Page 10 of Failure to Match

I could see the warm lantern lights rippling across the pool’s surface, I just couldn’t seem to reach them no matter how hard my legs kicked or my arms pushed. In fact, instead of moving closer, I seemed to be floating farther and farther away. Almost like I was being dragged down by something.

The realization hit just as my heels touched the bottom of the pool.

I full-on panicked.

The dress.

Not only were the layers of fabric getting in the way of my kicks, but they were about a hundred pounds heavier when wet. It was like having an anchor wrapped around my body.

It wasn’t a dream. I was about to drown for real.

I released my clutch and reached behind me. But no matter how much I flailed and fumbled, my fingers couldn’t find the tiny zipper pull.

Ria was going to murder me when she found out I died while she was on her honeymoon. She’d be so pissed. I’d never hear the end of it, especially if the whole afterlife thing turned out to be real. She’d hunt me down the second she got there.

We’d made a pact eight years ago to pass away in our sleep together, holding hands, in the retirement home we’d spent a decade wreaking awesome havoc on. Like the chaotic best friend version ofThe Notebook.

And Toebeans was going to think I abandoned him. Though, to be fair, he’d probably get over it pretty quick. Ria would adopt him, and he was such a cuddle slut for her husband that he’d forget I ever even existed?—

My grim train of thought sputtered to a halt when a large pair of hands circled my waist from behind. Next thing I knew, I was being pulled up, up… up…

Only to sink straight back down. My lungs were burning.

What the actual fuck was this stupid dress made of? Cement?

I twisted around (with alotof effort) when my feet touched the bottom again, only to come face to face with averypissed-off Jackson Sinclair. The man had absolutely mastered the art of the furious scowl.

I shook my head at him, gesturing at my dress. But before I could point to the zipper running down my back, he’d hooked his fingers underneath the sweetheart neckline of the stupid deathtrap and wastearing it straight down the middle. Like it was fucking paper.

He bared his teeth, his corded muscles bulging out of his white shirt as he ripped the fabric open, right before he helped me kick my way out of it. I’d have been really impressed if my lungs weren’t on scorching fire.

I shot up to the surface, my chest screaming, yelling,pleadingfor relief. And I almost made it too. I was so, so close—mere inches away from the rippling lights—when my spasming lungs caved. I inhaled and choked, my body attempting to expel the water as something gripped my waist and hoisted me up toward the lights.

I broke through the surface with a gasp. My vision was practically nonexistent, my lungs working overtime to hoard as much oxygen as possible through all the violent coughing. I flailed, gasped, kicked, trying to find something to hold on to through the blinding blur of tears, pool water, and terror. I was vaguely aware of being twisted around by an external force just before my fingers managed to find purchase against something warm and solid.

I clung to it with shaking desperation as I continued to cough and choke, and before I knew it, my heels were scraping the bottom of the pool again. This time, though, my head and shoulders were above the water.

“Bensen!”

The warm, solid thing I was now fully pressed against vibrated when the deep, husky voice barked the order.

“All taken care of, sir. The staff are on their way, and I’ve sent someone to notify the Ms. Harrisons. They’ll be expecting you.”

“Call Dr. Santos. She inhaled a bunch of water.”

“Right away, sir.”

I wanted to swipe the wetness from my eyes, but my fingers refused to pry open. I was holding on to fistfuls of Jackson’s shirt like my life depended on it. Because it genuinely felt like my life depended on it. My panicking brain was convinced that if I let go, I’d plummet to the bottom of the pool again.

I didn’t know how long we stood there, but it was long enough for my vision to clear, the coughing to subside, and my brain to calm down enough to register the fact that I was naked.The dress had been padded, so I had nothing else on except a pair of shoes and panties. Oh, and I was still pressed flush against Jackson Sinclair’s chest.

Forcing my fingers loose, I stepped away and lowered myself until I was neck-deep in the water, my arms wrapping protectively around my bare chest.

Not that it really mattered. Jackson’s eyes were cast skyward, fists tight at his sides. He’d let me go right after we’d made it to the shallow end of the pool, it was me who’d held on to him.

“Can you step out of the water by yourself?” he asked the stars through clenched teeth.

“Yes. Yup. Thanks.”

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