Total pages in book: 126
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122030 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
CHAPTER 33
CASEY
IT STARTS IN MY TOES. A STINGING CHILL THAT QUICKLY CLAWS UP my legs. The fabric of my prom dress balloons around me as the car fills with black water and the dashboard lights flicker. The rearview mirror glows red, and I struggle against the strangling seat belt. Even before the rushing water reaches my lips, my chest is tight. I can’t suck in a breath. Panic clenches my throat. Even my fingers are terrified as they flail helplessly to free me.
Then a thump. A thud against the door.
Fenn.
He’s here. Fully submerged, floating outside the window that for now protects a small, rapidly decreasing pocket of air inside the car. I scream for him. Fumble with the latch, trying to push my way out. I manage to force the slightest movement that invites a violent rush of water that overtakes the interior. But I can’t push my way free. The door’s too heavy.
My eyes meet Fenn’s in silent desperation to pull harder. Get me out of here.
Until I realize he’s the one holding the door shut. Trapping me inside. Watching me fall deeper into the black. My limbs grow too cold to fight, and his vacant expression grows more distant.
Until finally the light leaves me and the water washes into my lungs.
I wake up coughing. I thrust upright with great, heaving, gagging gulps of air. Tangled and pinned by the sheets like I’m tied up in ropes. Heart pounding, I furiously thrash to untangle myself. I just need to be uncovered. Free. Space. I’ve never been claustrophobic, but even my room feels too small as I throw myself out of bed to tear open the window and look out at the deep forest behind the house. Miles of openness. The infinity of night.
My first instinct, once I’ve regained a semiregular heartbeat, is to reach for my phone. I find his name in my recent missed calls list and tap it without a real intention. It’s reflex. One I should probably try harder to resist, but which I fall back on regardless.
“Casey?” Fenn answers after the first ring. His voice is hoarse, and my name comes out a little slurred. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?”
“Why is that your first question?”
“At three a.m. I kinda just assumed.”
“I’m fine. Sorry.” I sit on the windowsill to listen to the noise the night makes in our yard. “Honestly, I don’t think I expected you to answer.”
“I’ll always pick up for you.”
Tears sting my eyes. It’s unfair that I retreat to him when I need something. That I crave the comfort of his voice. The ways he understands me where others can’t.
“Nightmares again?” he asks.
“You were in it.”
“I’m afraid to ask.”
“It wasn’t good.”
There’s a pause. “Do you want me to come over?”
The offer makes me falter. For months when the nightmares came, Fenn stayed up with me on the phone, sometimes till breakfast the next morning, to talk me through it. We usually spoke about my mom, how her death triggered so many of my fears after the accident. The fixation on drowning. Somehow, he’d find a way to make me feel like happiness was possible.
But this is the first time he’s asked if I want him to be here. Physically here with me.
And even when the better part of me still prefers to hate him, I find myself saying, “Yes. Can you?”
“I’ll be there in ten.”
Not long after, he tumbles in through the window, and we both wince when he lands on his knees with a thud. Freezing on the spot, I glance toward the door, but I don’t hear the dogs out in the hall. Honestly, at this point, I really need to stop worrying about those two. Bo and Penny are sweet as pie, but they’re terrible guard dogs.
“Sorry.” His voice is hushed. “Lost my balance.”
“It’s okay,” I whisper back.
We stand there for a moment, watching each other. It’s three thirty in the morning and I’m in my pajamas: little pink shorts and a paper-thin T-shirt.
“You look cold,” Fenn says, gaze darting to my chest before returning to my face. His lips twitch slightly.
I feel a blush form when I realize my nipples are hard and straining against my top. “I am.” I kneel to gather the bedsheets I’d flung onto the floor. “Help me with these?”
Silently, we remake my bed, and I don’t question myself too hard as I slide under the covers and lift one corner of the blanket for Fenn.
He hesitates for a few seconds, then removes his jacket and drapes it over the back of my desk chair. His shoes come off next, but he leaves his sweatpants and T-shirt on as he crawls in beside me. He starts to reach for me, then seems to second-guess himself, rolling onto his back instead.
We lie in the darkness, staring at the ceiling. Until finally he speaks.