Chapter 5
5
S imon watched as Carlisle looked at him only briefly, seeming more than a little forlorn. Arms crossed, she leaned forward, the carefree tank top and shorts, the colorful sneakers with no socks had lost some of their summer day appeal.
“I hit a pothole. And when I bounced out of it, I overcorrected. I went right off the road and into the lake.” She said it as if he should know which lake she was talking about.
Needing to make the empty space between them less awkward, he reached out for the hard cider. He’d already had the flavored water, but the can was empty, and he needed something to do. Starting to twist off the cap, he paused and set it back.
“You can have it.” She almost smiled. At least she seemed back in her element. He wondered if this was just who Carlisle was or if it was a trait of all Southern women to be so charming.
“Oh, I can’t drink alcohol—” But . . . he could . There wasn’t anyone here who might need him to be alert and functioning on a moment’s notice. He wouldn’t carry that regret again. He’d even bought his own beer, but the refusal was ingrained. “Actually, I can.”
He twisted the top off and took a drink before she could ask what he meant. The story was far too long and involved for a dinner on the back deck. They’d wandered far enough from casual already. He wasn’t going to add to her melancholy with his own. When he finally set the bottle down, he commandeered the conversation. “But you're okay?”
“Supposedly?” She didn’t push about the drink, but once again the expression left her face as if she didn’t really know the answer herself. Then she looked at him and clarified. “Physically, yes.”
There was something in the tone of her voice that had flattened. No more adorable southern drawl, just a narrator explaining the bare bones of the story.
“I was underwater for fifteen minutes. Or that's what they tell me.”
She waited a moment, pausing, letting it sink in that she'd volunteered that information. But again, not much detail. Simon tried to imagine how that must have felt. She’d driven into a lake and was underwater—she must have been scared shitless. Probably what stoked the nightmare the other night. Damn, but she’d earned a good petrified terror.
Simon spent his time consulting with businesses, discussing production flow, looking to manage costs. So he had no idea about the physiological or medical aspects of it. “But wouldn't fifteen minutes underwater kill you or leave you brain damaged?”
A ghost of a smile passed so quickly that he would have missed it if he hadn't been looking at her—staring really, studying her face. Her mouth didn't even turn down. She’d simply gone expressionless, and he saw he’d read her right before. She wasn't fully okay with it, whatever it was.
“I got lucky,” she said. “And I was stupid. ”
How was he supposed to respond to that? Tell her she wasn't stupid? He didn't even know what she was talking about. He’d seen the potholes in this area of town. They could easily throw a driver for a loop and a bad split-second decision.
He and Carlisle lived in a neighborhood that was certainly not one of the more affluent ones. The real estate agent had first warned him away from this area. She’d seen his income, qualified him for the loan, and repeatedly tried to talk him into a larger house in a nicer neighborhood. She’d talked up a future family that he wasn't planning on.
“I thought I had one of those seatbelt cutters and window breaker things.” She still wasn’t looking at him. She still had no expression, but he couldn’t look away. Maybe the telling of a car wreck was the same as driving past one. He slowed down and paid attention.
“But . . . uh, I didn't know where I could get to it. I had some two-liter bottles of fruit punch.” She shuddered a little bit and it clicked then.
“You’re her? ” he asked it before he thought twice. Of course, as soon as the two simple words were out of his mouth, he wished he could swallow them back. How stupid. How rude .
Though he'd thrown them out there like a misaimed missile, she didn't even flinch when they hit.
“I guess the gossip gets around,” she said. Finally, she looked back at him, the smile on her face not a happy one.
Simon shook his head, wanting to deny the accusation even if it wasn’t quite directly lobbed at him. “No, I heard about you on the national news.”
He watched as her eyes flew wide. “You didn't know?”
She shook her head as if she were confused, and he tried to explain.
“Maybe it wasn't you, but I think it was here in the south. It was a young woman who drove her car into a lake and couldn't get out. She was stuck, alone, and she emptied soda bottles and captured the air in them to breathe. She managed to stay alive until somebody could get down to rescue her.”
Even as he repeated the fantastic tale he’d heard from the reporter on his mother’s favorite news show, Simon saw the recognition cross her face before she nodded.
Carlisle was her .
This time he tried to think before he spoke. “That was an incredibly smart thing to do.” She'd probably heard that before. He was just being an idiot.
“It didn't feel smart. It felt like I was going to die and I didn't know if anybody was coming for me. I was stuck in the first place because I was stupid. Because I didn't have the right tool, something that I should have had!”
Her eyes grew wet, but she breathed in, lips pressed closed and blinked away the forming tears until he wasn't even sure he'd seen it.
“Anyway,” she said, physically moving as if shaking it off and changing the mood on purpose. “It's all just water under the bridge and over my head, I guess.”
If she’d meant it to be funny, she’d missed the mark by a bit. Seeming to see that she’d landed flat, Carlisle kept talking. “Ever Halifax—who pulled me out—she lives just over there across the tracks. She's dating my cousin Jax.”
Simon couldn't help it. Another laugh burbled out of him, and Carlisle frowned at him again.
“You are, once again, related to everybody in town,” he told her.
“Not everybody,” she said. “Not Ever.”
“But she's your friend. You know everyone and they know you.” He felt his tone soften. “It's a good thing you had a friend who pulled you out of the water.”
He couldn't help thinking how glad he was that this Ever person had done that and that Carlisle was still here .
But though she'd loosened up and smiled a bit, it all clamped down again at his words. What had he said?
She recrossed her arms and looked off to the side, her lips pursed. “She wasn't my friend before she saved me. And that's on me.”