23. June
June
The last thing I see as my head is pulled under the water is Simon jumping in after me.
Simon—the man who is terrified of water and who cannot swim.
My shoulder screams from the bullet that grazed me, but it’s nothing compared to the panic coursing through me at knowing Simon is here, somewhere, fighting for his life.
I burst through the surface of the water and suck in a gasping breath of air, frantically searching the surface for any sign of him. I thank a god I don’t really believe in for sending us in near a loading area, giving us the docks as somewhat of a concealment from the men after us.
But none of that will matter if I cannot find him.
I dive under, my blood no doubt pooling around me, and crane my eyes through the darkness to spot him. I swim in circles and ignore the pain radiating in my body. I will cover every inch of this fucking bay to find him or I will die trying. Leaving him behind is not an option.
Erupting to the top again, I scan and scan. My heart picks up its pace as the men’s feet shuffle against the pavement near us.
That’s when I spot him, face down, his body floating along the water.
I gasp and swim faster than I ever have toward him, wrapping my arm around him and dragging him out of sight and under the pier.
It’s everything I can do to move him, but with the adrenaline in my veins, I make it happen.
“Simon,” I whisper, moving the hair from his lifeless face. “Stay with me, Simon.”
“I shot the bitch!” one of the guys calls out. “If she ain’t above the water yet, she’s fucking dead.”
“You don’t fucking know that, Harold.”
Harold. Another name to add to the list of men to kill.
I hug Simon tightly to my side and keep him afloat as I hold my breath and wait for them to leave. If I try to resuscitate Simon now, it will only bring attention to us and ensure that we both die.
“They’re both gone. Now let’s go clean up the fucking mess they made. We’ll send a team to recover their bodies so we can get paid.”
A lifetime passes, and finally, they decide to leave.
I don’t move for a full minute, and when I do, silent tears roll down my cheeks. I shake Simon’s limp body and move us out from under the pier. I try to lift him up, but it’s impossible from this angle. I’m not strong enough to get him out of the water without any assistance.
“Simon!” I pound on his chest and kick my feet to tread water.
“Do not leave me, damn it.” I hit him harder, the full brunt of my weak fist clobbering him.
I hold onto the edge of the pier with one hand, and with one arm under his to keep him up, I suck in a breath and press my lips to his, pushing air into his lungs.
My injured arm gives out and he slips from my grasp. I fight through the agony and latch onto him again. “Simon, please. Come back to me.” I sniffle through the sobs bubbling out of me. “I’ll do anything, just please don’t leave me.”
Simon flinches, his eyes flicking back and forth. He spits out water and coughs, his gaze frantic as life finally returns to him.
I burst into more tears and struggle to keep my hold on him. “Simon.”
“Love,” he mutters and reaches up to grab onto the pier to hold himself steady. “I thought I lost you.”
“I thought I lost you!” I cry.
Water splashes up onto our faces.
“Where did they go?”
“They’re gone,” I say breathlessly.
“Let’s get out of here.” Simon climbs out first, his soaked clothes clinging to his body. He reaches out, offering me his hand.
I take it and allow him to pull me out of the water because I don’t think I could have gotten out by myself. My left arm hangs to my side and blood spills out of the wound.
“Christ, Love.” Simon presses his palm to it. “Can you apply pressure for a second?”
I nod.
He removes his hand and pulls his shirt over his head, exposing his muscular upper half. Simon rips the fabric and ties it around my biceps to stop the bleeding. “Here, that should hold you over until I can get you to a doctor.”
“Okay,” is all I say, because there are too many things running through my mind right now to focus on any single one.
I thought we were going to die. I thought Simon was going to die. I thought I was holding his dead body above the water and that he was never going to come back to me.
But at that moment, I realized exactly how much I cannot live without him. And that alone leaves me riddled with fucking guilt. I never meant to feel this way. It’s forbidden. Simon is my boyfriends' enemy, and he is my bodyguard. This wasn't supposed to be anything else.
I’m not even entirely sure if these are romantic feelings, but whatever this is, I cannot fathom the idea of living in a world where he is not.
