Stepbrother Thief(64)

But it also means I have nothing to lose.

I open my eyes under the water and watch my golden hair float around my face, feeling a little dizzy from my lack of breath.

I have to stop letting all of the bad things that have happened to me maintain control over my life. I used to know how to do that, when Gill was around. I could push away thoughts of my father's death, my sister's abandonment, my mother's murder. But then when he left, I forgot how. Or maybe I never really knew? Maybe I just used him as a crutch?

I won't let one incident dictate my entire life.

The thought bursts through my brain at the same moment my desperate need for air takes over, and I crash through the surface of the water with a massive breath. I tread water for a moment, gathering air in my lungs, tilting my head back to stare up through the glass at the stars.

“I'm going to be strong,” I tell myself, thinking of my mom sitting in front of her mirror everyday and smiling, telling herself all of the things she needed to hear most. If you can't support yourself, how can you expect anyone else to know how to do it? My mom knew best how to take life by the horns, how to make the best out of a bad situation. You are so beautiful, Elena, she'd say, not in a vain or self-patronizing sort of a way, not with any narcissistic undertones or the bite of a superiority complex, but just to make herself feel good. After all, people have a tendency to follow self-fulfilling prophecies. My mom just made sure hers were good ones. You can do anything you set your mind to. Once upon a time, I'd tried to emulate her, tried to sit in front of the mirror I'd inherited and do the very same thing. Gill's leaving … I won't let him take this away from me, too.

“I will make a life for myself,” I say, voice echoing strangely on the water, words for only me to hear. “Tomorrow looks like a good day for a good day.”

I smile. For the first time in a long time, I smile. The expression hurts my face, and it doesn't feel entirely genuine, but it's there, and that's what counts.

I swim to the edge of the pool and haul myself up and out, standing shakily on the wet pavement and moving over to grab my towel. I don't expect to make a sudden turnaround—nothing in life is that easy—but I've managed to talk myself in the right direction. That's something, isn't it?

I wrap my towel around me and slip my flip-flops on, making my way towards the door when I realize I forgot my cell phone on the lounge chair; I bring it with me in case something happens with Solène and Cliff needs to get a hold of me. I might not be the world's greatest mom, but I'm trying my best. I turn around, intending to go back for it, and manage to slip in a puddle of water on the floor.

I fall hard and fast, smacking my head on the side of the pool as I tumble into the deep end, completely confused and disoriented, pain blanketing my thoughts and shooting white stars across my eyes. I go limp for a minute, on the verge of passing out, but snap to like I've been slapped. I can't die here. How sad would that be?

I kick my legs and find that the towel is soaked and heavy and clinging like greedy fingers to my skin. It's a struggle to untangle myself from it and try to focus myself upwards. I push forward, reaching for the surface as my vision blackens and flickers at the edges, reaching for the air above. Instead, my fingers brush up against pavement and I realize that I'm going the wrong way.

No! My mind rails against the lack of oxygen and I start to thrash, my body panicking even though my thoughts have just gone eerily calm. In the back of my mind, I recognize a dark shadow and a splash above me, but I decide that I don't care, that I'm too tired. Right now, all I want to do is sleep. When I get up, I'll find a way out of this pool.

Something warm and strong wraps around me, something familiar, dragging me through the water and into the air like I'm floating. Somehow, someway, I end up on my back on the pavement, breath still a far gone dream as I try to blink away the pain and droplets of water clinging to my lashes.

Warmth presses in on my lips, a tingling sensation that feels too good to be dragging water from my lungs. I sit up slightly, the hot dance of fingertips on my arm, and cough until my chest hurts, until my stomach muscles are aching from clenching so hard, and then I fall back to the cement.

It takes several moments of slow breathing for me to orient myself, and when I finally do, I realize what just happened. I almost died. And somebody had to save me.

I sit up suddenly and look around, the ghostly tingle of familiar fingers still on my arms, my lips.

It's stupid. And impossible. And pathetic for me to even think it, but …

“Gilleon?” I ask quietly, voice echoing around the empty room. Somewhere in the hallway, I think I hear one of the locker room doors slam, but by the time I get up and peek inside the ladies' room, I can't find anyone. Dizzy and unsure on my feet, I wait outside the men's until I get too fed up and barge inside anyway.