Chapter 9 #2
So I stay quiet because we're broken in a way that apologies don't fix. I just watch him pace, back and forth, kicking the same patch of sand. Until he stops, turns, and his eyes burn into mine.
"You broke me," he spits out, jagged. "You broke me in a way you'll never understand."
It knocks me back because maybe I won't understand but damn me, I see it—the brutal hurt in his eyes that wasn't there before. It feels like a claw on my throat, stealing my breath, because I would never want to...
"Ben... I didn't know. I'm—"
"You couldn't call before you said yes? Talk to me?
!" He cuts me off, steps closer, his face fierce.
"I had to see it online. Your engagement photo.
Your smile. His goddamn hand around you!
" He curls his fists, shoulders bristling.
"And me, what? Blocked. Erased. Everywhere.
I couldn't even reach you! You know what that did to me? You're vicious!"
My scream tears out, feral. "I AM vicious? You had eight weeks." I jab a finger at him. "EIGHT WEEKS to text or call after our fight! You ghosted! Like always!"
"You told me to delete your number! Said you didn't want to see my face!"
"Stop blaming me!" My fists curl so hard my nails bite skin. "I spent years—years—trying to decode every look. Every word. What I meant. Where the hell I even stood with you!"
He barks a harsh laugh. "Oh yeah? Well, where do you stand now? 'Cause from where I'm standing, you're on a private cliff with me, looking like a goddamn piece of candy, and you're yelling at me. At me!" His hands slam his chest. "The only person who's ever actually understood you."
I freeze, wanting to tell him to shut up, that he has no idea what's tearing through me, and I'm not good at holding that magnitude, but he keeps firing.
"So sure," he spits, breath ragged, eyes narrowed. "No mistakes? Right?"
"You know what? I'm done with you!" I spit fire and sprint toward the cliff edge.
"You're not!" His voice lashes after me. "Just admit it!"
"What?!"
"You can't stop thinking about me!"
"You wish!"
Wings thrash from the rocks, birds fleeing a storm they never saw coming—me. I run over the rock, trying not to slip.
"And even if I did ever think about you," I scream from the top of my lungs, "doesn't mean I want you back!"
A beat.
Then his shout slices through the air, lethal: "I hate you! And don't forgive you!"
"Perfect!" I shriek, heart exploding. "Then we're even!"
His voice curdles, like he's been holding this for years: "Not that you'd ever apologize. Of course not! That would mean you're not actually perfect." He spits the last word.
He's the one to talk about apologies! I rip my dress off and fling it behind me, my skin prickling from the ocean breeze.
"One photo of an old friend—my ass," I shout over my shoulder.
Silence.
He must be stunned.
I'm running forward, stripped down to my lace underwear and completely out of my senses.
Then his voice comes back, strained, a thread of concern woven through it. "Where the hell are you going? Come back! Right now! It's deep. The currents—"
"You don't tell me what to do," I say, only half to him. "I'm not yours. Never been."
"Emma, stop." His fury breaks into something more serious. I hear him move behind me, but I'm already stepping closer to the edge, toes curling into stone as I look down.
The ocean snarls below with dark, cold, merciless waves crashing everything.
It's scary.
But at least it's honest.
At least it doesn't pretend to love me.
Wind claws at my hair, like it's trying to drag me back.
Too late.
I suck in air so sharp it cuts—and leap.
"Emma!" Ben's voice rips through my bones, following me down before the water swallows me whole.
The ocean hits like ice fire, so much colder than what I expected. And instantly—pain. The current smashes me against the rocks, drags me under, then spits me up again. Salt stings my eyes, filling even my mouth.
There's a sting in my ribs that burns through my chest, but I don't have time to focus on it since I'm smacking my arms around, trying to keep myself above the water.
Another pull-down as I barely manage to suck in some air.
The green-black water spins me like a rag-doll while I claw at anything, kicking, panicking. I don't even know where I am, how deep I am, and I keep being slammed against the cliff.
But in the depths of that darkness, the real panic hits.
Shit, what have I done? Ben hates the water, ever since saving Mara. It's the only place that steals his power. He can't help me. He can only watch—watch me drowning.
God. I hope he doesn't come, because I don't deserve it. I'm stupid, and cruel, and I hate myself so much now, I'd rather die.
I thrash upward, break the surface, gag a breath. Just a second before the next wave slaps me around, rips me from the rocks, and tears me into the open ocean.
