Page 178 of Whistle

He didn’t look like he had before, his body moving with the current instead of against it.

He’s in trouble.

The distance between us might have been daunting, but the reward at the end was worth it. He was worth it.

Doubling down, I swam through the waves, letting the current push me closer until my fingertips met his skin. Grabbing his arm, I towed him in, pushing his face to the side and smacking his cheek.

“Em!” I panted. “Emmett!”

His lashes fluttered, but he didn’t open his eyes.

Reaching beneath the surface, I fumbled until I found what I knew would be around his neck and pulled it free.

My first attempt was weak, water spurting everywhere.

The second time, it was a little stronger, and the watery whistle blew.

His lashes lifted, and I let the whistle fall between us and covered his lips with mine, forcing air into his mouth.

He pulled back, wide-eyed and stunned. “Don’t give me your air! You need it more than me.”

A laugh bubbled up inside me alongside my swelling heart.

“I love you,” I confessed because I almost never got the chance.

He crushed our lips together, his beard abrasive against my icy skin and the lack of heat between us a mere afterthought.

A wave smacked into us, and he cursed, pulling back and turning his shoulders to block me from the worst. “We need to get the hell out of here.”

We worked together, both of us swimming to get to the bank. I collapsed partway out, landing in grass and mud but too tired to even cringe.

I lay on my back, body completely spent, as the chilly night air tried to peel my skin off my damn bones. My teeth started chattering, and then a heavy weight fell on top of me, not at all warm but a nice buffer for that skin-ripping wind.

“You are so getting a spanking for this.”

Laughter gurgled out of me, something that felt so foreign and probably inappropriate considering the entire situation, but I couldn’t hold it in.

“I mean it,” he groused. “Your ass is going to hurt for a week.”

“Yes, Daddy,” I whispered, turning my face toward his.

Our gazes met, never once looking away. I’d seen him many times, but I’d never seen him like this.

I’d never seen him through the eyes of a fighter instead of a victim. Turned out I loved him just as much through both.

“You swam out there,” he said, his voice gravelly as though his vocal cords were wrecked.

I nodded. “Those waves were gnarly.”

“Fought your trauma to help me fight mine.”

“We don’t have to fight alone anymore, Em. We have each other now.”

His eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot, his lips nearly colorless against his beard. Water dripped off his nose, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m never gonna let you go.”

I made a sound. “You made that clear when you leaped off a fucking bridge.”

Instead of laughing, he nodded solemnly. “There is nothing I won’t do for you, Goldilocks. I love you.”

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