Page 60 of Things I Overshared

He jumped in. For me.

I cough, still struggling to catch my breath. “I— My—”

“Shh, it’s fine.” He’s talking softly now, calm and intense. “I’ve got you. Just breathe, try to calm down, okay? Shh.” I try to nod. He grabs on to something, and I feel a pull around us in the water. I close my eyes and cling to him for dear life, feeling myself shake. My teeth start to chatter, and I can’t tell if it’s from the frigid water or the shock.

“Shit,” Emerson whispers. “Towels!” he yells as I’m suddenly hauled out of the water by two of the ship’s crew. I’m on my feet but wobbling for a split second before Emerson’s arms are around me, holding me steady and also crushing my head into his chest.

“She should sit,” I hear someone say.

“I’ll get some water,” Trina calls out.

“I’m-I’m all right,” I manage to get out as Emerson wraps a towel around me and then scoops me up into his arms like I weigh nothing. He takes a couple steps and sets me down on the bench seat next to the built-in table.

“Are you all right, dear?” Mr. Roberts asks.

“I’m so sorry,” a crew member mumbles.

I nod firmly and try to smile. “I’m-I’m all right. I should’ve been paying attention, really.”

“Drink this.” Emerson takes the water bottle from Trina and hands it to me. I take it from him with unbelievably shaky hands. I close my eyes and try to calm my body down. This is ridiculous—it was just a hit to the lung and a bit of cold water. I’m fine.

“I’m so sorry, sir, we should’ve called out louder before adjusting the boom,” I hear Captain Freddie say to Emerson. He has a towel around him now as well, but I can still see his shirt clinging to his firm chest and every defined bump of his six-pack. He turns and walks toward the small cabin that I would assume is called the bridge. The other men follow, mumbling about finding a spare shirt and a jacket.

“You sure you’re all right?” Trina’s face is earnest as she squats down in front of me.

“Yeah.” I nod. “I am.”

She moves to sit next to me on the leather seat.

“Still shaking.” She rubs a hand up and down my back.

I try to make my voice steady. “My body is freaking out more than I am.”

She scoots closer and says near my ear, “No chemistry, my big flabby ass!”

“What?”

“That man looked like he was going to die. I’ve never seen such intense fear on someone’s face before.”

My eyebrows raise, and I think about the look on Emerson’s face. He had called me Samantha. He called my name, over and over. And he cussed, which was so very human of him. “And then after he got you out, did you see the look he gave them? I wouldn’t be surprised if he kills both the fake captain and the real one—what’s his name? Freddie?”

“Yeah . . .” I look toward the bridge.

Trina gives me a squeeze as she jokes. “Well, bye-bye, Freddie, hope you had a good life.”

I shake my head, not wanting to let her words go from my ears to my heart. “That’s just Emerson. He’s intense.”

“No, no. This was not just being broody, girl, this was rage. He was shaking.”

“It’s cold,” I say.

“Samantha. Quit being a daft twat and listen to me! I don’t care how he normally is—he was fucking terrified. Over you. And then he was pissed as all bloody h—” She cuts herself off as Emerson walks back to us. He has on a crew shirt that’s a smidge small, making his biceps bulge out from below the sleeve. Trina wasn’t exaggerating. He looks like he wants to snap some necks.

He hands me a big crew wind jacket and another dry towel.

“Thanks,” I say, looking into his eyes. He quickly looks away.

His voice is gritty. “We’re headed back to take you to a hospital.”