“I’m t-trying, but I?—”
“Try harder,” he says in a stern voice, though he’s not being rude about it. More so direct. “You’re trying to convince yourself that you’re in danger right now because you’re feeling similar things to that day, but this is different. You didn’t fall into the water. Youwillingly walkedto where you are right now. And you’re not alone.”
I understand what he’s trying to tell me—that I’m in control, that I’m safe.
Even though it’s the last thing I feel.
“I’m here with you.”
“I don’t know why you are,” I randomly mutter. “You should be in your office.Weshould be there.”
His hands brush over my arms, and it’s then that I realize he can’t feel the bottom either with the way he touches me, the water ebbing and flowing around us when I peek an eye open and cling to him. I’m so swept up in being out here again that I don’t think—I just twine my arms around his neck as I tread water.
“There are lots of things we should be doing, but right now, we’re doing this because you’re important, Emory. You’re also strong and resilient. Believe in yourself.”
I scoff, then swallow through the nerves continuously sparking off inside of me as water laps at my arms. “That’s what you think.”
“That’s what I know.”
My words are whispered in defeat when I say, “I don’t see how.”
“Look around you,” he says on a breath. It almost feels like he pulls me closer, though I can’t really tell if that’s him or the current. “You’ve been having debilitating nightmares about this very thing, and yet, here you are—swimming in the Atlantic. Because you aren’t willing to let your trauma define you or rule your life.”
I blink.
Holy shit.
“I-I’m swimming in the ocean.”
He nods, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
“You are, and what a beautiful fucking sight it is to see you thrive under the weight of what tried to destroy you.”
I laugh at that moment. Loudly. Ridiculously.
I almost can’t believe I’m doing it. That I’m overcoming a fear that felt so deeply intertwined with my being.
“If it weren’t for you?—”
“No,” he says. “If it weren’t foryou.”
I bite the corner of my lip, emotion clawing at the back of my throat, and look around me. A few people are milling about when I look back at the beach. Ironically, we’re not very far out. It was just my mind telling me we were.
This is a huge step forward for me, a bright light in the direction I want to keep moving in. And I will, because I havewhat it takes. Today has shown me that, even if I don’t plan on coming out here on my own for awhile yet.
Minutes go by without us speaking. I continue to hold onto Dawson, enjoying the feel of his muscles below my palms as time fades away and the setting sun beats down on us.
I’m still tense, but my body relaxes some. I realize it probably has a lot to do with the man who’s out here with me, the man who has willingly made me a priority. I know, down to my bones, that he doesn’t do this with everyone. There’s no way in hell he lets all his clients cling to him like a goddamn koala because they’re dead scared of slipping away and being claimed by the Mariana Trench.
Laughter ricochets, and I jerk in surprise.
“It’s okay,” Dawson reassures me. “Just a few kids running around in the sand.”
I nod, our gazes one as I murmur, “Please don’t pull away. Not yet.”
“I won’t, honey.” His hand comes up and palms the back of my head, gently caressing my scalp through strands of reddish-brown hair. “I’ve got you. Just breathe and enjoy what it feels like to conquer the parts of you that were once helpless.”
“Can I tell you a secret?” I ask.