I spin into the horizon, kicking and trying to swim back, but the ocean is stronger, so much stronger, and I have no chance. The water sucks me into its open throat.
So this is it. This is how it ends.
There's almost something poetic about how this situation reflects my nightmares, but this is worse because I dragged Ben into it, and I will never forgive myself.
Much, much worse—I won't forgive myself for never telling him the truth.
That I didn't mean all those things. That I was just angry, tired, and so full of heartache, I didn't know where to put it all.
That once I might have had some feelings for him, even though I'm not ready to name them. .. but he'll never know that.
I choke through the brine and wipe the salt from my eyes, but more is coming. The water’s freezing; my body’s going into shock. I look up just as another wave comes, knowing I'm gone.
And then—impact.
A wall of heat. A massive body.
Ben.
Before I can even think, his arm wraps around my ribs, crushing me into him until I feel him everywhere and his voice rasps against my ear: "I've got you."
He's here. In the water. I touch his arm around my chest as proof and finally manage a shallow breath. The fear retreats instantly even as the water slaps and roars around us and I don't even know if he knows how to swim.
Of course, he does. He hauls us through, one arm dragging, every muscle coiled, refusing to yield even though the water fights him back. He's a fighter, with incredible strength, but I can feel his jaw straining against my face, feel him struggling.
"Ben—" I rasp, trying to twist free so he can use both hands. "Let me—I can—"
"You're not going anywhere," he says, and his grip locks.
So much, I swear he'll break my ribs.
A gasp escapes me—more like a whimper. But I don't say anything because he came anyway, and I'd rather be crushed by him than anything else.
The water bucks us under and his fingers dig into my ribs to make sure the water doesn't drag me away again.
I swallow the panic invading my throat before he hauls us both above the surface and grunts.
Then he starts powering through the water again, his muscles coiled so much I'm afraid they'll snap.
The cliff looms ominously just as a wave smacks us forward and we tangle in the sea-spray, limbs catching.
Ouch—slamming into him hurts almost as much as hitting the rocks.
Ben shields me from the next current, his hand clawing at the rock until every tendon stands out, while the other hand pushes me upward above his head, helping me crawl out.
Another wave smacks hard into him, but he fights to stay put and with one final heave, he shoves me upward until my knees scrape the sand.
I collapse—gasping, coughing salt. My chest burns like fire; my eyes sting.
It takes me a beat for my brain to realize I'm out, so it stops panicking.
When I raise my head, Ben's there, pulling himself up beside me, soaked, jeans sticking to him like a second skin. He falls to his knees with head bowed, chest heaving.
I flop on my back, coughing out more saltwater, and flip my head to the side so I don't suffocate.
Damn... I almost drowned.
And he... he almost drowned for me.
"Ben." My voice rasps like I'm breathing through a straw. I try to reach for him, but my hand falls uselessly to the rock.
When he sees how weak I am, he exhales sharply, drags a hand up his face, and pushes to his feet. He walks toward me and sweeps me back in his arms, locking them tight around me.
"Ben..."
He avoids my eyes, as if he can't look at me, but carefully carries me across the slick rock, his body cold for the first time ever.
I cling to him, arms looped around his neck, blinking the salt from my eyes, and when I finally look up, I pause.
Water beads off his hair, and the sun breaks through the clouds, haloing just above his head.
I almost reach for him, touch his face, because he doesn't even look human. Maybe an angel.
Except he's agitated, and shirtless, and I don't picture angels like this. With shoulders like carved stone, lips kissable, and water streaming down the lines of his chest straight into mine.
I know I shouldn't, especially after what I've done, but I can't help it. My heart's hammering against his, in sync, and I don't want to let go.
But I have to, because he lays me down on the blanket.
Then he drops his jacket, warm from the sun, over my shoulders, and with rough hands makes sure I'm bundled up.
When he collapses beside me, he sucks in oxygen through all that adrenaline and lies there for a while, his arms splayed wide. For the first time since we hit the surf, he's mortal again.
A few more breaths, then he spits out saltwater, coughs again, and heaves himself upright. His eyes flash, staring at me like I’ve grown horns.
"What the fuck, Emma? Are you insane?!" His voice scrapes raw, like gravel. "Why couldn't you just listen for once?"
That look could split me in two.
I curl tighter, wrapping my arms around my knees to stay as small as I can.