There was no possible way for Lance and his family to know the connection Dawson and I would share. But now that it’s there, I’m afraid there’s nothing I’ll be able to do to stop it.
14
EMORY
Istare out at the waters ahead, a frigid chill sweeping down my spine, thanks to my nerves. It’s somewhere in the mid-eighties. With summer slowly fading and autumn trying to take over, Coralhaven has been stuck in this hazy purgatory between both seasons, especially in the late afternoon.
The sun hangs above the horizon, glimmering like a tangerine beam, its rays pointing and laughing at me. Humiliation sneaks in, embarrassment coloring my cheeks in a way that would have anyone thinking it’s from sweat.
Oh, how wrong they are.
The man beside me stands tall against the wind that pushes off the waves. He’s a brick wall made by one of the best masonry men in the world.
While I…am the opposite.
I’m deathly close to breaking, to shattering to pieces and being swept away by the surf as I face down today’s exposure therapy session. It’s the only time I’ve seen Dawson two times in one day—once for my regular appointment and again for this meetup.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I whisper, my heartbeat pounding. It’s almost all I can hear as anxiousness sweeps through me.
Something skims against my hand, and I glance down to find Dawson’s entire palm enveloping mine. I almost allow myself to take a breath.
His voice is gentle, not at all commanding. “You can do this. The ocean isn’t your enemy, Emory.”
“No? Then what is?”
I can feel his stare on the side of my face when he says, “You are.”
“You almost sound like them.”
Like Lance. Larissa. And those other voices that penetrate through my dreams, convincing me that what happened is all my fault—not because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but because I wanted to fall into that water and have all the air stolen from my lungs.
“They’re wrong,” I mutter, as if I haven’t already told him this. “This isn’t what I wanted.”
“I know that.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as tears collect in the corners of them. I’m fragile in this moment, just an outline of the human being I once was. God, I wish I had my old self back. The one that was built with confidence and sureness undertow. The one who knew how to get through difficulties without her whole nervous system shutting down.
Dawson steps forward. We’re not that far from the water. Every half minute or so, the sudsy waters rush up as high as they can go. They’re calm compared to the day I went out on those rocks, but still, my chest heaves with insecurity as I tread ahead.
I open my eyes and yank my wrist free from Dawson’s grasp.
His gaze stays trained on me, but all I can see is what’s directly ahead—a deep blue limitless stretch of sea.
“No, no, I…”
Dawson doesn’t push me. He just casually stands there, sans shirt, looking devilishly handsome. My eyes track his bronzed skin, and when they drop to his chiseled abdomen, I spot the discolored skin that looks a lot like a scar.
He must notice my gaze set there because he says, “I needed to have one of my kidneys removed as an unexpected result from the stabbing. One of them was punctured, and there was no way for them to repair it.”
My eyes move back up to his. “That must have been…ungodly scary.”
He shrugs. “It certainly wasn’t as enjoyable as eating a piece of birthday cake, but I got through it. Just like you will with this.”
“I don’t know…”
“What you went through was an accident that almost ended in tragedy, but you are safe, Emory. Your heart is beating, and your lungs are breathing in the salty air surrounding us.” He sucks in a sharp breath, pulling in a deep inhale to encourage me to do the same. “Feel what it’s like to live without the constraints of your fears tackling you to the ground.”
I breathe in, but it’s nothing compared to Dawson’s inhale. “My fears feel insurmountable. Like there’s nothing I can do to overcome them. Jesus, I’m right back in my bedroom. Back in those nightmares where water fills the room, and I can’t escape.”
