High Tide

by Alyson Santos

  “It’s okay, honey.”

  I blink back sudden tears and nod. Where the heck did those come from?

  She holds both my arms now, and I have no choice but to face her compassion. “Your ‘stuff’ is my stuff too. Just like my house is yours. You’re my family, Emma. You will always have a place in my heart and my home no matter what our addresses are, okay? The condo I’m looking at has two bedrooms. I’d like you to come see it and decide if you like it too before I sign anything. Even if you decide not to live there, it’s important to me that you know you always can.”

  A tear escapes and slips down my cheek. “Really?”

  “Of course. I know change is hard for you, but it’s just a house, okay?”

  I force a smile with my nod. Just a house. I’m just losing a house. But this time when the panic floods back it’s not a notebook my fingers unconsciously reach for. It’s a green-flecked gaze and strong arms that would understand why it’s so much more than that.

  We walk far along the beach, and I do good job of convincing Gram I’m fine while searching each chair for a sign of Christian. Just a glimpse, a brief wave of relief should be enough. We never see him though, and I’m struck by the ache at each disappointment. Funny how I went from avoiding him to resenting every wasted second we’re apart.

  I glance down at my phone when it buzzes with a text from Harper.

  Hurry back. We have to go.

  Huh? My heartrate picks up as I return a call.

  “What is it?” Gram asks, shuffling faster to match my pace.

  “Not sure. Just got a strange message from Harper. She says to hurry back.” The phone continues to ring until it goes to voicemail. “Crap, she’s not answering.” I’m practically running now and only eluding an all-out sprint for Gram’s sake. The return path seems twice as long as our initial hike, though, and by the time we approach familiar landmarks, we’re panting for breath. Gotta hand it to Gram. She’s holding her own.

  “Whew,” she says as we wind our way back up the beach toward our spot. “That was quite the workout.”

  “I know. I’m sorry. Do you see Harper?” I scan the area for any sign of my roommate. Something thick moves in my chest when I realize our beach gear is noticeably absent. Panic starts to mount until a flash of familiar blonde hair catches my attention on the dune bridge. “Over there,” I call to Gram who follows.

  Harper sees us as well, and soon I’m being dragged up the steps and toward the parking lot.

  “What’s going on?” I ask.

  “We have to go. I just got a call from Jakub.”

  “Is he okay?”

  “He’s fine, but Christian’s in the hospital.”

  My stomach crashes into the asphalt. “What? Is he…”

  Her eyes widen when she sees my face. “Oh, no, sorry! I think he’s okay. I mean, he’s hurt, but not seriously? I don’t really know. Jakub didn’t say much. Something about a rescue.”

  Yeah that doesn’t help. “Christian made a rescue or was rescued?”

  “Um… not sure.”

  “But he’s hurt?”

  “Well, not really clear on that either.”

  Shit. I still can’t breathe as we pile into Harper’s jeep and search the GPS for the hospital Jakub said—one of the few things he did include in his report apparently.

  “I’m sure he’s fine, sweetie,” Gram says, squeezing my arm from the backseat.

  I toss her a weak smile that does nothing to stop the nervous bounce of my knee. Seriously, I’m going to knock us off the road if I continue at this pace. I suck in a long breath and fire off a quick text to Christian. I’m sure he won’t answer, but…?

  Heard you’re in the hospital. We’re on our way. You okay?

  After a few seconds of no response, my knee returns to its aggressive vibrating. I stare out the window to try to distract myself as we snail-forward on the longest drive in the history of drives. For real, is this hospital in another state? I glance at the GPS and see we’ve only progressed two miles on a seven-mile trip. Two miles? How have we only gone two miles?

  Harper reaches over and pushes down on my knee to stop it. “He’s okay, Emma. I promise.”

  “How can you promise that? You said you didn’t know.”

  I stare back at my blank phone screen.

  “I just do. Jakub would have said more.”

  “Really? Because maybe he’s waiting to say it in person—oh god, what if…?” Tears well in my eyes as my breathing shifts into shallow gasps. I can’t lose someone else. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t. I can’t.

