Chapter 14

The splashing stops just before I locate the disturbance in the water. And then it's gone. Livvy's gone. Nothing. She'd been right behind me.

The water is calm.

"Livvy!"

No call back.

The hairs on my neck prick up, all my senses going on alert as dread tightens in my chest.

I race to where I saw her last.

There's no trace of her. No waves. No air bubbles.

I dive down.

I can't see anything.

There's movement.

It's Wood. He brushes against me as he dives below me.

Then I see her, tiny air bubbles swirling around her hair like a halo.

She's not moving.

I swim faster than I ever have in my life, barely able to see in the dark water. Hooking her around the middle, I shoot to the surface. As soon as I do, gasping for air, Wood takes her over his shoulder and swims back to the beach.

I don't like not having her in my arms. She's not okay. I need to make sure she's okay. But Wood is literally a champion swimmer. He can swim with her in one arm faster than I can with two.

He has her laid out on a blanket by the fire when I get out of the water. I snatch up two more blankets and cover her, dropping to my knees by her side.

"Call 911," I bark at him.

He runs for his phone.

Her lips are blue.

I don't think she's breathing.

I press my cheek to her face, hoping to hear her, to feel warm breath on my skin. But she's cold.

A blood-curdling scream breaks behind me. Frantic footsteps in the sand as Bex and Jake run up to us. Bex is yelling, "What's happening?" already crying.

"I know CPR." Jake kneels next to us, and I scramble away to make room.

Bex is hysterical, sobbing, crumpled on the other side of Livvy as Jake starts to administer CPR.

I can't do anything but watch.

Her body is so still.

I take her hand. Her fingers are freezing and limp. Minutes ago, they were wrapping around my hand so tight, warm, holding on to me. Trusting me.

I shouldn't have let her out of my sight. I should have stayed right next to her and made sure. Kept her safe. How did I let this happen?

My stomach is so tight it hurts.

He rips the blankets off her and places his hands between her breasts for chest compressions.

I want to vomit.

I don't know if I can watch.

I close my eyes, squeeze her hand, and prepare myself for the sickening cracking sound to come next.

There's a raspy gurgle. I open my eyes as Jake is turning Livvy onto her side. She heaves, water gushes out of her mouth and into the sand, and then she starts coughing and taking pained, wheezing breaths.

"Oh, my god!" Tears are streaming down Bex's cheeks.

Livvy looks so small. I want to go to her, cover her up, wrap her in the blankets and hold her close. But Bex throws herself over her and hugs her tight, rolling Livvy away from me. Her hand slips out of mine.

"Hey." A warm hand clasps my shoulder and I look up at Wood, his face pale, expression sober. "She's going to be okay. An ambulance is on the way. Are you okay?"

"I'm okay," I say, standing. The breeze is cool on my cheeks, and I realize they're wet with tears. I wipe them with my palms. I want to say of course I'm okay, I'm just worried for Livvy, but he knows.

He knows I'm not okay.

He knows what kind of thoughts are clawing around in my head right now.

"She's going to be okay," he reassures again.

I nod. I want it to be true. I want to believe him.

The paramedics arrive just as Macy runs out. She and Bex don't leave Livvy's side the entire time they attend to her, giving her oxygen and checking her vitals.

She's awake and talking.

I'm pacing along the beach, hands still shaking.

I can't stop replaying the moment I realized she'd gone under. What if I hadn't seen her? What if we couldn't find her? What if instead of sitting there on the beach, she was at the bottom of the lake?—

And then I think about them. My family. The accident.

The water.

Cameron.

But that's not Livvy. They say her vitals are good, but they're going to take her to the ER and keep her overnight, just to monitor her and make sure she's safe.

They load her into the ambulance, Bex climbing in after her, holding her hand, her face tear streaked.

Just before they close the doors, Livvy's eyes meet mine—wide and watery and beautiful and it feels like I should be the one in the back of the ambulance with her, holding her hand and telling her that everything's fine.

It kills me that it's not me.

Wood and I follow with Macy and Jake in the backseat. Spencer decided to go back to bed.

They'll only allow family in her room after hours. So, I sit outside her room in a little chair with scratchy gray fabric and a worn-out seat cushion. I pace. I watch the clock. I sit back down.

Finally, Bex comes out of the room. I stand, straining to look into the room before the door closes behind her.

"She's sleeping," Bex says.

"We should go get some rest, too. We can come back in the morning," Macy says.

"I'm staying here," I say.

"Me, too," Bex adds.

"All right. We'll stay." Macy nods.

"I'll go find some coffee," Wood says. "Do you need anything, Mace? A snack?"

"I'm fine."

He tilts his head as he looks at her. "You haven't eaten in a while."

She nods. "Um, yeah." A bit frazzled, Macy looks around for her purse. "I should check my levels?—"

Wood grabs her purse from the chair across from me and they head down the hall.

I sit back in the chair.

People walk by. Quiet conversations down the hall, the incessant little beeps and doors closing. I hate hospitals. They're depressing as fuck. I'm glad I didn't have to spend any time in the hospital after everything.

No, they all died on scene. Would have been nice to be able to say goodbye, though.

I was the last one awake by five in the morning, but my body finally succumbed, and I passed out.

Now my neck is stiff, and my back protests as I unbend myself to get out of this chair. The morning sun shines in from somewhere around a corner and people are no longer speaking in hushed voices.

We get her checked out around eight and drive back to the house. She sits snug between Bex and Macy in the middle seat while I clench my jaw in the front seat, unaware I'm digging my fingers into my knee until we pull onto the circle drive.

As soon as Wood puts the car in park, I jump out and rip the back door open.

