I retreat a few steps, needing the distance between us as the storm continues to hammer the boat we’re on. I should be afraid, but it’s nothing compared to the turmoil tearing me up inside.
“Stop saying what? The truth? Is it too hard to hear? You were always too good for me, Zane! I was always trouble!” I retreat another couple of steps.
“Stop saying that!” he bellows.
I close my eyes and take a deep breath. “Everyone else sees what you’re too stubborn to.”
“And what’s that?”
“That you would be better off if you’d never met me.”
He moves forward, and I step away. The backs of my legs hit something, though, and I fall backward—into the raging sea. There’s a split second of shock before I’m painfully aware of the danger I’m in.
The scream barely has enough time to leave me before the cold water wraps around me, its icy fingers ready to pull me down into the stormy depths. I kick, trying to fight my way to the surface, but the searing pain in my leg makes it nearly impossible to do much else.
My lungs burn. Spots invade my vision.
And then, strong arms come around me, and I’m propelled out of the water. I suck in a ragged breath as Zane swims us both back to the tanning ledge of his boat. My hand grips the ladder, and he shoves me up, holding me steady as I climb.
As soon as I’m out of the water, I collapse, my body shaking violently. Zane pushes out of the water, his expression unreadable as he reaches down and gathers me into his arms, then shifts me so he can get up the ladder and onto the main deck.
I keep my eyes closed as the rain continues to pelt us.
Zane doesn’t stop once we’re out of the storm; he continues down into his room, sliding the door open and stepping into the small bathroom. It’s barely large enough for both of us when he sets me down on top of the closed toilet seat.
“What are you doing. I’m f-f-fine,” I stammer.
“You’re going to get hypothermia if we don’t warm you up slowly. For once, Tessa, stop fighting, and just accept the help!” There’s a desperation in his voice that wasn’t there before, and it silences me as the water from his shower comes on.
I can barely keep my eyes open; my body is trembling so hard in his arms. The cold has seeped down through my bones and might as well be wrapping around my heart—ready to stop it for good.
Zane reaches in and tests the temperature, then gathers me back into his strong arms and steps beneath the spray. The heat is searing even though I know the temperature is barely above lukewarm.
“Keep breathing, Tessa,” he says.
I rest my head against his shoulder and take a breath, but it’s shallow. My chest is just so heavy. Exhaustion tugs on me.
“Just a few more seconds, okay? Then we’ll get you dry.”
The seconds tick by, but I can’t even begin to care. Because being held in Zane’s strong arms is more than I ever thought I’d get to experience again. It’s all I’ve dreamt of. All I’ve wanted.
But not at all what I can have.
He turns the water off, then carries me out and sets me back on top of the toilet before wrapping a towel around me. “I’m going to get you warm clothes.” He leaves for a moment, then returns with a pair of sweats and a sweater that Anastasia brought me.
After setting them on the counter, he steps out and closes the door behind him, though I know he stays right where he can hear me.
My fingers are shaking so violently that I can barely grip the hem of the t-shirt and pull it over my body. I toss it to the floor, and it makes a loud slap. The sweatshirt is soft against my skin but offers no warmth when I put it on.
With a hand on the counter to steady me, I try to slip the shorts down.
My legs give out, and I fall over toward the side, barely catching myself on the wall.
“Are you okay?”
“Y-y-yes,” I stammer. Thankfully, the cold has numbed the pain in my leg, so with careful precision, I’m able to slip out of the shorts and pull the sweats on. My hair is soaking wet, though, and no amount of towel drying is pushing away the chill in my bones. “D-d-done,” I call out, afraid to move just in case I fall again.
The door slides open, and Zane moves into the small space, having already changed into a t-shirt and dry pajama pants.