  My trembling knee seems to have spread through the rest of me, the air thick and in short supply. I reach shaking fingers toward the vent.

  Run, Emma!

  I can’t.

  Breathe.

  I can’t!

  Slight pressure eases down my arm in a gentle stroke. Then back up. Then down. I close my eyes and focus on Gram’s touch. Up. Down. Up.

  We still haven’t heard from the guys by the time we pull into a parking spot near the hospital. Harper makes one last attempt to call Jakub, and the atmosphere of the car lifts with relief when he answers. She puts the phone on speaker.

  “We’re here,” Harper says to him. “Where should we meet you?”

  “In emergency. Christian is still with doctors.”

  “Is he okay?” I blurt out.

  “Emma? Is that you?”

  “Yes. Hi, Jakub. How’s Christian?”

  “Well, I think he is fine. He was not hurt very much. The woman, she is going to be okay too maybe.”

  I exchange a look with Harper who shrugs. “Okay, we’ll talk more inside. Be right there,” she says.

  I’m already halfway out the door by the time she hangs up. After helping Gram from the back (she always insists on squeezing back there), I rush toward the emergency sign.

  The waiting area is smaller than I expect, and Jakub pushes up from a chair when he sees me.

  “Hey, Emma.”

  “Where is he?” I ask, looking past him for any sign of Christian. Of course there’s nothing to see except the seating area and check-in desk on this side of a locked door. A few other spectators look on with interest, and I wonder if they’re here for Christian as well. Maybe they’re connected to “the woman” Jakub referred to earlier?

  “He is still with the doctor.”

  “What happened?”

  “Well, a woman she was pulled in the riptide. Christian rescue her but he gets many cuts from shells and rocks.” He holds up his arms in demonstration, then waves over the rest of his body. “Much here.” His hand skims the left side of his torso. “But that is all.”

  At least I’m starting to breathe better. “So he’s okay? Just banged up?”

  “Banged up?”

  “Many cuts,” I repeat.

  Jakub nods and grins. “Yes, he looks like tough guy now. A badass?” His infectious laugh even manages to draw a smile from me. Yep, this guy is definitely the male Slovak version of Harper. I guess that makes sense since his BFF is my soulmate… wait no, I mean, similar to me—not soulmate because that’s nuts. Am I blushing at my own thoughts?

  Harper and Gram burst into the waiting area and save me from further self-embarrassment. They seem to relax when they see us, or more specifically, when they see my lack of freaking out. We repeat the update for them and take seats to wait. I’ve barely gotten comfortable when I notice a young woman a few years older than we are sending me curious looks. I return one directly, and she shifts to the seat beside me with a shy smile.

  “Are you friends with the lifeguard? Christian, I think?”

  “His girlfriend, actually,” I say. A stream of warmth shoots through me at hearing the words. I feel Harper’s approval from her seat next to Jakub.

  The woman nods, her expression melting with emotion. “What he did…” She swipes at her eyes and holds up a hand. “Sorry, just…”

  “It’s okay,” I say gently.

&n
bsp; She forces a weak smile through her tears and clears her throat. “What I’m trying to say is that he saved my mother’s life. I know that was his job, but even afterwards he wouldn’t let anyone help him until she was stable and on her way to the hospital. He’s… You’re a very lucky woman.”

  The warmth spreads into a full-on blaze. Emma Andrews… lucky? Never. At least, not until a hypnotic lifeguard butted into my life.

  “Yes, I’m very lucky.” My smile leaks out from somewhere deep inside me. I have a feeling I’m just beginning to learn how lucky. The bounce in my knee shifts from nervousness to anticipation. If those doctors don’t let me see him soon, I’ll be breaking down doors.

