Page 177 of Whistle

I coughed, air bubbling out around me, bursting right in front of my face. Still, Brynne floated there. Haunting me… always haunting me. Blaming me for her death.

“I’m sorry!” My scream was muffled by the water, but I knew she heard it anyway.

As I stared, she lifted her finger and pressed it to her lips. Shhhhh.

The water and her body faded away, and the pummeling current no longer assaulted me. Everything was blissfully still.

I was standing in the shadows of the pool at Pembrook, watching an unfolding scene. A scene I knew all too well. A scene my therapist constantly wanted me to imagine, but I never would.

It seemed that right now, though, my mind’s last wish before death stole all was for me to relive the night Brynne died.

I saw them arguing, watched their lips move, but couldn’t hear their words. I strained, leaned closer, but to no avail. Brynne yanked her wrist free from Lucas Cobalt’s grasp, and his eyes and nostrils flared.

Gone was the arrogant swimmer, and in his place was an angry man who didn’t like to be told no.

He pulled her back, and she shoved him.

He grabbed her and smashed their lips together.

She bit him, and he wrenched back, pressing the back of his hand against his lip.

She spit at his feet, my sister, the original brat, and the curtain of her hair fanned out around her as she rushed away.

Cobalt was bigger. Faster. He grabbed her arm, tugged her around, and raised his hand at the same time. He open-palm slapped her with enough force to send her flailing backward.

She slipped.

Fell.

The crack of her skull would forever haunt my nightmares.

Cobalt picked her up and tossed her into the pool. The water slowly seeped into her hair, her clothes…

The vision faded, and I was back in the river, my lungs on fire, vision hazy. I kicked toward the surface, but my legs were sluggish.

Try again.

I can’t. I’m tired. My sister is dead.

You can. I believe in you. The last words Emmett had said as I slipped under the water cut through everything else.

Emmett who literally jumped off a bridge to get to me. Emmett who was looking for me right now.

And just like that, I knew. I knew who I was, who I wanted to be.

A fighter.

No more giving up. No more licking my wounds and accepting defeat. Sure, I was a fuck-up, but I wasn’t the only one. If everyone else could start over, then I sure as fuck could too.

And I knew exactly what I wanted. Who I wanted.

The anxiety and trauma throwing punches and holding me under? I started swinging back. And all this water? Well, I was Elite.

I might not have been as conditioned as I once was, but I was still a swimmer and a fucking good one at that. All the training I’d told myself I’d forgotten clicked, and I started moving through the water, pulling myself to the surface, saving myself from drowning.

The second I was above, I searched for Em, finding him farther away than before.

“Em!” I yelled, dipping a little but pushing right back up. “Em!”

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