Page 143 of Stealing Blinds

Weightless and free. Fight or flight. Noise and wind and bright golden rays that are blinding and cozy and battering at once.

A hammering heart and a soul left behind.

Then silence and darkness and a cold that pierces my marrow.

My skin itches, the nicks and cuts stinging from the seawater.

Everything is muted. Bubbles. Pressure. The shove to go deeper.

It feels familiar in a way I can’t explain, like this is where I was meant to be, to let go. If he’s gone, what waits for me on the surface?

I can’t rise to that world.

For a split second, I allow myself to sink into the abyss of the pain I know too well. My muscles droop. My lungs burn. My throat practically closes on the sob I can’t release. Every cell of my being soaks in the endlessness of salt and surrender.

I shake the thought from my head. I have my backpack. The drive. Rena needs that. And I can climb back to Cash. I’ll get to him.

Why did he throw me? We were together.

“Love you, Sly. I’ll always be your way.” He was saying goodbye and promising to be my way through the metaphorical flames, to save me like he couldn’t manage for his mom in his nightmare.

And how will he pull that off from the afterlife? If he’s alive, I’ll kill him for not jumping with us.

What if he didn’t survive? I can’t …

And so the circle goes. Round and round as I bob in the depths, welcoming a cocoon of chilling finality. Fish and coral and my sodden defeat.

Hands grip me beneath my arms, dragging me toward the light. It takes a beat for me to choose to help, but I remember that many rescuers drown, trying to save a victim. So, I kick.

The bubbles around us create buoyancy that nudges me upward too. And in a blink, we breach the surface. It’s nearly as jarring as entry was. Stark and blinding. As oxygen fills my lungs with an alarming gasp, I’m walloped with conflicting sensations.

Relief and regret.

I heave several breaths, and Jax stares at me before he shields his eyes from the sun and glances at where we jumped.

“He shouldn’t have done that,” I squeak out, swimming toward shore. “We need to get back to him. He’s alone.”

He dives below, popping up in front of me to block my route, urgency swirling in his hazels. “He’s not alone. We have to go.” When he notes the tears welling in my eyes, he mirrors my regret. “The people shooting—it’s you they’re after. They’ll find us.” He slicks his hair back, the pale blue blending with sky and sea, but his resolve is evident. “Take a breath. We need to swim to the other side of that rock formation.”

He doesn’t wait for me to respond. He prods my back until I comply and swim beneath the water toward the tall rocks, jutting high into the air almost two hundred yards from us. My bones ache with every stroke.

We emerge out of sight from the island, and I rest against the scraggy veneer of our hideout. Both of us pant for breath, but the exertion has nothing on the loss. The sun sears into my retinas, so I cover my face and fall apart. And he lets me.

For several minutes, I weep and shake and try to make sense of what comes next as wave after wave slams against us.

He finally lifts my chin, an unspoken plea scrawled all over his face. “The rescue boat isn’t far from here. I have to get you to the train.”

The drop. The plan. The call.

This is the prison cell.

“I don’t want to go on without him.” A wail that is barely human leaves me, thunder quaking in my chest. “Please don’t ask me to. I can’t.”

Where does this fall in the advice that my father gave me? Did I want too much?

Greed equals ruin.

Time is fleeting. Freedom is intangible. Prestige has no place when I’m drifting in the Mediterranean Sea. And family?