Bex hops out, looking confused.

"Come here," I say to Livvy, holding my arms out to her.

I don't care about the looks Bex and Macy give me when I scoop her up in my arms and carry her into the house. I don't stop. I carry her up both flights of stairs, her head on my shoulder.

Her breath is warm against my neck, and the simple realization that I can feel her breathing almost sends me to my knees like last night.

"I'm okay. I can walk," she whispers. Her voice is hoarse, and I clench my jaw, tightening my hold on her.

I take her up to her room, and I know I should put her down, let her get cleaned up, dressed, whatever. But I don't want to let go. I don't even want to let her out of my sight.

So I sit on the bed, cradling her in my arms. She puts her arms around my neck and looks up at me. A tear streaks down her cheek, and then another.

"I'm sorry," she says. "I shouldn't have gone out there. I should have told you I'm not a strong swimmer, I shouldn't?—"

"Shh." I hug her to me and kiss her forehead, letting my lips linger there for a second, breathing her in. When I pull back, more tears have fallen, and I wipe them away with my thumb.

She looks up at me, and I can't imagine never having gotten to see those beautiful green eyes again, smell her hair, see her smile, hear her laugh. Her lips are parted, back to their pretty pink color, perfectly plump. It would be inappropriate to kiss her right now.

But god, I want to kiss her.

"I'm cold," she says, shifting on my lap.

My first instinct is to tear back the covers, put her in bed and climb in behind her, hold her tight to me. I'll hold her as long as she wants and keep her warm.

"I'm going to go take a hot shower. Get cleaned up and dressed."

Oh. Right, that makes sense. "Do you need help?"

She rolls her eyes and lets out one breathy laugh. "I'm not going to drown in the shower, Noah."

I don't think she realizes how her words rip through my gut like a serrated knife. "I know, I just—" Fuck. "I'll wait here."

She squeezes my hand and smiles. "Thank you." Then she goes into the bathroom, and I lie back on the bed, listening to the sound of the running water, trying not to see her disappearing in the lake again.

I'm trying not to picture her with blue lips and lifeless eyes and limp, cold fingers.

I'm trying not to think about them. Or him. Cameron.

"Where's my sister?"

I sit up, having not even heard Bex walk in. She's changed into sweats, her eyes red and puffy from almost as little sleep as me.

"She's in the shower."

"Okay. Thanks for bringing her up here. You can go now. I'm going to stay with her."

"I don't mind staying with her."

Bex scoffs. "You don't need to, I'm here. I'm her sister."

I unfurl my fists and exhale slowly. I already had to endure not being able to be next to her for the last eight hours. I left her side in the lake. This is my fault. I'm not leaving her again. "I said I'd do it," I say through my teeth, trying not to growl.

"You're being weird. Go away."

"Are you guys fighting?" Livvy comes out of the bathroom in a white robe, drying her hair with a towel.

"No," we say simultaneously.

"I'm going to stay in here with you," Bex says, grinning triumphantly then sticking her tongue out at me when Livvy's not looking.

"Is that necessary? I really feel okay. I think I'm just going to read, maybe take a nap."

"They said we need to keep an eye on you, and I'm your big sister. I'm staying."

My knuckles ache, my hands balled up at my sides, fingernails digging into my palms.

"Oh, okay."

"A nap sounds perfect." Bex pulls the covers back and gets in the bed. "I hardly slept. You should go sleep, too," she says to me. "You look awful."

"Thanks," I deadpan.

"Oh! Should we check for ET under the bed first?" Bex asks Livvy.

Livvy tosses the towel over a chair. "Haha. No, we don't need to check for ET under the bed." She shifts her eyes. "He's much more likely to be in the closet, anyway."

"ET?" I twist my face, trying to follow the conversation.

"Yeah," Bex laughs. "Livvy used to be terrified of ET when she was little."

"The little alien from the movie?"

Livvy nods, her cheeks a deep pink. "Shut up, Bex."

"It was cute," Bex insists.

ET? I have the strangest sense of déjà vu as soon as she mentions it. Like, I've had this exact conversation before, only with someone else.

And then it hits me. I have.

I stride to the door. "I'll just be in the room next door. Let me know if you need anything." I make eye contact with Livvy before I leave, hand on the knob. "Anything. I mean it."

I can't shake the feeling nagging at me when I get into my room.

There's no way.

No fucking way.

It's just a coincidence that Angel told me she used to be afraid of ET as a kid. That's probably a pretty common and not at all unusual thing. Right? Right.

There's no way.

But the feeling picks at the base of my skull and everything else starts clicking into place. Like a puzzle I didn't even realize was in front of me the whole time. All the things I hadn't given much thought to before. They're the same age, their birthdays are both this weekend, they both just graduated college and moved back to Washington.

The odds of them being—no, it's too far-fetched.

But still, I take my phone out as soon as I close the door behind me. Frantically thumbing to the app and back through our messages, back to the picture she sent me.

God, she's beautiful. Perfect. Familiar.

I was more than a bit preoccupied with other thoughts when she sent it. Not to mention all the blood going to one extremity in particular. Maybe that's why I didn't see it. It didn't even cross my mind. From the curve of her hips to the size of her breasts, the amount of softness in her belly and thighs—Livvy.

I zoom in on the picture, focusing on the hips. The spot is covered by her white panties, but I keep zooming until I can't anymore.

And there it is. Right above the waistband—the tiniest sliver of a curved black line inked into her skin. It's nothing, really. There's no way to tell what the tattoo is or if there is a matching one on the other side because of how her body is turned.

Anyone looking at the photo would say it's proof of nothing—and I would agree—if I weren't the one who'd done the tattoo myself.