by Becca Lee
It had amazed me that despite all of these years, Jo had stayed true to her word and never let on to El how I really felt about her. Initially, she’d taken the piss out of my so-called infatuation, but when El had become involved with Luke, she had seen how affected I was. Shit, I’d been heartbroken. Jo and I had one deep and meaningful chat about El many moons ago, and she’d promised to allow me to tell El when the time was right. Who would have thought that time would have been at her wedding.
As El paddled closer, her infectious grin pulled at me. I wanted to paddle across and crash my lips down on hers. I also wanted to shake the crap out of her and tell her to get the fuck over her past already. Instead, I grinned back.
I watched as she focused on an oncoming wave and enjoyed seeing her face fill up with excitement when she’d made the decision that the wave was hers. She turned and beat down at the water, driving her arms through, determined to claim it.
It was at the moment that she popped up on the board, when my heart filled with pride, that I noticed a surfer veering in from her right on the same wave. The douche was heading right for her.
Fear travelled to the pit of my stomach as I yelled out to El. The greedy wind snatched up my calls and threw them out to sea. Fuck. The fucker is going to take her out.
It was obvious the guy saw her. I saw him look in her direction more than once and angle his body, trying to pick up speed. Dani’s voice screamed out Ella’s name behind me and I forced my arms through the waves, desperation driving me forward.
“Noooo!” Once again, my words were snatched away from me. I cursed and shouted as I helplessly watched on to see the man barrel into her. Flying through the air a couple of feet, I saw her leash become taut before she slammed down into the waves. A moment later, I saw the fucker grab for his board and paddle off, leaving Ella Christ knew where.
I couldn’t see her. Her board popped up in the distance, but still no sign of Ella. I watched in horror as the bobbing board broke free just as I was a few metres away. My heart constricted; she had yet to come up for air.
I dove off my board close to where I had watched hers snap free. Saltwater brutally stung at my eyes and the waves created an impenetrable mist under the water. I couldn’t see anything. As the wave rolled by, the sand and bubbles settled. I saw a flash of red. Hope leaped into my chest. She was wearing red board shorts. My straining lungs were ignored as I dove deeper and reached out for El. I clamped my hand on her arm and pulled, kicking myself to the surface. Air for El, air for me, that’s all we needed at that moment, and we would be fine. The thought pushed me harder.
Breaking the surface, Ella immediately coughed and spluttered. The raw tension in my chest eased. I needed her to be okay. More than anything in the world, I needed her to speak. “El? El?” Her answer was more coughing. Holding her close to me, I eased us towards my board and heaved her on to it. That’s when I noticed the blood. A gentle flow trickled down her face. Her eyes closed, her breathing still frantic, the realisation hit me: there was no more playing. She was mine and I loved her to the core, with all that I had. I needed her to be mine.
The intensity of my feelings made me wobble. I needed to get El safely to shore. I had never been more terrified in my life. Even after my accident, even after all I went through years ago, this moment was it. She was it. Ensuring she was safely on the board, I whispered close to her ear, “I got you, baby.” And I’m never letting you go.
The following ten minutes were a whirlwind of blood and terror. Ella lay broken on the beach. It was enough to force my calm into panic and rage. I’d had countless emergency callouts when it was my job to deal with the rage and brutality of fire. Fire was unforgiving, but this, the water engulfing, trying to swallow Ella, and her falling into unconsciousness had me unravelling.
Being a firefighter, I had to be level-headed. I had to be in control, but when Ella closed her eyes, her pulse weak, my years of training disappeared and I was pushed into a rage. An explosion of rushing blood filled my ears. The ambulance was on its way, but I needed it now. John was by her side, keeping a close eye on El, every thirty seconds or so checking her vitals.
That’s when I heard Dani’s shout.
It wasn’t a shout for help, or a shout of pain; it was a shout mirroring some of what I was feeling. My ears and eyes zeroed in on her. She was about twenty feet away. Her hands were flying around wildly, her face red with anger, tears streaming down her face. I watched on in slow-motion as she pushed at the man before her. He instantly grabbed hold of her arm and refused to let go as she pulled at it.
