He’s not breathing.
No, no, no.
I start CPR. Each compression feels like a battle, with my hands numb and almost blue from the cold. It’s hard to keep steady on my knees, the waves still pushing us around like we are on one of Lio’s toy boats.
I feel the weight of North’s gaze on me, his anger slowly giving way to concern. He moves closer, grabs the back of my neck, and slams a kiss to the top of my head, his lips cold against my wet hair. “Thank you.”
Without another word, he moves to the wheel, taking control of the boat.
Saylor’s voice breaks through my concentration. “Your lips are blue,” he cautions, concern evident in his voice. He glances at North. “His are too. Fuck, you need to get out of herefast, or you’ll all die of hypothermia.”
“North,” I gasp, my voice shaky like the rest of me.
“I know, Blue,” North replies, his voice hoarse. He reaches for the radio, his fingers trembling slightly.
He tries to radio the harbor, but there is no signal, only noise. North only gets through when he has navigated us closer to the shore.
“Harbor Control, this is North Jones. One of you guys out there to copy?” North’s voice is urgent but controlled. He’s still panting, and his teeth chatter, just like mine.
A crackle comes through the radio before a voice responds, “This is Harbor Control. We copy.”
“We’re on our way to harbor, have a man down, unconscious, and are in need of immediate medical assistance. Make sure you’re ready for us. We’re coming in hot, over and out.”
FORTY-ONE
The bitter coldstill clings to my bones as I shiver violently, standing by Nash’s hospital bed. North, his lips still an ominous shade of blue, has a rescue blanket wrapped around his shoulders from a paramedic but is stubbornly refusing to be treated, although we both know he absolutely should get checked out. His eyes are red from all the saltwater, and his voice is hoarse.
Nash is still unconscious, looking fragile on the white hospital sheets, his skin pale and lips just as blue as North’s. My heart aches with worry.
I risked everything, but was it enough?
I glance at North. Our eyes meet briefly, and he reaches out his hand to take mine. We’ve been through hell together today. My gaze flicks to Saylor standing on Nash’s other side, looking down at him sadly.
“I know you always wanted to be like me, but imitation isn’t good form, bro,” he tries to joke, but I can sense his worry.
You need to wake up, Nash.
The door bursts open, and Hunter rushes into the room, his eyes wild with straight-up panic. I called him when we were in the ambulance, and after he cussed me out, he took Lio to Helenand Rupert’s and rushed over here. He had to retrieve his truck from the harbor first, though.
Shit.
His eyes dart from Nash to North to me, searching for reassurance.
“Fuck. You guys okay?” Hunter asks, his voice cracking with emotion. He takes a few hurried steps forward and, without a word, pulls North and me into a desperate, fierce embrace. His warmth envelops me, a stark contrast to the frigid chill that still clings to my body.
Tears prickle at the corners of my eyes as I bury my face in Hunter’s shoulder. The room is silent except for our ragged breaths and the hum of machines monitoring Nash’s condition when the door opens again, and a doctor steps in with a soft “Good evening” to Hunter.
We already know her from when we came in with Nash. She’s the doctor who has been insisting that North should get in a bed too.
North steps back from Hunter, blinking rapidly. I want to step back, too, but Hunter doesn’t let me. He just turns me so my back is to his chest, his strong arms still wrapped protectively around me. I lean back against him, thankful for the support and the warmth.
“We’re not entirely satisfied with Nash’s current condition,” the doctor begins, her voice laced with concern. “His pulse is weak, and we’ll need to monitor it closely. He was lucky to have made it, but we can’t determine the extent of the damage until he wakes up.” I take a deep breath, trying to focus on the slow, rhythmic beeping of the heart monitor by Nash’s side. My fingers clutch Hunter’s arm, seeking reassurance.
A sudden chill runs down my neck, and panic surges through me. My heart races as I watch Nash’s chest, relieved to seehis steady breathing. But when I look back up, my eyes meet Saylor’s, and the world shatters around me.
He’s no longer translucent.
I can’t see through him anymore.
