Chapter 10 - Talia #2
His jaw tightens, his face pale beneath the anger. “Don’t play dumb. You weren’t just going for a swim.”
“I’m not playing dumb!” My voice cracks, still rough from dragging in air. “And I was going for a swim. The fact that I was literally in your pool should’ve been a pretty solid clue.”
He shakes me once, not hard, but firm enough to rattle my teeth. “You were staying under. You weren’t coming up.”
“What?” I stare at him, water dripping down my face. “I was—” I cough again, swiping at my eyes. “I was just diving.”
“Just diving?” His voice spikes. “You were down there way too long.”
“I like being underwater!” I shoot back. “It’s quiet. It’s peaceful. You should try it sometime instead of catastrophizing everything.”
“Okay. This ends now,” he says, decisive. “We’re going to the hospital. Right now. And after that, you’re talking to a therapist. I don’t care if you ‘feel like it.’ I’ll pay for it privately. Your dad doesn’t have to know.”
I blink at him.
“What are you even talking about?” I demand.
“You mustn’t kill yourself,” he says, voice low and brutal, like he’s forcing the words out through clenched teeth. “You hear me? You mustn’t.”
For a second I just stare at him, brain blank.
Then the words land.
Kill yourself.
My stomach drops so hard it feels like I’m sinking all over again.
“What?” I whisper.
Jake’s eyes are wild, and I’ve never seen him look like this. Not even when he was furious about the papers. This is different. This is fear dressed up as anger.
He swallows, throat working. “Only because I’m angry with you doesn’t mean there’s no way to be happy anymore,” he snaps. “You don’t get to decide it’s over and do something stupid because you feel cornered. Not—”
Something inside me detonates.
I shove him hard, both hands on his chest, and he stumbles back a step.
“You stupid oaf!” I scream, voice echoing off the tile and glass. “Are you actually out of your mind?”
His eyes flash. “Don’t—”
“No, you don’t get to barge in here like some hero from a bad action movie and decide I’m suicidal because I held my breath.”
“You weren’t just holding your breath.”
“Yes. I was.”
“You were limp.”
“I was floating!”
“You weren’t moving.”
“That’s how floating works, Jake!”
We’re both breathing hard now.
Angry and soaked.
Me in my underwear. Jake in a soaked T-shirt and sweatpants.
The fabric clings to him, outlining every hard line of muscle like it’s revealing secrets he’d never say out loud.
Water drips from his forearms. His hair is darker, messier, and his eyes burn with an intensity that makes it feel like he can see straight through me.
“I don’t need therapy,” I bite out.
“Everyone needs therapy,” he fires back.
“True,” I concede automatically, because honestly, fair. “But not because I went for a swim.”
He steps toward me again, water sloshing. “You were under too long.”
“I was holding my breath,” I yell. “In a pool. Because I wanted to swim.”
He glares. “People don’t just—”
“Yes, they do!” I shout. “It’s called diving, Jake. It’s called being underwater. It’s called trying to feel something other than stress for five seconds.”
His mouth opens and closes, like he has too many words and none of them fit.
I’m trembling, furious and humiliated all at once. My chest aches from dragging in air, my throat raw from coughing, and now I have to stand here half-soaked while he rants at me.
“I never wanted to kill myself,” I say, each word shaking. “I never. I just wanted to go for a swim.”
Jake’s expression shifts so fast it’s almost dizzying. Anger cracks. Something else leaks through.
Relief.
It’s ugly relief, the kind that makes his shoulders sag and his eyes go glassy for half a second before he clamps down again.
He drags a hand over his face, water clinging to his lashes. “You scared the shit out of me.”
“Well, that would certainly solve all your problems, wouldn’t it?” I shoot back, the joke edged in acid.
“Don’t. You. Dare. Say. That. To. Me.” He lands every word like a warning.
His eyes lock onto mine, sharp and unyielding. “I’m not leaving you to drown.”
I know he doesn’t mean it in a romantic way. He means it the way any decent human being refuses to let someone else come to harm.
And yet my chest tightens like it’s the sweetest thing anyone has ever promised.
I step even closer before I can stop myself, because my body is acting on something my brain hasn’t approved.
Jake’s eyes drop to my mouth.
My breath catches.
I’m still in my underwear. Water clings to my skin. His gaze flickers down my body and then back up like he’s trying to be respectful and failing.
The tension between us stretches so tight it feels like it might snap the air in half.
We’re both breathing hard.
We’re both angry.
We’re both… something else.
I stare at him, and everything inside me shifts. The rage doesn’t vanish, but it changes shape. It turns molten.
My heartbeat slows into something heavier. Deeper.
Jake stares back, soaked and furious and alive, like he’s fighting himself and losing.
And then, without planning it, without permission, I surge forward and press my mouth to his.