It was him. The fucker who had wiped Ella out. His green and black rash-vest was proof enough for me.
I leaped up and charged toward him. His back was facing me. He was built, definitely bigger than me, but there was no chance that would stop me. Steel and fire rushed through my veins. I needed to take this fucker out. I’d consider asking questions later.
As I charged into him, he slammed on to the sand with me landing on top. I heard a faint yelp from Dani, and John or maybe Mac in the distance called out my name. I lifted my arm, formed a fist and immediately slammed it into his head. The stupid fuck would pay. I hit again, still not seeing him. The image of his board ramming into El, his body hitting into hers; that was the only vision filling my mind. Going in for another punch, a fist hit me in my ribs, causing me to grunt in pain. This is what I wanted. Hitting me back would just make his pain worse.
I faintly heard a louder, closer shout. It barely registered before I was thrown off from the man under me and Mac was in front of me, trying to hold me back. I roared, “Let me the fuck go, now! This fucking idiot could have killed El.” Saying her name made me turn toward her. I’d left her alone. Guilt ate at me. I closed my eyes, seeing John was actually with her, as were two paramedics.
“Hey, Preston.”
The voice made me freeze. Icy tendrils of dread filtered through my system and settled in my bones.
I knew that voice.
How could I have not seen it? Realised it? All I had seen was red, my anger.
I turned my head.
Ben.
It was that fucker Ben. His lip was cut; an eye was swelling shut, and he wore a smile that had me lurching for him. Mac’s arms held me back. I knew I could have broken through and continued to batter the crap out of him. My body protested when I didn’t, but Dani’s voice made me stall. “They’ve put El on the stretcher and are taking her to the ambulance, Preston.”
I nodded, letting her know I heard. “You,” I spat at Ben. “I have no fucking idea what the hell went down here, but let me tell you this ...” The urge to pummel his face with my bloody fist was strong. I needed to cause him pain. Shit, I wanted to rip his fucking head off. “... this is far from fucking over. When I see you next, you better hope you’re already behind fucking bars, because if I catch up with you, you’re going down.”
His smile looked sinister in his bloodied face. A new look filled his features and his eyes, one I had never seen before, or at least not in real life, only in the movies, and usually from the crazy-arse psycho. How the hell had I not seen this before?
My fists still clenched, I turned and ran towards the paramedics. I heard the words, “You’re right. It’s far from over,” being called out after me.
You better believe it, buddy.
I reached Ella’s side, my heart rapidly pounding when I took in her pale skin. A burning, searing pain hit me hard; she was still unconscious. A mask sat covering her mouth, providing her with oxygen. Walking quickly by the side of the moving stretcher, I kept my eyes firmly fixed on the mask, watching the steady stream of condensation forming of it. She was breathing; as long as she was breathing, everything would be okay and would make sense.
It took me a few moments to realise the paramedic was asking me a stream of questions. John was answering him for me. When we arrived at the ambulance, they secured her on the back and instructed me to sit up front. I did so dumbly. I looked around at
my group of friends before I closed the door. “You got this?” I looked Mac firmly in the eyes as I spoke, knowing I could trust him.
He nodded without hesitation. “I’ve got this.”
I looked over at Dani. Her face was almost as pale as Ella’s. Her eyes were glazed and a steady stream of tears fell down her face. Just as I closed the door, I thought I heard a faint, “It’s all my fault.” I shook it off. This was no one’s fault but Ben’s.
If only I had sorted Ben out as soon as he had shit-stirred Ella a few days earlier, this would never have happened. I was still clueless as to what the hell had really gone down, and was desperate to find out, but sitting in the front of an ambulance, speeding down the street with the sirens on, just wasn’t the time.
I had failed to protect Ella, something that didn’t sit well with me. I saved people; that was what I did. I couldn’t help but think back to the last time I felt this helpless.
