Page 31 of The Maine Event (Romancing the Workplace #2)

I let go of the oars and cup my hands, trying to scoop up handfuls of water to throw back into the river.

I swallow hard, trying to quell the rising panic. The boat is sinking, the crack widening before my eyes, water pouring in faster than I can bail it out.

“We’re going to be okay,” I manage, my voice sounding far calmer than I feel. “Just hold on to me, alright?”

Chloe nods, her face pale, her eyes wide and trusting. I pull her close, my mind racing, searching for a solution, a way out. But the shore is too far, the water too cold, and the boat is sinking fast.

As the water laps at our ankles, as the boat begins to tilt beneath us, all I can do is hold Chloe tighter and pray that help will come, before it’s too late.

“Chloe, check your life vest! Hurry!” I shout. My hands tremble as I check the straps and clasps of my own vest, the urgency making my movements clumsy.

Chloe scrambles to the back of the boat, nearly losing her footing on the slippery floor.

“I’m scared, Rachel,” she whimpers, her voice quivering.

“I know, sweetie. But we’re going to be alright.” I try to infuse my words with a confidence I don’t feel. The icy water is now up to our shins, the boat groaning and listing heavily to one side. “We’re going to have to jump into the water, okay? On the count of three.”

Chloe nods, her face a mask of fear and determination. She grips my hand tightly, her small fingers icy cold. I try to calm the frantic pounding of my heart.

“One… two… three!”

We leap from the sinking boat, plunging into the frigid water. The shock steals my breath, the cold seizing my muscles. For a terrifying moment, I’m disoriented, unsure which way is up. But then my life vest buoys me to the surface, and I break through, gasping and sputtering.

“Chloe!” I call out, my voice raw with fear. “Chloe, where are you?”

A small hand grabs mine, and I nearly sob with relief. Chloe clings to me, her teeth chattering, her face ghostly pale. Behind us, the boat slips under the surface, leaving only ripples in its wake.

We bob in the water, adrenaline and fear coursing through our veins. The shore in either direction seems impossibly far away, the water stretching out in an endless expanse. But we’re alive. We’re together. And somehow, someway, we’ve got to move. Got to make it to land.

I wrap my arm around Chloe, holding her close. “Just hold on to me,” I say, my voice shaking. “We’re going to be okay. I promise.”

And as we float there, two small figures in the vast, unforgiving river, I can only hope that it’s a promise I can keep.

I kick my legs, adjusting to accommodate Chloe, and head for the shore. But as hard as I kick, we don’t seem to be going forward.

If anything, we’re going sideways.

It seems the current has other ideas and continues its relentless pursuit towards the ocean. I roll onto my back, and, using the buoyancy of the life preserver, drag Chloe over so that she can hold me around the chest. Switching to froggy style, I feel like I have more power behind each kick.

Stroke. Stroke. Stroke . I remember the words from my swimming lessons all those years ago.

The teacher’s simple instructions were shouted down to all the students in the water.

But that was a swimming pool, temperature controlled, without tides, without any movement whatsoever except the occasional splash from another student whose kick was too high.

This is a real, angry, unstoppable river.

The water laps against our faces, cold and relentless. Each swell sends a fresh shiver through my body, my teeth chattering uncontrollably. Chloe’s grip around my neck is like a vise, her fingernails digging into my skin. But I welcome the pain, the physical anchor to reality.

“Help!” I scream, my voice hoarse and desperate. “Someone, please help us!”

But there’s no response, no sign of anyone nearby. I keep kicking, putting every ounce of effort into it, but the river remains silent, indifferent to our plight. I strain my ears, hoping to hear the distant hum of a boat motor or the shouts of a search party. But there’s nothing.

Why would there be? No one knows we’re out here.

Chloe whimpers, her face pressed against my shoulder. “What if no one finds us?” she whispers, her voice small and fragile.

I swallow hard, trying to ignore the icy tendrils of fear squeezing my heart. “They will,” I say, infusing my voice with a conviction I don’t feel. “Your dad… He’ll realize something’s wrong when we don’t come back. He’ll come looking for us.”

But even as the words leave my mouth, I can’t help but wonder… What if he doesn’t think he needs to hurry back because Chloe is being looked after?

Ha. Looked after . Yeah, the first time I’m the responsible adult for a child, and this is the result.

No. I can’t think like that. Not now. Not when Chloe needs me to be strong.

I force a smile, brushing a strand of wet hair from Chloe’s face. “Hey, sing that song you did at rehearsals.”

“Now?”

“Yeah, I really liked it.”

Her lips are chattering. “I’m not sure I can remember the words.”

“Try,” I suggest, my voice gentle. “It’ll help pass the time until help arrives.”

For a moment, Chloe hesitates. But then, softly at first, she begins to sing. Her voice is tremulous and uncertain, the notes wavering in the air. But gradually, it grows stronger, more confident. The melody wraps around us like a blanket, a fragile shield against the cold and the fear.

And as I listen, my heart swells with a fierce, protective love. I may not be sure of much right now—not my career, not my future, not even my own identity. But one thing I know with absolute certainty: I will do whatever it takes to keep this precious girl safe.