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Chapter Twenty-Four

EDEN

Whoa. This is… way, way beyond what I imagined Murph was planning.

Unless he’s proposing… but that’s a little fast, especially for him.

Something is really off. Besides the horrible twelve-foot-tall arch, the violinists, and the fake vines trailing through the water, that is. At first, I thought I must have had one too many of Kieran’s mixed drinks.

“Okay,” I finally manage to call back to Murph as I stare at him. “So, if it’s not what it looks like… because I don’t know what the hell this even looks like…”

Behind us, there’s the roar of another bathtub approaching, but everyone nearby is too busy staring at us to cheer them on. The swelling violin music almost drowns out my voice, and even the sound of the boat. Murph mouths something at me, but I can’t figure it out. And a lady in a suit with a clipboard is steering him out of sight.

“Wait, what?—”

“Eden Meyers,” says a voice over the crackly megaphone.

A chill runs down my spine, straight to the tips of my toes.

No. No way.

I thought I’d left him behind. I thought I’d finally, finally outrun the shadow that tried so hard to destroy me, and cut me off from everything I love. But… here he is again.

George steps out from behind the floral arch, wearing a thousand-buck suit and a million-megawatt smile.

“Wh-What?” I squeak, my nails biting into my palms. At last, it all makes sense… but now, I just wish it didn’t.

“I’m probably the last person you’re expecting to see. But I know how I feel, and I’m finally ready?—”

The wake of the passing bathtub hits Dawn’s Embrace, tilting the deck gently from side to side. And with one too many drinks in my system, it’s just a little bit harder than usual to keep my balance. I stumble forward, grabbing for the railing.

“—tell you what I should have told you?—”

But I was already standing so close to the edge, drawn toward Murph’s voice like a moth to flame.

All I find underfoot is thin air. The violins shudder to a halt, but the noise picks up to a fever pitch as time seems to slow to a crawl. Voices—shouting from boats all around us, footsteps on the deck, hands almost grabbing me. But everything is a split-second too late.

I’m tumbling down. And the worst part of it all? Just as I hit the water, I hear a sound I thought I’d never have to listen to again. It’s George, on the megaphone… and he’s laughing.

In an instant, everything changes, and I can’t stop the scream that tears out of my throat.

I’m freezing cold, and my lungs are on fire, and everything hurts from trying to tread water in the freezing ocean. I’m barely staying afloat, despite kicking as fast as I can. My clothes and shoes are trying to drag me to the ocean floor, but I can’t spare a moment to try to get anything off.

Holy fuck. This can’t be happening.

But it is… and I’m terrified.

I’m fighting a losing battle against the water. I can’t catch my breath. All I can taste is salt, making me gag and over and over again. I’m wasting precious air, but I can’t stop my tongue from trying to shrivel up and crawl into the back of my throat.

People are shouting. But I can’t hear past the thunder of my own heartbeat in my ears. I keep dipping under the waves, the ocean muffling the words. It’s just more noise in a cacophony of useless noise: boat engines roaring, sharp voices yelling, and the ocean mercilessly slapping against my bare skin.

Where’s the fucking boat? It must be close. If I can just grab hold of it… or open my eyes to get a look…

I spare a moment to frantically grasp around with one hand, but all I feel is water. It slips through my fingers. slipping through my fingers. I’m trying my hardest to open my eyes to see it, or at least anticipate each wave. But it hurts too much, and for some reason I can’t force myself to do it anyway.

This isn’t fair!

If my body would let me, I’d just start sobbing right now. I spent so much of today in that stupid lifejacket, and the one moment I need it… I don’t have it on.

But even that thought slips through my fingers, too. The window of my future—not just with Murph, but any future at all—is closing rapidly. Every second counts, and some primal instinct in my body will not go down without a fight. It summons up reserves of energy I didn’t know about.

I’m thrashing and kicking. My face clears the surface, and I tip back my head to gulp down more air.

My chest is starting to expand?—

Fuck! No!

There’s another rush of water over my face. It’s filling my eyes, my mouth, my nose. I can barely keep control of the instinct to breathe in anymore—even with water in my mouth. I’m dipping under the waves. The world is dark, and all sound is muffled. Besides the surge of waves, that is, and the desperate heartbeat of my body trying to outrace the clock.

The ocean looked so calm from the boat—but when my face is barely above the surface, every tiny wave might as well be a storm swell.

Please! Come on!

The second my face clears the water, my burning lungs take over. I’m not in control anymore. If I breathe in a lungful of seawater, I still don’t think I can stop it. That primal part of me is desperately seeking out what it needs, and I’m in the passenger seat.

But finally, fucking finally , I’m sucking in blissful, sweet air. Past the salt, I can just about smell motor oil and seaweed and god knows what else?—

Another wave. I’m underwater. My lungs are screaming again. I can’t do this much longer.

I’ve never felt panic like this, more than bone-deep—soul-deep. Is this what it feels like to drown? Shit, shit shit. No. It can’t happen to me. Not right here, in front of everyone. Not so close to my boat. Not on a sunny day like this. People can’t drown in the sunshine, right?

They just can’t. I have to believe it.

Cold water hits my face. I can’t stop the gasp. I cough on salt water as my lungs burn. I choke and gag and spit it out. But I’m sinking again, and I’m not sure I can come up. My throat is raw with white-hot pain. But it’s not as bad as the regret stabbing through my chest as I fight for every bit of air I can get.

It’s all my fault, and I wish so badly that I could just rewind the clock.

How long has it been? Ten seconds? Thirty? Two minutes? I can’t tell. But I didn’t think I was in that much danger. I only meant to step outside for a second, to see what was going on. I didn’t think?—

You never think. You need someone to look out for you.

George’s words are like poison in my lungs, stealing the last breath of air before?—

There’s a splashing noise from close by. A voice I know well. Strong arms close around me, and the world pivots. Suddenly I’m on the surface of the water, floating on top of a warm, hard body.

Murph.

I’m safe. I’m finally—finally, finally—safe. But my body doesn’t know it yet.

I’m still thrashing like I’m trying to tread water, pushing at thin air with my hands. Murph holds me tighter, keeps me on the surface, says something to me. I can’t hear it, but I can breathe. Not just once. Again, and again. Something my chest is unlocking.

I’m in control again. Of everything. My limbs, my lungs, my own survival. So the first thing I do is give it all up and collapse into Murph’s arms, right here on the water’s surface. He holds on tight and floats with me, and I cling to him and trust him to catch my fall.

My lips move, even though my voice can’t come out. “You’re here,” I’m trying to say, but my voice doesn’t work. My throat burns too much, and I’m still gulping for air.

The world tips around a little, and I can feel from the way Murph moves that he’s just grabbed hold of a boat. And he’s trying to tell me something. I can’t hear him over the rush of my pulse, but it’s finally fading as I catch my breath.

“I’ve got you,” Murph rumbles, over and over. “I’ve got you, Eden.” And, “I’m here.”

He is. He’s here—yet again—to save me.

And in all my surprise-filled wonder… suddenly, I think I know what real love feels like. It feels like the safety I always find in Murph’s arms, even while we’re still down here in the waves.