It had been a long night. Between my late-night studies, my strict fitness regime and my two part-time jobs, I was exhausted. I looked over at the time on my dash, and the glowing green light told me it was 2:33am. Helping close up the bar was a drag on a Friday night—or rather, Saturday morning. A packed bar meant a shitload of empty glasses, spilt drinks and abandoned bottles. All I wanted to do was head home, fall on my bed and sleep. I had a shift at the garage the next day, and needed to get in some training as my firefighting tests were coming up.
The roads were still fairly busy considering the time, or they were in comparison to what I was used to at home. I’d been staying with my aunt on the Gold Coast for the past few months while training and working. Getting into the fire brigade meant fierce competition, and while the stations in my local vicinity weren’t training recruits, the Goldie was.
The sprinkle of rain began to pick up again. It had been raining throughout the night. The roads were wet and several drunken groups of people were stumbling around, heading home, trying to outrun the quickening downpour. A few lone souls were also caught out, their heads down, rushing forward, no doubt desperate for their dry beds. I took it all in while keeping my eyes on the road ahead, noticing the occasional taxi indicating off to the side to pick up a fare. Coming up to the lights at the crossroads, I sat behind a vehicle, and idled in neutral. Sleep was looking increasingly fine at that moment. Fortunately, my aunt’s place was only a ten-minute drive away, so I knew before long I’d have the satisfaction of my soft pillow.
Green lit up my car as the lights changed. Upping the speed of the wipers as the rain grew heavier; I edged forward at the same time as the vehicle in front. Before long, I was doing a steady 60kph with the same vehicle in front of me. Another set of traffic lights were ahead; their lights on red. Just as I shifted down a gear to slow down and eased on my brakes, the lights changed, enabling me to pick my speed back up. Midway through the junction, I heard a screech and a crash. It took me a moment to realise that the crash was a car hitting mine. The force hit hard, spinning me around and nudging me over into oncoming traffic. My car came to a stop. I took a breath and looked up through my smashed windscreen, my pain yet to register. The car that had rammed into me was barely recognisable as a car.
The bonnet was caved in. The windscreen was now a spray of glass on the road, noticeable from the glint of the streetlights. It was an old car, one that must have been crumbling and barely roadworthy to begin with. I shook my head at my torrent of insignificant thoughts. Still the pain and horror were yet to register.
I knew I had to get out of my car. I couldn’t see any movement in the wrecked vehicle a few metres in front of me. Reaching out my right arm, I attempted to unclasp my buckle. Sharp, searing pain immediately washed over me at the movement. It hit my arm first before travelling down to my legs. I needed to move my legs, but nothing seemed more alien to me at that moment. I willed them to move. I looked around in a panic, hearing cars screeching to a stop, voices hollering in the distance, and the rain hitting my roof even harder. I just needed to move and get my arse out of this car. Nothing I did worked. Wild panic hit my chest. Panting, gasping breaths ripped out of my lungs, creating a new onslaught of pain. I saw the flashing lights before I blacked out.
It wasn’t the same. I couldn’t allow that to happen. This time, I wasn’t helpless. There was no way ... Ella would be just fine. I desperately hoped and needed to believe she just had a mild concussion and would wake up with an egg on her head, feeling hungover. There was no other possible outcome I was willing to imagine.
I pushed open the door as soon as we pulled up outside the hospital. Racing around to the back of the vehicle, I paced while they removed her from the ambulance. I listened carefully, half expecting to hear machines beeping in a frantic rhythm. I was losing my shit.
“Is she okay?” I asked one of the paramedics, all the time keeping my eyes trained on Ella.
The older of the two spoke. “Her BP’s stable. It looks like the bleeding has stopped too.”
“But she’s still unconscious. Surely, that can’t be right.”
“She’s been in and out on the drive over here. She was able to tell me her name. You’re Preston, right?”
I nodded, too anxious to speak. Relief poured through me knowing she’d spoken, but I was too freakin’ terrified to celebrate just yet.
