28. Twenty-Eight

The water was rising faster with every passing minute, pushing me toward the rocky ceiling. Despite the pain in my foot, I forced my way along the narrow, flooded passageway against the flow of water, hoping I had gone in the right direction. There was no sign of Oscar. He must've gotten swept away by the current. Whatever happened to him, I hoped it was quick.

Gritting my teeth, I threw my arm forward, grasping the next outcropping of rock. My fingers slipped, and I nearly lost my grip. Water splashed as I fought to get both hands back on the wall. It was up to my chest now, and my head brushed against the rocky ceiling. In an hour or two, the entire cavern might be under water.

I thought about trying to swim out, but the current was too strong. I wasn't strong enough of a swimmer to fight it, and the mine shafts were pitch black. The only light I had was the dim glow of my waterproof smart watch, but I didn't want to waste the battery. It was my only chance of being found.

I fumbled to tap the light so I could get a quick view of my surroundings. The cavern yawned ahead, black as night, with no signs of daylight. The ceiling dipped down ahead with barely an inch of air at the top. Fuck. I had seconds before the light went back out to memorize a series of handholds along the way. In the dark, they were harder to find, but I'd managed so far.

I grabbed for the next one just as the light went out. Sharp rock bit into my palms and I winced. My hands and knees were both raw and bloody from scraping against the rock, and every time I jostled my ankle, it sent a nauseating wave of pain up my leg, but I pressed on. I could do it. I had to. If Church could survive all the terrible things that'd happened to him, I could endure a little cold water and some scrapes.

One hand over the other, inch by inch, I advanced without even knowing if I was going the right way. I missed my next grab and my hand came down in the water, which was much closer to the ceiling than I thought. Something brushed against my leg and I jumped away with a shout, bumping my injured ankle in the process. The water surged, and I suddenly lost my grip on the wall completely, tumbling backward in ice-cold, pitch-black water.

I threw a hand out, and it dragged over sharp rocks, opening another cut, but it also gave me a handhold. I threw myself against the wall and clawed my way up. At least, I hoped it was up. I wasn't sure until I broke through the surface to greedily gulp in the dank air.

With trembling fingers, I hit the flashlight on my watch and looked around. Wherever the water had taken me, it didn't look familiar. It was impossible to tell if that was because I'd shot down one of dozens of side shafts in the mine, or if it was just because everything looked the same down there.

I closed my eyes and tried to calm my breathing. Oxygen would be limited in such a tight space. I had no idea how much I had left, but I needed to preserve it by staying calm. But I was running out of strength and willpower. The blood coating my hands was making it more difficult to grab the rocks. If I didn't come up with something else and fast, I was going to die down there.

So I did the only thing I could think of while facing down near certain death. I sang the first thing that came to mind, which was the song I'd been working on ever since I'd left L.A. It was unfinished, and my voice was rough from swallowing too much dirty cave water, but that didn't matter. It didn't matter when I tripped over the parts of the song I hadn't finished writing yet or backed up to try a new version of the verse because no one was around. It didn't even matter if I sang nonsense. All that mattered was singing loudly, projecting my voice in the hopes that someone, somewhere was looking for me nearby.

I don't know how long I clung to the cave wall with bloody palms, singing my heart out, but it was long enough the water rose to my neck. I was running out of time, but I didn't stop. I couldn't stop, wouldn't stop. Church was coming. I just had to hold on.

The first sign that I wasn't alone in the flooded mine was a distant splashing sound. I thought at first that something in the mine had given way and more water was flooding the chamber where I was trapped. As the sound got closer though, I was able to hear something else: barking, and behind it, voices.

I broke off the song and shouted at the top of my lungs, "I'm here! I'm right here! This way!"

The sound of sloshing water got louder, and I was hit with a surge of energy that I used to propel myself toward it.

"Stop moving!" came Church's shout echoing through the mine. "Keep singing! We'll come to you!"

Staying where I was and belting out a song was the most difficult thing I thought I'd ever done. All I wanted to do was rush toward him, throw my arms around him and let him carry me out of that God-forsaken place, but he was right. With the way sound bounced around in there, the direction I thought his voice was coming from might not be it at all.