Is this how he felt when I was bleeding out in his lap? Helpless, terrified, infuriated.
“Can you walk?” He steadies his grip on my shoulder and stares into my eyes.
Tears roll down my cheeks, and there is nothing I can do to make them stop.
“Are you in pain somewhere else? What’s wrong?” Simon wildly looks for another source of my torment.
“I—I…”
“What is it, love?”
“Let’s get out of here,” I tell him. There isn’t time for me to have a mental breakdown when those who wish us dead are still so near and more are on their way. It won’t be long before their recovery team arrives and finds us very much alive.
“Together?” He wipes at my cheeks with his thumbs.
“Together.”
Simon weaves his hand through mine and leads us out of this death trap.
We walk in silence for a few minutes until we arrive at a street.
“Come on, love. I think I know where we are.” Simon tugs me across the empty street and onto a sidewalk. He makes a beeline through a residential neighborhood, cutting through backyards instead of leading us down the road.
My pace slows as the energy leaves my body. I don’t mean to, but I trip over my own feet.
Simon catches me before I can hit the ground. “We can take a break, love. Here.” He shifts me toward a picnic table in an unsuspecting person’s yard. He kneels in front of me and rests his head on my leg. “This is all my fault.”
I blink at him. “What?”
Simon glances up at me. “I should have protected you. I failed you, love. And I am so sorry.”
“Would you stop blaming yourself?” I tilt his face up toward mine.
“This is not your fault. If anything, it’s mine.
I’m the one who stormed off. You got hurt because of me.
Because I got mad and left like a child and demanded space.
Hell, it’s just as much their fault as it is mine.
” I steady in a breath to calm my raging nerves.
“I’m the one who’s sorry, Simon. I haven’t exactly made your job easy. ”
“My job?” Simon leans back. “Is that what you think this is? Me doing my job? June, love, I would do anything for you.”
“Because of your obligation to me, yeah. I know.”
“No.” He shakes his head, his hair still dripping wet. “If you, for one second, think this has to do with anything other than my feelings for you, you're mistaken."
“Your feelings for me?” I laugh. “Simon, you’re forced to be with me. And the only reason you think you want me is because you can’t have me.”
“Is that so?” Simon stands and runs his hand over his face. “Is that why I know more about you than anyone else?”
I sigh. “Because you pay attention, that’s your job.”
“It’s my job to notice the anguish you’ve felt these last six months?
That you’ve lost weight because of the stress you’re under.
That you have nightmares almost every night and the only thing that stops the tremors is when I sneak into your room and hold you.
It’s my job to see that you prefer the color green over anything else, and that wearing red lipstick gives you more confidence than you already have?
It’s my job to recognize you have a bigger heart than you let on, and despite being this raging bitch on the outside, you’re a hopeless fucking romantic?
Being alone in nature is what calms your wild mind, and holding a knife in your grasp is how you cope with losing that control to some asshole who held you hostage. ”
He lowers himself back down and presses his hands around mine.
“You think I don’t see the struggle when you look at me?
That fleeting moment when you consider what your life would have been like if you would have met me first?
You think I don’t beat myself up about it daily, knowing that I could have been the one you loved instead of them?
You think I don’t want to blow my fucking brains out every time they touch you, knowing damn well that I’ll never be that lucky.
But I choose not to because this, whatever this is, is better than nothing at all. ”
“Simon, I…”
He draws in a long breath and exhales. “I would never ask you to feel the same, but do not for a moment question whether my love for you is based on something so foolish as a job position. I do not get paid for this. They’ve tried.
But I refuse. I do this because I cannot stand the idea of someone else spending each day with you.
There is no one else that cares more about your life than me, and I have failed you. For that, I’m so goddamn sorry, love.”
This is the moment where I finally take all those months’ worth of pent-up tension and press my lips to his and taste the sweetness of his kiss. I would wrap my fingers in his hair and let him pull me close, our bodies smashed together after what has felt like a lifetime of push and pull.
But I can’t. Not like this. Not now. Not when it’s still so wrong to cross that line.
Simon wraps his hand around mine. “Come on. We only have a little farther to go.”