Rebel(57)
The hard deck knocks the air out of my lungs as I go right on my back. Streaks of pain ratchet through me, making me cry out.
More bruises. Not like it’ll matter if I don’t get back inside. I’m not sure how, when I can’t even get back on my feet. My fingers look for handholds, but there’s nothing, and for several long moments I lie there, buffeted by the water rushing along the deck and trying not to cry. I’m not doing a very good job of it. My eyes close.
Something clutches at my upper arm, and I panic. Images of giant octopi and sharks flash against the insides of my eyelids. I scream, but the grip doesn’t let go, instead pulling me closer. Instinctively, I struggle, until I hear the voice. His voice.
Chapter 29: Angie
“Jesus, Angie. Calm the fuck down. I’m just trying to help. Unless you hate me so much you’d rather drown.” Not waiting for me to answer, Gavin gets an arm under my armpit and pulls me up close.
I cry and cling to him, too exhausted and relieved to even think about being mad at him. “What are you doing here?” My throat is raw, and even this close I’m not sure he can hear my raspy voice.
“How about we talk about that later, when we’re not being washed around and your lips aren’t quite so blue, alright?” Wrapping one arm tightly around me, he grabs the wall next to us for support and pulls both of us up like my extra weight is nothing. Icy water rushes past us across the deck. “Can you stand?”
I don’t answer right away, because I have no idea. I grab his arm, clinging to it for support while I test my legs. When they don’t immediately give out, I swallow and nod.
“Good. We’re going to walk slowly together, alright? I’ll hold along here, and you hold on to me. I’ve got you.” His voice is calm, and I use it to center myself. If he can keep his cool, then I will too. He leans in and speaks in a lower voice. “Are you ready?”
I draw a deep breath, then nod. Surprisingly enough, I trust him.
Without a word, he starts to move, nearly carrying me with him. Water spray and strong winds tear at me as we move slowly forwards. I support myself with my legs and balance as well as I can, but I’m pretty sure that even if I were unconscious he’d still carry me in. Even through our clothes, I feel the strength of him as he brings me to safety.
Several long, wet moments later, he pulls open the door. Its hinges squeak in protest and the wind does its best to slam it shut again, but he grunts and holds it in place, ushering me in ahead of him. As soon as I’m inside, I collapse against the wall, sliding down to the floor, my forehead resting on my shaking knees. My heart’s jackhammering in my chest and my whole face tingles. I can’t help it. I start to sob.
The door shuts with a slam, and I look up through saltwater and tears to see Gavin engaging the lock. His clothes cling to him like a second skin, and especially his t-shirt looks painted on. Even more than usual, I mean.
He turns, his face hard and his hair plastered to his skin. “What the fuck were you doing out there? You could’ve gotten hurt.” The calm is over, and now the storm has moved inside.
“I—I thought I saw Mabel out there. I was just trying to...” I sob. “I was just trying to help her, but it was a stupid serving rack, and then the waves got stronger and I didn’t count to seven and I slipped and—” A hiccup shakes my chest and I draw in a ragged breath.
“Never mind. Save your strength.” The anger has left his voice. When I open my eyes again to look at him, all I see is concern and relief. “You can tell me later.”
And with that, he scoops me up like a little kid and carries me. At first I want to tell him to let go of me, and that I’m still mad at him, but the words die unspoken. Instead, I wrap my arms around his neck and rest my face against the warmth of his chest. His shirt’s still wet and sticky, but I can hear his heartbeat through it and that feels too good to ruin by arguing.
He heads straight for the elevator, keeping his feet even with the rocking of the ship. The idea of being trapped in an elevator during the storm still scares me, but I trust his judgement and he doesn’t hesitate, hitting the call button. The doors open immediately. Most people are keeping in their staterooms today.
We ride up in silence, and he never lets me go. I’m pretty sure I can stand just fine on my own now, but I don’t say anything. I remember the last time he carried me. It was over the threshold on our wedding night. With all my heart I wish I could relive that night instead of the bickering and accusations that will probably begin as soon as he puts me down.
Our suite’s a mess. The room service cart from last night has fallen over, scattering popcorn, napkins and what was left of the melted ice. The rocking’s worse up here, but not as bad as I remember from this morning. Maybe the storm is settling.