  There’s no sign of them, however, so thank goodness for my new friend. Not only is she a great distraction, she was also a front-row witness who can provide much-needed details about the rescue that Jakub’s version lacked. Apparently, her mother was wading despite the strong rip current warning when she got caught and pulled out to sea. Christian managed to reach her and bring her back, but not without suffering some serious abuse at the hands of the rough water and shell-crusted sandbar himself. From her perspective, he was bloody and cut up, but seemed in otherwise good health when he finally agreed to a hospital visit. He had refused at first until the paramedics insisted he needed stitches for the worst of the cuts. Her mother, Carol, was being treated for the water she inhaled, as well as a few minor injuries, and expected to make a full recovery. She has a heart condition so they’re taking extra precautions.

  Harper of course had a hundred questions throughout the story and kept sending obnoxious isn’t-that-hot looks at each illustration of Christian’s superhero status. It is, and also, what’s taking them so damn long? It can’t be that hard to stitch a few cuts. It feels like forever by the time the doctor finally appears to tell us we can go see him.

  I’m the first through the door, following at a creepy-close distance because the doctor isn’t moving fast enough. When she points to Christian’s bed, I practically leap forward. His eyes widen with surprise when he sees me, but the smile that follows soothes any sting that he hadn’t expected me.

  “Hey, Superman,” I say, suddenly shy for some reason. His smile at my teasing spreads into a grin that shoots straight through my stomach. I want to capture it and put it in a pretty frame on my mantle like a cheesy prom picture. Fitting, I guess, since I feel like a middle-schooler approaching the high school quarterback all of a sudden. How do I use words again?

  My gaze falls to his bare chest, and the sweet moment fades. Damn, it’s ugly. As promised, scratches and bruises swathe the left side of his chest, except for the bright white bandage taped over one section. A few stitches sew together a cut on his chin and several patches of shallow scrapes litter the rest of him. He looks like he was dragged along a highway, not the ocean floor.

  I want nothing more than to pull him into my arms, but don’t dare touch him beyond taking his right hand that seems relatively unscathed. Is that the only place?

  “I’m okay,” he says quietly, as if reading my mind.

  I force out a weak smile for his sake and hold tighter to his hand. “I was so scared when they said you were here.”

  “It is nothing. Just a few cuts.”

  I angle his face toward me to study the damage, but when those lethal eyes rest on mine, any chance of evaluating injuries fades away. Instead, my gaze falls to full lips that look entirely too healthy. Just a quick kiss. It would be fair payment for the hell I’ve suffered since the text. His eyes are on my lips too. I feel it before I see it. Sense how much a kiss would help counteract the pain. It’s only mercy, really. Altruism at its purest. My fingers shift to trace the path first. So soft and tempting. He blinks at my touch, waiting.

  “Hey, you!” Harper calls.

  Crap. I drop my hand at the interruption, and Christian almost smirks as he laces his fingers with mine instead.

  Jakub enters the frame as well, spouting something in Slovak, then laughs hysterically when Christian barks something back at him. Even with Christian distracted from me, my smile remains in place. It feels right to be here, the one holding his hand through crisis. The one who gets to worry and care and accept responsibility and praise on his behalf. I’m his and he’s mine and there’s no other way I want it to be. Plus, Jakub’s right. He’s crazy hot as a tough-guy-badass. How long until I can take my hero home?

  I’m still calculating his injuries for logistical purposes when the doctor returns. She explains she has no other concerns about Christian’s condition, and as long as the patient feels ready, he’s free to go. I don’t think anyone’s surprised when Christian readily agrees, and the doctor leaves to trigger the discharge paperwork. Another woman, who’d been hovering nearby, joins us a second later. I vaguely recognize her from the waiting room.

  “Christian, how are you?” she asks in that fake, sweet tone of someone who’s required to care about something.

  “Fine, Stacy. I am okay.”

  “Are you sure?” It’s then that I notice the thick folder of papers in her hand. Uh-oh.

  Christian nods, his gaze resting on the folder as well.

  “Well, I’m so relieved to hear that. The doctor said you are cleared for release, so let’s take a moment to fill out the paperwork before you go.”

  “Paperwork?” I ask. There’s Christian’s warning look again, begging me to keep my mouth shut. After what happened the last time I ignored it, I need to try harder this time. Still…

  “Just some formalities for insurance and stuff,” Stacy says. Ah, she must be from corporate. “You understand.”

