Chapter Sixty #2
I push back. My legs find the bottom again. The water’s at my chest now, and the weight of it is terrifying, a reminder of every nightmare. But it’s real. It’s mine.
Benji’s eyes search mine. He doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t try to hold me longer than I want.
“I wanna try,” I say.
He nods once, pride blooming across his face like sunrise.
I take a deep breath, push off the floor, and float. Just for a second. Just enough to move. My arms paddle, legs kicking sloppy. Not graceful. Not perfect. But me. Moving. Free.
I take a breath and it goes wrong.
Water hits the back of my throat. I sputter. Panic flares bright and hot. My chest locks. My limbs freeze. This is it, my brain shrieks, this is how it happens again.
“Delilah!” Benji’s voice is closer, but I don’t let him reach me.
I spit. I choke. I kick. And I keep going.
Not far. Not fast. But I make it to the wall. Myself. My hands slap the tile and I grip it like a prize, chest heaving, lungs fire-bright.
I did it.
“Holy fuck,” I wheeze. “Holy fuck.”
Benji’s there a second later, not touching, but glowing. Eyes shining. The pride on his face is so loud it drowns out the fear. “You did it,” he says.
I start to cry. I can’t help it. It’s all hitting me now, what I did, how much I’ve fought for it, how many ghosts I told to go fuck themselves today.
“I did,” I whisper.
And then Jett’s shouting from the other end of the pool, “You fucking did!” and there’s clapping, and Rhys is somehow holding a towel already and smiling like a proud professor who’s watching his favorite delinquent finally graduate.
I laugh through the tears. I laugh like I’m made of lightning.
Benji holds out his arms.
And this time I swim into them. On my own.
By the time I drag myself out of the pool, I’m trembling so hard I’m not even sure I can stand. My legs are jelly. My lungs are helium. My face is soaked and not just from the water.
And they descend.
Rhys is the first to reach me, all pressed linen and cool confidence, but his hands are almost shaking as he wraps the towel around my shoulders like it’s a goddamn coronation robe.
“You were brilliant, pet,” he says, voice low and thick with feeling.
His lips brush my temple. “Absolutely stunning.”
Benji’s right behind him, crouching down to rub my legs with another towel. His eyes are wide and wet, and his voice breaks as he says, “I’m so proud of you.” His hands slide up to cradle my face and then, fuck, he kisses me so softly it undoes me. “You did it. You really did it.”
“Of course I did,” I sniff, immediately crying again and laughing about it too. “I’m amazing.”
“You’re ridiculous,” Jett says, but he’s already yanking me into his arms like I weigh nothing, holding me tight against his warm, bare chest. “You scared the shit out of me,” he growls into my hair, but it’s not anger. It’s pure terror that’s been alchemized into love.
“Princess,” he says raw, “that was the bravest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.”
And now I’m sobbing.
I’m wrapped up in towels and muscles and mouths, my arms tangled around Jett’s neck, Benji’s hands petting my thighs, Rhys’s fingers carding through my wet hair.
They carry me to the lounge chairs like I’m royalty.
Benji plops down first and tugs me into his lap, wrapping his arms around me with that human furnace heat that makes my bones sigh.
Rhys sits beside us, elegant and composed but his hand never leaves mine.
Jett paces like a caged beast for two seconds before flopping down at my feet and dragging my legs into his lap.
I’m swaddled in boys and towels and warmth.
I’ve never felt safer.
Benji presses kisses to my wet shoulder. “You’re incredible.”
“She is,” Rhys agrees, rubbing slow circles over my wrist. “Fearless and maddening and mine.”
Jett snorts. “Mine too.”
“Oh my god,” I groan, “please don’t start measuring dicks again, I just learned how to not drown.”
Benji laughs. “Let her breathe, guys.”
“I’d rather taste her,” Jett says, and then the bastard leans up and steals a kiss right from my mouth. It’s filthy. Tongue and teeth and possession.
“I was gonna feed her chocolate,” Benji says, his voice is all sunshine and smitten and so in love it hurts.
Rhys rolls his eyes and pulls out a small tupperware. “Fortunately, I planned ahead.”
It’s chocolate-dipped strawberries, because of course it is.
He offers me one, but before I can take it, Benji licks a stripe down my neck like he’s taste-testing my salt. “Gotta prep the palate.”
“Jesus,” Jett groans, but he’s not fooling anyone. He steals the strawberry from Rhys’s hand, takes a bite, then feeds me the other half with his mouth.
I moan.
Rhys sighs.
Benji looks like he might combust from joy.
This is my life now.
These ridiculous, beautiful men. This tender, bickering chaos. This pile of love so wide and weird and ours that I want to roll around in it forever.
“I love you all,” I say, dizzy and warm and so, so full.
“You better,” Benji whispers into my neck.
“Every fucked-up inch of us,” Jett says.
“Especially mine,” Rhys says, pressing a kiss to my knuckles.
I smile like I could float again.
Because I think I could.