When I saw the light ahead, my voice got shaky, and when—finally—Church swam into view, I couldn't hold back anymore. I pushed away from the wall and fought the current to swim straight to him. He put his arms around me and I broke, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Hey, it's okay. I've got you," Church murmured, squeezing me with one arm. His other was firmly gripping a nylon rope that trailed into the dark behind him. "You're safe now. I'm going to get you out of here, okay?"

I nodded against his chest, clinging to him desperately while Bowie swam up. They secured another rope around my waist, attaching me to Church.

"Hold on to me," Church instructed. "The rope is secure, but don't let go."

"Never," I promised, and held on tight.

I was too terrified and exhausted to say much of anything else as Bowie and Church followed the bright pink line of nylon back through the mine. It took all my strength just to hold on and stay awake, despite the icy water lapping at my body. Gradually, the water got shallower until it was just puddles on the muddy dirt floor. Church scooped me up and carried me in his arms the last few yards. When I saw shafts of light coming into the mine, I broke down sobbing again.

Dogs barked and people cheered as we finally made our way out of the mine. I looked up long enough to recognize the faces of the other Junkyard Dogs present. They spoke to me, but everything was too much of a blur .

At some point, we reached a stretcher and Church had a short argument with someone in an EMT uniform about handing me over. "You can have him over my dead body."

"He needs to be treated, sir," the EMT argued.

"It's all right." I squeezed my arms tightly around Church's neck.

He hesitated before gently putting me down on the stretcher. "All right, but I'm coming with you."

While the EMTs worked to get me strapped in to be transported down to wherever they had their ambulance, Church never let go of my hand. "That was a smart thing you did, leaving your cell phone behind so we could track your watch," he said.

I tried to swallow, but my throat was all dry and scratchy. "I wasn't sure you'd find me in time."

"I almost didn't." He bent down to kiss the top of my head. "And now that I've got you back, I'm not letting you out of my sight ever again."

I fell asleep on the ride to the hospital, too exhausted to stay awake even with the siren blaring.

The next time I woke up, I was in a hospital room. Sunlight streamed through a big window with built-in blinds. I tried to move my fingers, but found my hands bound in layers upon layers of gauze. I turned my head and smiled at the sight of Church sleeping in the chair amidst a pile of cards and flowers.

"You know," I said, and he jerked awake with a snort, "I'm a little disappointed this is the first time I got to see you asleep. "

"Dante! You're awake!" He jumped to his feet and half picked me up from the bed, engulfing me in a big hug.

I hugged him back as best I could with my hands—and apparently my arms—wrapped in gauze. "Sorry to keep you waiting. How long was I out?"

"Not long. Just overnight. Long enough for them to give you the royal treatment." He let me go but stayed hovering over the bed. "How do you feel?"

I hummed and checked myself over. Other than some mild pain in my limbs and a dull headache, I seemed fine. Even my ankle, which I was sure I'd broken, didn't hurt too badly when I moved it, but it did click. I must've just sprained it because there was only a light brace on it.

"I don't know. I'm a little sore, but that's nothing you can't fix for me, kitten." I wiggled my fingers enough that I could curl them just a little and used my newfound finger freedom to grab my man by the collar and pull him down for a kiss.

Wattson cleared his throat from the doorway. "I can come back later if I'm interrupting."

Church's face turned an adorable shade of pink as I released him.

"Nope," I said with a big grin. "I'm feeling better already."

"Right." Wattson adjusted his glasses and came into the room. He wasn't wearing his white coat, but he still looked very much like a doctor, even in his boring blue button up. "I just came from talking to the attending. There's no serious damage. The worst thing is the sprained ankle, but they wanted to keep you another night. I talked them into releasing you into our care instead. He didn't go for it at first until I showed him this."

Wattson picked up a TV remote and turned on the crappy little TV in the corner of the room, switching it over to a news broadcast. I frowned as I read the ticker at the bottom: AFTER ATOM FRONTMAN IN HOSPITAL.

"God," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "They could've at least used my name. I'm not a dancing monkey. I'm a whole person, you know."

