ”
She’s okay.
She’s alive.
I haven’t lost someone else.
Erin’s place comes into view as Brodie pulls up in front of her door and kills the engine. I wanted to see Erin right after Brodie told me that she was awake and responding, but he told me that I was in no condition to see her.
He was right.
He drove me home, told me to shower and pull myself together.
“Get outta your head,” Brodie says when he unbuckles his seat belt.
“I can’t stop seeing it,” I say as the ice cracking beneath Erin rings out in my ears.
“It was an accident, Chase.”
My life seems to be full of those lately.
“Come on. She wants to see you. You’re not as pretty when you’re mopey.” Brodie smirks and steps out of his car. I fall in line behind him and watch him knock.
“Hey, come in,” Bella says, her tone light and inviting when she opens the door. We step inside, and I avert my eyes. Guilt and shame flood my veins for what I let happen to her sister.
“She’s in her room,” Bella says with a head gesture when I don’t move.
My stomach twists into knots. Her kindness feels wrong. Her gentle smile and calm posture show me she doesn’t blame me for what happened, but it doesn’t mean I don’t.
Upstairs, one door is open. I find Erin sitting up in bed under the comforter, more blankets on top, wearing teddy pajamas with a book in her hand. The lamp shows off the healthy hue of skin as if the chilly water never touched her.
“Hey,” I say, hovering in the doorway.
She looks up, a tender look in her eyes. “You won’t get frostbite if you come closer, you know.”
I frown.
“Too soon?” she teases.
My steps are slow as I walk over to her and sink onto the edge of the bed. “I should have been there.”
“You were.” Her hand covers mine and the heat from her skin surges through me, pushing away the memory of her icy skin that had settled there earlier.
“I never would have taken you out there… If I…”
She reaches for her face and tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. That’s when my eyes catch the stitches above the tail end of her eyebrow.
My hand cups her cheek.
“Fuck, I’m so—”
Her arms slip around my neck, silencing my apology. I breathe in her shampoo and essence.
She’s here. She’s okay. She’s alive.
When she detangles herself, her eyes are sparkling and there’s that dimple again, staring at me.
“You don’t seem mad,” I murmur, my brows pinching.
“Why would I be?”
I blink at her. “You hit your head, fell through the ice, and…”
“Chase, do you realize that you skated?” She radiates joy as if it’s a miracle and I’m somehow cured.
I pause.
She’s right.
I did skate.
A heavy pressure forms in the pit of my stomach, and I realize it’s more than just skating that’s making me feel this way. I was on the ice, and I didn’t seize, choke, or panic.
I didn’t see Jack lying there.
For months, I’ve been hiding behind my web of lies, too afraid to admit the real reason I can’t bring myself to go back out there.
But today, I did.
And now I’m more confused than ever.
Did Erin being in danger replace my fear of stepping on the ice? My fear of seeing Jack? Did it break the curse I placed on myself because my mind knew Erin was someone I could save?
My thoughts take on a mind of their own.
If I can get on the ice without seeing Jack’s body lying there, what’s left for me to be afraid of?
Was it a fluke? Was it the adrenaline from knowing Erin needed me and I had to get to her? Or is this the second chance I’ve been waiting for without even realizing it?
The thoughts thrash against my skull.
When I find Erin watching me, it’s like she’s put it together. Like she sees all of it. The pain, the guilt, the lies, and she… understands.
“I’m proud of you, Chase,” she says in a whisper. I feel like a fraud who doesn’t deserve her praise.
“No.” I shake my head. “Don’t be proud of me. I-I’ve been—”
“Chase, it’s okay,” she says in a hushed tone.
“It’s not okay.” I drag my fingers through my hair. “If I’d been honest from the start, gone to my ice evaluations, and told Coach Avery or Briar, they could’ve helped me. I-I could’ve been out there with you.”
“I’m okay, Chase. You got to me. I’m right here,” she says, her words laced with tranquility as she tries to reassure me.
“You fell. Right in front of me. Your lips were blue, and your skin was ice cold. You looked… Erin, I thought…”
I shake my head and turn away from her.
“Chase, look at me.”
I do.
“Do you see me?” she asks. “Do you see me, Eighty-Seven?”
“I see you.”
“Good, because I’m right here.”
“Erin,” I whisper, but it almost comes across as I’m pleading.
“Tell me what I can do to help you. What do you need?”
A sudden stillness grips me.
“Tell me,” she pushes.
“I need to feel you in my arms. I need to know you’re real. That the ice didn’t take you from me. Let me hold you, please.”
My eyes search hers. I know it’s probably too much for her, and hell, maybe it’s selfish, but I fucking need her right now.
Don’t push me away sweetheart.
She shuffles over and grabs her laptop, placing it in front of her. She hits a few keys as I kick off my shoes and will my heart to settle down at the idea of being in the same bed as her.
Leaning my head back against her headboard, I drape my arm around her and give her a little tug. She melts into my body.
Warm. Mine. Alive.
The opening credits to Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles begins to play, and I let out a real exhale, feeling the tension slip away for the first time in hours.
“Hey, Eighty-Seven?” she murmurs, her head tilting up to look at me. “Thanks for coming to get me.” Her voice is quiet, but it’s as if she’s giving me a moment I can’t quite put into words. She’s letting me be me—no more lies, no more pretending.
I swallow, desperately trying to keep the ache in my throat at bay.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” I whisper, pressing a kiss to her forehead.
Despite it seeming she may have already figured it out, I can’t bring myself to say the words out loud, the ones that speak my truths. I don’t know how I’m going to tell her. But right now, I know one thing for sure—I don’t want to lose her.