Read Online Giving In: The Sandy Cove Series (Book 1) by M.R. Joseph - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: M.R. Joseph
Tags: Contemporary
Ads: Link
wait. I peek over the dock to see where he is. Nothing but a few bubbles pop up.
Shit!
Did he drown? I look to the opposite side of the dock, nothing. I feel panic in my chest, so I yell for help.
“Someone, help. Come quick!”
My anxiousness overtakes me, and I pull at my hair, pacing until I see Max fly out onto the upper patio.
I get on my hands and knees and peer over the old wooden boards.
Oh, no! I can’t see him. The water is too dark.
I’m suddenly grabbed by my arm, thrown in the water, and I’m confused, not breathing correctly, gasping as I feel the water enter my lungs. I can’t stand, nor can I yell. I’m going to die. This is how I’m going to die. I can hear muffled sounds of people talking, yelling, splashing all around me, as I begin to sink deeper and deeper into the salty water. I close my eyes, wishing for a quick end and not a long, drawn-out, dramatic death. Flashes of my past come to play. Weaving a movie about my life, the good, the bad, the tragic. I don’t want that to be the last thing I think before I die. I plead with God, not that, oh, please, not that.
I feel my body jerk. There are arms around my waist, hauling me up from the water, and I feel my body hit a hard surface. I blink a few times after my cheek has been slapped and hands turning my head towards the side of my body. I expel water from my lungs. I shut my eyes again because of the sting from the remnants of the salt due to the saltwater.
“She can’t swim. God damn it! How did this happen!”
I can hear Willow yelling and hands making contact with bare flesh, the slapping sounds, the cries, and then two hands grasping my shoulders.
“Harlow, Harlow, can you hear me?”
I take a deep breath in. It hurts my lungs, but I do so, and momentarily I cough and spit more water from my mouth. Willow is looking at me, my face in her hands. She is focusing on my face.
“Oh, thank God, Har. Are you ok? Do you want to go to the hospital? What happened?”
There’s much confusion surrounding me. Lots of faces, in my face. Willow trying to pull me off the wooden boards. Her screaming at Cruz.
“You asshole. How could you do that to her? She can’t swim. Never learned how and you go and do this. If I thought you weren’t much of an asshole a week and a half ago, God, let me tell you what I really think of you now.”
She leaves me, gets in his face, they are shouting, pointing at me, to the dock, to the water, and to my… oh my God! My laptop! It’s soaked, ruined. Simply drenched. And then I feel the tears prick my eyes, sting them, and I regurgitate the salt from the bay. A heavy mixture of emotions is going through me. Sadness, anxiousness, and I’m just tired. So tired, I want to go back to bed, and it’s only seven a.m.
I hug my knees and rock like I always do when I’m anxious. Max comes to my side and bends down so he’s level with me. His hand rests on my knee.
“Harlow, are you ok? He didn’t mean it. He had no idea you couldn’t swim.”
I don’t reply. I’m still in shock, still shaking from seeing my life flash before my eyes.
I rise, and Max helps me up. I grab my laptop, water drips from it, and I feel defeated. Willow and Thea look at me. They come to my side and link their arms with mine as we make our descent back to the house.
Cruz stills my arm as he speaks, “Turnip, wait, I’m… I’m, well, you know.”
He can’t find the words. The only words that will make this okay, but he doesn’t have the power to say them.
Willow smacks his chest and follows the rest of us into the house. He remains stoic, and I faintly hear Porter yelling at him as we walk.
I need a shower. I smell like the bay. I need the warmth of the water on me, speedily. As I make my way to the bathroom, Willow asks what I want to put on after my shower. I just want my sweats, because when I get out of the shower, I’ll be packing to go home. I can’t stay here with that asshole.
I turn on the water,
Shit!
Did he drown? I look to the opposite side of the dock, nothing. I feel panic in my chest, so I yell for help.
“Someone, help. Come quick!”
My anxiousness overtakes me, and I pull at my hair, pacing until I see Max fly out onto the upper patio.
I get on my hands and knees and peer over the old wooden boards.
Oh, no! I can’t see him. The water is too dark.
I’m suddenly grabbed by my arm, thrown in the water, and I’m confused, not breathing correctly, gasping as I feel the water enter my lungs. I can’t stand, nor can I yell. I’m going to die. This is how I’m going to die. I can hear muffled sounds of people talking, yelling, splashing all around me, as I begin to sink deeper and deeper into the salty water. I close my eyes, wishing for a quick end and not a long, drawn-out, dramatic death. Flashes of my past come to play. Weaving a movie about my life, the good, the bad, the tragic. I don’t want that to be the last thing I think before I die. I plead with God, not that, oh, please, not that.
I feel my body jerk. There are arms around my waist, hauling me up from the water, and I feel my body hit a hard surface. I blink a few times after my cheek has been slapped and hands turning my head towards the side of my body. I expel water from my lungs. I shut my eyes again because of the sting from the remnants of the salt due to the saltwater.
“She can’t swim. God damn it! How did this happen!”
I can hear Willow yelling and hands making contact with bare flesh, the slapping sounds, the cries, and then two hands grasping my shoulders.
“Harlow, Harlow, can you hear me?”
I take a deep breath in. It hurts my lungs, but I do so, and momentarily I cough and spit more water from my mouth. Willow is looking at me, my face in her hands. She is focusing on my face.
“Oh, thank God, Har. Are you ok? Do you want to go to the hospital? What happened?”
There’s much confusion surrounding me. Lots of faces, in my face. Willow trying to pull me off the wooden boards. Her screaming at Cruz.
“You asshole. How could you do that to her? She can’t swim. Never learned how and you go and do this. If I thought you weren’t much of an asshole a week and a half ago, God, let me tell you what I really think of you now.”
She leaves me, gets in his face, they are shouting, pointing at me, to the dock, to the water, and to my… oh my God! My laptop! It’s soaked, ruined. Simply drenched. And then I feel the tears prick my eyes, sting them, and I regurgitate the salt from the bay. A heavy mixture of emotions is going through me. Sadness, anxiousness, and I’m just tired. So tired, I want to go back to bed, and it’s only seven a.m.
I hug my knees and rock like I always do when I’m anxious. Max comes to my side and bends down so he’s level with me. His hand rests on my knee.
“Harlow, are you ok? He didn’t mean it. He had no idea you couldn’t swim.”
I don’t reply. I’m still in shock, still shaking from seeing my life flash before my eyes.
I rise, and Max helps me up. I grab my laptop, water drips from it, and I feel defeated. Willow and Thea look at me. They come to my side and link their arms with mine as we make our descent back to the house.
Cruz stills my arm as he speaks, “Turnip, wait, I’m… I’m, well, you know.”
He can’t find the words. The only words that will make this okay, but he doesn’t have the power to say them.
Willow smacks his chest and follows the rest of us into the house. He remains stoic, and I faintly hear Porter yelling at him as we walk.
I need a shower. I smell like the bay. I need the warmth of the water on me, speedily. As I make my way to the bathroom, Willow asks what I want to put on after my shower. I just want my sweats, because when I get out of the shower, I’ll be packing to go home. I can’t stay here with that asshole.
I turn on the water,
Similar Books