"I thought Boone said he was keeping Dante out of the news," Church said.

"He made sure Dante was checked in under a pseudonym, but even he can't keep a story like this quiet forever." Wattson shut off the TV. "Hocking Valley Community Hospital doesn't have the security to handle the crowds that are about to descend on this place, so we're going to move you out the back way in an unmarked car. They're working on the discharge paperwork now. I was also told to tell you that the brass from the label and the rest of the band are flying in. We're meeting them in two hours in the yard."

Church pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is a nightmare. They're going to be pissed."

"Fuck them," I said, trying to take Church's hand. "You saved me. If they say anything bad about you, I'm going to put them in their place. You did nothing wrong."

Wattson eyed our hands together and huffed. "I'll go see if I can hurry things along," he said, and left.

Church sighed. "Dante, about Oscar…"

"He's dead, isn't he?" If he was alive, they'd be reporting his arrest instead of my minor injuries. A crazy violent stalker was bigger news than my scrapes and bruises.

Church gave my bandaged hands a light squeeze, but he didn't look at me. "He jumped off a cliff right in front of me. I tried to stop him, but I couldn't. "

"Oh, Christian." I put my arms around him and pulled his head to my chest. "You did the best you could. You know that, don't you? What happened with Oscar wasn't your fault."

He cleared his throat and shook his head. "There will be an investigation into what happened. The higher-ups are going to want someone to put the blame on, and I'm the best option. If I don't take the heat for everything that happened, it'll fall on Boone."

I took his face in my hands and lifted it so he'd look at me. "There isn't going to be heat from this. You did everything right, went above and beyond what anyone else has ever done for me. If the label or my manager or anybody tries to start something, I'll walk."

He blinked rapidly and gently pulled free. "Dante, you can't do that. Music is your life. You love singing."

"I didn't say I'd stop singing. Just that I'd walk from After Atom if I had to. Pretty sure I could be the next John Lennon if I went solo."

He cringed. "Lennon was assassinated."

"Paul McCartney, then." I started singing "Can't Buy Me Love", but it wasn't the same without being able to play the guitar or at least snap my fingers. The cuts on my hands were going to have to get better pronto.

"All right, Sergeant Pepper," Church said, standing. "Don't get ahead of yourself. It'd be silly for you to give up anything because of me."

"Are you serious?" I sighed. "After all this, you're still singing the same tune. Christian Danger Pope, you listen to me. I have the right to make my own choices in life. I haven't always been very good at it, especially lately, but I do my best. And I choose you. You make me happy. You make me want to be better. Hell, you saved me, and I don't just mean from that abandoned mine. I mean, you were there when no one else was to make me dig deep and find the scraps of myself I thought were long gone. You were the first person who made me feel whole again."

He stared down at my hand on top of his. "But—"

"Let me put it another way for you, kitten." I lifted his hand, doing my best to thread my bandaged fingers with his. "I love you."

"Dante, you know how I feel. It's just—"

"Don't complicate this. Whatever we need to figure out, we'll figure it out. But I need something from you right now. I need an answer. Do you feel the same way about me as I do about you? Yes or no, Christian? Right here. Right now. Everything else can wait."

His eyes shimmered as his gaze met mine. "Yes. A hundred thousand times over, yes."

Ignoring the throbbing pain in my hands, I pulled his lips to mine and kissed him again and again and again until we were both breathless and giddy. I smiled and held his forehead to mine. "See? That wasn't so hard, was it?"

He closed his eyes. "Loving you is the easy part, Dante. What do we do now? How are we ever going to make this work?"

"We'll find a way," I promised him. "But first, we have to deal with a bunch of grumpy old men…and my band mates. I don't want us to be a secret anymore. I'm going to tell them everything."

He paled and pulled away. "Everything?"

"Well, maybe not everything. The pancakes can be our little secret." I smirked and winked at him, but I meant every word of it.

I was done pretending to be someone I wasn't, through with finding my courage at the bottom of the bottle. If I walked away from this with nothing but Church and some happy memories, I could live with that. I'd leave After Atom behind if I had to, and I wouldn't even be doing it for him. I could do it for myself. I was worth fighting for.