  I do, which is why I roll my eyes and force away the grunt. Does he? I can’t tell, but I don’t like the way his hand tightens around mine.

  “Sure. Makes sense. I’m going stick around and help, if that’s okay,” I say.

  Her gaze shifts to mine in challenge, and I stare right back. “It will involve sensitive and personal information, so it’s up to Christian, of course.”

  “Please stay,” he says. After the look he gives me, there’s no way I won’t.

  I actually hug Kozy when he arrives at our dorm. Lame, I know, but he doesn’t seem to mind and returns it with a laugh. His mother drove him and his belongings so I get a bonus hug from her as well.

  “Looking good, Tian,” he says, shoving my shoulder after the greetings. ”I’ll admit I was worried about you when you took off but it looks like you’ve got your shit together.”

  “I always figure things out,” I say, smiling. As usual, I keep the long version of the story to myself. “Want to see our room?”

  “Lead the way!”

  I take him and Auntie through the lobby and up the stairs to the third floor. Our room is prime real-estate. Located at the end of the hall, we will have no neighbors to the left and an extra window to brighten the space.

  Kozy beams in approval, clearly impressed. Not bad for two poor kids from the east, his smirk says, and I couldn’t agree more. I don’t tell him that our original assignment was a shitty room on the fifth floor. Filip insisted we take this one, and I suspect he bumped a more privileged student to free it for us.

  “Guess this is my side?” he asks, waving to the empty bed. “Hard to tell though,” he teases.

  I shrug and survey my sparse half of the room. Personally, I’m proud of my sheets, blanket, and small stack of food on the shelves that I bought with my first paycheck. I only moved in two days ago, and after sleeping on the street and having no clue where my next meal would come from, I feel like a fucking king.

  “It’s beautiful, boys,” Auntie says to both of us, though her gaze rests longer on me. I pull mine away, not liking the way she searches for more. I got here, didn’t I? Why should the rest matter? I don’t need help and I sure as hell don’t need sympathy. It’s my story and no one else’s.

  “Thanks,” I say, moving back into the hall. “Let’s get the rest of your stuff and then I’ll introduce you to Filip.”
/>
  Chapter Seventeen: Leave and Letting Go

  Jakub carries Christian’s duffle bag into our apartment and drops it by the door.

  “A week off to party with two hot girls? Maybe I get hurt also,” he jokes, then snickers at his friend’s dark look. Christian wasn’t happy about the forced leave and restrictions placed on him. I saw the way he bristled when Stacy the HR Director spouted a bunch of legal mumbo jumbo that boiled down to, “we’re covering our asses, so you’re out-of-commission until you’re cleared.” And when the doctor refused to schedule a follow-up evaluation for at least seven days, I thought my boyfriend was going to detonate. As usual, though, he seemed to tuck the emotion away and seethe quietly instead, his fist clenching and unclenching until I soothed it in mine and took over the negotiations. After checking on Carol’s condition and with discharge/HR paperwork in hand, it was another hour before we left the hospital with a solid plan to return the following Thursday for a checkup. Until then, Harper and I have a new roommate.

  Christian didn’t seemed thrilled about that plan either, but when the four of us teamed up against him, he didn’t stand a chance. (Yes, even Gram weighed in as a big supporter of Team Stay with the Ladies). With Jakub away all day, we didn’t want Christian home alone to brood and heaven-knows-what-else in his resistant state. Besides, it wasn’t going to be easy cleaning and changing those dressings by himself, and the whole thing seemed like a no-brainer when there were two perfectly capable amateur nurses at his disposal. The plan is a template of logic and would be the same if any one of us had swapped places with him. So why does he look ready to punch his good hand through a wall now that we’re home? I take it and tug him toward my room, half-expecting him to pull away as we walk down the hall.

  “What’s going on?” I ask once we’re alone. I drop to the bed and pull him down beside me. He winces, adjusting gingerly. “Can I look at that? Your bandage should be changed. It’s been a couple of hours.”

  “I’m fine.”