CHAPTER TWELVE
J ason
The wind whips past my ears as I gun the jet ski across the open water. I can’t hear anything but the roar of the engine.
For the first time all week, I’m free.
Something like joy bursts from my chest, and I whoop into the glittery paradise.
Sapphire waves bounce around us, and glimmering fish swivel past, smirking at our need to hire jet skis in order to gawk at their beauty. The horizon has long since swallowed the hotel, and now there’s nothing else in sight.
I wonder if Cal is enjoying this and glance back.
He’s not there.
I frown and slow the engine. I scan the ocean. He can’t have disappeared.
Except it seems like that’s exactly what he did.
A knot tightens in my gut, and I turn in a wide circle. The world is water and sky. Nothing else.
The knot in my stomach tightens.
“Cal?” I shout.
Nothing.
I turn around, hoping I’m heading in the right direction. Because fuck, there are no landmarks here. It’s easy to get lost.
Finally, I find him. He’s barely more than a speck. His jet ski is motionless as the waves toss it this way and that, and he’s standing on top of it, grasping awkwardly onto a single handle.
My stomach sinks.
He flails his other arm wildly. Even from here, I can tell it’s not a look-at-the-cool fish wave. He’s frantic.
Fuck.
I head toward him. The closer I get, the more I realize something is wrong. Cal’s face is red, his clothes are wet and cling to him, though mine do too. These waves are brutal.
“Jason!” His voice cracks. “JASON!”
“I’m on my way!” I shout, trying to sound reassuring.
When I finally pull up beside him, his eyes are wide, and he looks... shaky. Not like Cal.
“What the hell happened?” I ask.
“It died,” he gasps. “It sputtered and stopped, and I kept shouting for you but—” His voice cuts out, and he swallows hard. “I thought you weren’t coming back.”
My chest tightens.
“You thought I left you?” I ask, sharper than I mean to.
He doesn’t meet my gaze. “I can’t even see the island anymore.”
I glance around. He’s right. The resort has vanished into the shimmering horizon. All around us is water.
“Try the engine again.”
“It won’t—” he presses the start button anyway. It makes a sound like an aggrieved blender, then stops. He flinches.
“Swim over.”
He stares at me like I asked him to jump into shark-infested waters. Which maybe I have. Are there sharks here?
“You can swim, right?” I ask.
His silence answers for him.
Jesus Christ.
He can’t swim. He chased me into the middle of the fucking Pacific, and he can’t swim.
I suddenly feel like the asshole in this situation.
“Okay,” I blurt. “Hold on.”
I take off my lifejacket and strip off my shirt. His eyes widen, and I smirk. I know I look good. I like that he’s noticed.
I keep the shirt on my lap then put on my lifejacket. Finally, I restart the engine and narrow the distance between us. I hand him one end of the shirt. “Grab this.”
His fingers tighten, and I cut the engine. The shirt goes taut like the makeshift tether it is.
“Now climb on.”
He hesitates.
“You’re going to be fine, Cal,” I reassure him. “You have your lifejacket on. I’ll be here to help you if you fall. I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”
“We’ll both fit?”
“We’ll both fit,” I say. “Couples go on these together all the time.”
My pulse quickens, and I wish I hadn’t phrased it that way. Because we’re not a couple. I should have said acquaintances go on these together. Or even friends. Or enemies, because that’s what we are.
“Swing your leg over and hold on.”
Cal climbs on. The jet ski wobbles, then his arms tighten around my torso. He’s still shaking.
I try not to focus on how his breath is hot against my neck or that he smells like sunscreen and salt and something citrusy that should not be distracting.
His jet ski drifts away.
“There goes my deposit,” Cal says.
“Want to blame alien abduction or pirates?”
He lets out a shaky laugh that rumbles against my spine.
I don’t say anything. I keep riding.
But I can’t stop thinking about how scared he looked.
Or the way his hands clutch my waist.