“She asked for you. Said something about you having magic?”
Holy shit! She must have been delirious. Just a few short days ago, we’d been lying in bed and I’d worked her over with my tongue and fingers. She’d gasped, panted and screamed at the time, calling out that I had “magic fingers” and a wicked tongue to match. I’d made her cry out until my tongue ached and I was in fear of my tongue needing some sort of surgery from cramping. Who the fuck gets a cramp in their tongue? I had no fucking clue that was even possible.
Heat spread across my face, and my dick twinged at the memory. When I got her out of here, I was determined she’d be shouting I was a fucking magician. Magic Mike had no flies on me. I’d be taking her to a whole new level.
In the emergency room, with the curtains drawn around us, Ella was now bandaged and medicated. She woke enough to smile at me, glassy-eyed, and whisper she was okay before the doctor had finally said she was now fine to sleep.
When they’d cut off her rash vest to check her over, I’d almost charged out to find Ben, desperately needing to inflict more damage. Her side was already forming a large, black bruise spanning her ribs and waist. They’d X-rayed her and discovered two broken ribs, but had determined that her head was fine. As predicted, she had an egg the size of a mountain on her forehead, and just below it, a gash from where I assumed the fin had caught her.
Knowing she was going to be fine but no doubt as sore as hell did something to ease the ache in my chest and the dread in my stomach, but not completely. This should never have happened, and I had no idea why it had. One thing was for sure, though: I would do everything in my power to make Ben pay.
Chapter Fifteen
Ella
I could barely believe Ben was the reason why I was stuck on my sofa, aching with every breath in. It simply didn’t make sense. He’d been so nice to me at the station—that was, if I ignored the fact that he’d lied to my face and told me bullshit about Preston. But still, nothing about him had screamed psycho.
It had been an uncomfortable journey home. Every bump in the road caused me to gasp, and with every gasp, I could see Preston’s frown become more pronounced. By the time we arrived at my house the next day, Preston’s knuckles had turned white. I half expected him to have difficulty taking my keys out of my bag and opening my front door.
He’d virtually carried me into my house, helped me shower despite my protests—I could walk and stand just fine—and then fussed over me before he’d randomly disappeared with a soft kiss to my forehead, and a long glance at me before I heard him start his truck and speed away.
Confused and sore, I switched off my TV in frustration. I’d been by myself for about thirt
y minutes; it was thirty minutes too long. My brain was overthinking every minor and major detail of the last week, from my whirlwind relationship with Preston to my conversation with Ben. When I had woken properly in the hospital, through my haze I’d felt Preston’s hand gripping mine. It was almost painful. I’d known it was him without even looking. As soon as he realised I was awake enough to speak my first words of, “Why the fuck are trolls dancing in my fucking head?” he’d stood up to lean over me so I could see his face properly without turning and aching even more.
His face was ashen. I discovered I’d been in hospital for just twenty minutes, but the events had seemed so long ago, and by the look of Preston, you would have thought I’d been unconscious for a week. Worry lines creased his eyes and forehead. He’d looked at me, a look which honest to God took my breath away. Worry, fear and a tender warmth spilled out of him. He leaned towards me, painfully slowly. I knew he was going to kiss me. I assumed he was moving so slowly to give me the chance to stop him. I considered it for a moment before a light squeak slipped out of my parted lips. If I hadn’t felt like crap, I would have grabbed hold of his head and hurried him up. I needed this man’s lips on mine.
As the squeak—a noise at any other time I would have been embarrassed by—passed my lips, his eyes widened and he looked at my mouth. Finally, his lips touched mine. A fierce resolve flowed through me. When I’d felt his hands tug at my arm and his words in the ocean, my heart had swelled and practically burst. He was it.
I had been so freakin’ blind and allowed my past to haunt me, so much so that it was necessary to do a gigantic face-palm. Instead, I allowed his lips to press and move against my lips, and revelled in the feel of his tongue as it slipped into my mouth.