Chapter 30
Kayla
The sun’s starting to dip behind the trees, painting the river in streaks of gold and rose. I sit on a smooth rock near the riverbank, shoes off and toes submerged in the cool current. The water feels nice. Calming. It’s exactly what I need after a long ride and a hot summer day.
Ben crouches nearby, throwing pebbles into the river and then asking if I saw it after every throw. “That one skipped two times,” he said proudly. “Almost three. Did you see it?”
I smile, watching him. “I did. I think you’re ready for the big leagues.”
He turns his head and grins, his cheeks flushed and hair sticking up in a million directions. “I’m gonna beat Dad’s record.”
“Better not let him hear you say that.”
Ben laughs and tosses another pebble. This one sinks with a pitiful plop, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Behind us, Colt’s busy getting a fire setup and cooking us dinner.
My job is to keep Ben busy and look pretty. Colt’s words, not mine.
“I think that cloud looks like a dragon,” Ben says, pointing skyward.
I lean back on my elbows, squinting at the sky. “Ooh, I see it. A sleepy one, though.”
“Like you in the morning.”
I gasp in mock offense. “I am not sleepy—I’m serene. Like Sleeping Beauty.”
He giggles so hard he almost falls sideways. “You’re grumpy.”
“Rude.” I toss a pebble at his feet, and he sticks his tongue out at me.
He steps from one large rock to the next, staring up at the sky and pointing out random clouds.
His imagination is one to be reckoned with.
He sees bears, and dragons, and Mary Poppins, and in between cloud watching, he perfects his pebble throwing.
I’m just about to stand and suggest we head back when it happens.
A splash. A yelp. Then silence.
My heart stops. “Ben?”
Then I see him. In the river. Floating, flailing. The current has him.
This is all my fault.
I’m in the water before I can think.
The shock of the cold punches the air from my lungs. I go under, choke, then kick my way to the surface. The rocks beneath my feet are gone, the water surprisingly deep.
I guess this is what swimming is.
“Ben!” I shout. “Hold on!”
He looks at me, eyes wide with fear. His legs whip around as he forces himself to remain afloat. “I’m okay,” he calls, but he isn’t. Not really. The river is pulling him further down the valley, away from me and his father, and he’s not strong enough to fight it. Not big enough.
I reach for him, barely managing to grab hold of his shirt. I swallow another mouthful of water. “I’ve got you,” I say, breathless. “I’ve got you, it’s okay.”
And then I realize something that hadn’t occurred to me in my blind panic.
I can’t swim. Not really. Not well. Not in a river.
I’m no better off than Ben against this current.
My arms burn. My throat is sore. Everything in me is just screaming to stop.
But I can’t. Not with Ben relying on me.
“Ben, I’m going to throw you over the current,” I tell the little boy, shouting over the rapids. “And then you’re going to swim to the shore. Okay?”
It’s a dumb plan. There’s a chance I won’t be strong enough to throw Ben as far as he needs to go to get out of the current.
But I have to try.
I can’t keep both of us up, and I certainly can’t get both of us out of the current.
“Okay,” Ben gasps, just as tired and burnt out.
“Okay. On three. One. Two.” I use the last shred of adrenaline and throw him, thanking God that he’s one of the smaller eight-year-olds in Castlebrook.
My head goes under the water. I swallow more water. And then I’m shot out of the current.
“Kayla!”
Colter.
His voice is rough, terrified.
I don’t look at him. I look for Ben. I search for his little body, praying he’s made it out of the currents and to safer waters.
His blonde head bobs above the water, and he gives it his all, heading directly for his father on shore. Colt bends down, scooping his son into his arms and hugging him. And then I lose sight of them both.
The water bubbles over my head, and water fills my mouth. My hair tangles over my eyes, but if I try to brush it away, I know I won’t make it back to the surface.
My feet touch the stony river bed, and I push up with all my strength.
And then, out of nowhere, arms wrap around me. Strong, steady, unyielding.
Colter.
He drags me to shore, half-carrying, half-hauling. My knees hit the muddy grass, and I collapse, coughing, choking, shaking. I hear Ben crying, hear Colter saying something I couldn’t quite process.
I roll onto my side, sucking in air like I’ve never tasted it before. My whole body is trembling.
And then the pressure in my ear bursts, and I hear him.
“What the fuck were you thinking?”
I looked up at Colter, still gasping. “He fell. I had to do something.”
“You can’t swim, Kayla.” His voice cracks. “You can’t swim, and you jumped in anyway. What the hell were you trying to do? Get yourself killed?”
“He needed help,” I say, my throat raw. “The currents were too strong.”
“You could’ve yelled for me. You could’ve waited!”
“There wasn’t time!” There wasn’t, right? It all seemed to happen so fast, but looking back on it now, it seems like it took an eternity to get us both to safety.
I sit up slowly, legs still trembling, and look him straight in the eye. Colt’s jaw clenches, eyes blazing. Ben’s tucked himself under my arm now, soaked and sniffling, but safe. I look at him, really look, assessing the damage, then I tighten my hold on him, pulling his trembling body closer.
We use each other for comfort.
“I could’ve lost you,” Colt grinds out, quieter now. Almost hoarse. “Jesus, Kayla. I came to get you two, and you were gone. Just gone. And then I saw you out there and—” he stops. Looks away. His Adam's Apple bobs as he swallows thickly.
My eyes burn. “I didn’t even think about it,” I whisper. “I just saw him fall, and I ran. I know I was stupid, but I couldn’t let him go under. I know he’s not mine, but I love him like he is. I needed to protect him.”
His expression shifts, something breaking open behind his eyes. He drops to his knees beside me, engulfing Ben and me in the comfort of his arms. “You scared the hell out of me,” he says. “Don’t do that again.” His voice breaks. “Please.”
I nod. “Fine by me.” I could go my whole life without ever having to get in that river again. I lean into him, wet and cold and shaking, but somehow steadier with him there.
“We’re putting you in swimming lessons,” Colt whispers against my forehead.
“As long as it’s in a pool.”
“I’ll text Delia tomorrow.”