Chapter 5
Sierra
I shove through the crowd, barely registering the people stumbling out of my way until I finally break through the chaos.
He’s on the ground now, water dripping from his clothes, pooling beneath him against the concrete. The guy next to him is soaked just the same, down on his knees beside him, completely focused on him and nothing else.
He doesn’t even look up. He tilts Vince’s head back and presses his mouth to his, forcing air into his lungs before pulling back and immediately starting compressions again, his movements sharp and practiced, like he’s done this before.
“Come on… come on,” he mutters quietly to himself, more like a passing thought than something meant for anyone else.
I stop a few steps away, my hands flying to my face without thinking, my breath breaking as the reality of it crashes into me all at once.
“No… no, no…”
This isn’t happening. It can’t be.
Because this is Vince.
Vince, who used to wait for me after school like it was the most normal thing in the world. Vince, who knew exactly how to calm me down when I got pissed off over nothing. Vince, who used to look at me like I was the only girl that existed.
My Vince.
Or at least… he used to be.
Ten years ago.
My chest seizes, something sharp twisting inside as I take another step forward, my eyes locked on him, on the way he doesn’t move or react.
This isn’t how this is supposed to end.
Not like this.
Not here.
“Vince…” I whisper again, the last syllable falling apart before I can hold it together.
“Sierra, hey, hey…” Tess’s voice cuts through, right next to me, as she grabs my arm, trying to pull me back. “It’s okay, it’s okay, he’s going to be fine.”
I shake my head, my eyes locked on Vince… The way his body lies there, completely still, like a statue frozen in time.
“He’s not waking up…” I barely get out, my chest tightening harder with every second that passes.
“Hey, look at me,” Tess insists, stepping in front of me and forcing my attention onto her. “He knows what he’s doing, okay? Cain is a professional swimmer; he’s my instructor. He’s got this.” Her words barely register at first.
Cain. The name lingers in my head longer than it should.
Behind her, Cain keeps going, completely focused, water dripping from his clothes as his hands press down on Vince’s chest again and again, his movements precise, controlled.
“Will someone call a fucking ambulance, for fuck’s sake?!” he barks, hands already slamming back against Vince’s chest before he even glances up.
Tess’s hold tightens around my arm.
“See? He’s doing everything right,” she adds quickly, like saying it out loud will make it true. But my eyes don’t leave Vince. Because something still feels wrong.
Cain
The second my hands touch his chest, I already know he’s gone. Not drowning. Not choking. Gone.
Still, I don’t stop.
My palms press down in a steady, practiced rhythm, my body moving on instinct while I count it out in my head.
One, two, three…
Breathe.
Repeat.
It looks right.
That’s what matters.
Water drips from my clothes, soaking into the ground beneath me as I lean over him again, forcing air into his lungs before pulling back.
Nothing.
No reaction.
My hands keep moving long after I already know it’s pointless. Same rhythm. Same pressure. No hesitation.
From the outside, I probably seem like I’m trying. That’s the important thing.
The noise around me swells and shifts, people talking over each other, stepping back, stepping closer, no one really knowing what to do. I tune most of it out, focusing on the pattern, on the way my palms press down against his chest.
Count.
Breathe.
Repeat.
I don’t rush it. Rushing looks wrong.
Then the sound of sirens cuts through everything. I finally ease back as they force their way through the crowd, giving them space only when one of them motions for it.
“Let us take over.”
I lean back on my heels, breathing heavier than necessary, dragging a hand through my wet hair as I shift out of their way.
They move fast. Efficient. Checking, adjusting, silently communicating between each other.
I keep staring at them, blank and unfocused, like the shock hollowed everything out of me.
“I’m sorry,” one of them says, his voice carrying just enough to reach the people closest by. “We’ve done everything we can.”
The reaction is immediate—gasps breaking through the crowd, someone crying somewhere behind me, someone else swearing under their breath.
I stay still for another second, jaw clenching as I stare down at Vince, like my brain’s still trying to catch up to what I’m seeing.
“Fuck…” I let the words out softly, careful to make them sound genuine.
A paramedic turns to me. “You were the one doing CPR?”
I nod once, pushing myself to my feet. “Yeah.”
“Did you see what happened?”
“Not really,” I give a small shrug, like I’m still trying to catch up. “He was already in the water when I got there.” His attention sweeps over me for a moment before he nods and moves on.
I glance briefly toward the crowd, my eyes landing on Sierra for a fraction of a second before shifting away again. She looks… broken. Far from the girl I saw earlier.
Tess is suddenly in front of me, and before I even get the chance to move, she wraps her arms around my torso like she doesn’t even think about it.
“Oh my God… Cain,” her voice shakes. “Thank you… for trying…”
After a short pause, I rest a hand on her back, giving her a light squeeze.
“I got to him as fast as I could,” I say quietly, not adding anything more than that.
She nods against me, holding on for another moment before pulling back, her eyes glossy as she wipes at them.
“I told her you’d help… I knew you would.”
I give a small nod, letting her step away, my attention already shifting past her. Sierra hasn’t moved, still standing near the pool, staring at the same spot like nothing else around her matters.
I walk over without rushing, stopping a step away from her.
“I’m sorry, Sierra.” I keep my tone even. “He was already under when I got there.”
She doesn’t react. Not even a flicker.
My eyes shift toward Vince before returning to her, searching for something—anything—to crack through that expression.
“I tried,” I add, more out of habit than anything else.
Nothing. She doesn’t look at me, doesn’t move.
I let it sit like that for a moment, then shift back, not pushing it, not waiting for a response. There’s nothing else to say. And honestly… saying more would just make it worse.