I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her tight against me, one hand cradling the back of her head, the other locked across her back, my hand gripping the ladder. The water rocked us gently. I said nothing, simply held on.
Her fingers dug into my back as if I might slip away.
“I thought you were going to die,” she choked out, the words muffled against my shoulder.
My chest ached, a deep, physical ache that had nothing to do with the bruises.
“I know.”
“You jumped off abuilding, Callan.”
“Yeah. That part wasn’t ideal.”
She let out a small, broken laugh that collapsed into another sob halfway through.
“I can’t keep doing this,” she cried. “Watching people almost die. Watchingyoualmost die.”
I pulled back to see her face. Her eyes were red. Her cheeks streaked with saltwater and tears.
“We’re still here,” I said.
“For now.”
I cupped her face in both hands, gentle, tilting her chin until her gaze met mine.
“Hey.”
She blinked.
“You did good today,” I whispered. “You saved my life back there.”
Her lips trembled. “Jeff did.”
“Jeff finished it, but you held that thing off, love. You kept it from taking my head off while I sat there cranking a goddamn pump handle.” I held her gaze. “That took guts, Sloane. Don’t sell yourself short.”
The ocean swayed and pushed us against the ladder. Her hands loosened their grip on my back, sliding forward to rest against my chest.
She leaned her forehead against my chest, and her breathing, ragged at first, became slower, steadier, and for a long, quiet moment we simply existed there. Our shoulders felt the warmth of the sun, the water holding us up, the world not trying to kill us. She whispered so softly I barely caught it over the sound of the waves.
“You called me love.”
I smiled slightly.
“Yeah.”
Her face lifted, and her eyes searched mine—vulnerable, a question in them she didn’t quite put into words.
“Why?”
My thumb traced across her cheekbone, wiping away thelast streak of blood the ocean had missed.
“Because that’s what you are.”
* * *
Something shifted in the space between us then. She lifted her face and kissed me again, but this time it wasn’t careful.
It carried hunger and need that had nothing to do with adrenaline and everything to do with the simple, staggering fact that we’d both made it back to this moment alive.