Page 41 of The Longshot

“Chelsie!” Ruby raced forward, reaching her hand out to pull me out from the river water.

My teeth started to chatter, and my body fell weak as I reached out for her.

Thankfully, the river wasn’t deep, and I could stand, but the chilling temperature of the water didn't allow me to regain any of my strength.

“Take my hand!” Ruby directed me, leaning in close. “Now!”

Somehow, I was able to muster up enough momentum as I intertwined my soaked mitten with hers. It took a few attempts, but eventually, she pulled me out of the water, her voice breathless as she fell beside me.

“Are you okay?” she spoke, her warm breath was no match to mine.

I tried to nod, but I couldn’t.

I was numb.

I tried to speak, but it was no use.

I was violently shivering.

I tried to move, especially as she attempted to help me up, yet I was stuck.

Too frail.

I could see the panic in Ruby’s eyes as she assessed my frame, pondering what to do, until suddenly, she scooped me into her arms, held me close, and carried me out of the woods and into our family home.

The second we stepped inside, my parents frantically raced around the house, doing everything in their power to change me into dry clothing, turn on the fireplace, and wrap me in drapes of blankets—all the while, I started to think.

I’ll never be colder than I am right now.

But I was wrong. Now, standing here, reflecting on my six-year-old trauma, I know it to be true.

Because nothing, absolutely nothing, has chilled me to my core quite like hearing my name fall from his mouth.

“Chelsie.”

Simon’s voice is careful as he guides himself into the bakery, breaking me away from my troubling flashback and back into reality.

I’m not sure which is worse.

This can’t be happening. This must be a dream, right?

No, I stopped having those.

This is real.

He’s here.

“Fuck.”

He takes the word right out of my mouth, only using it as a way to express his relief and not sheer panic, an emotion he elicits within me.

“I’ve been looking everywhere for you,” he announces, his body inches away from mine by now. “God, Chelsie. I—I’ve missed you so much.”

The second we make contact, I stop breathing.

There’s not a single thing about him that I’ve missed. Nothing. And now that he’s here, back in front of me, hand placed on my arm, I know something for certain. The best choice I’ve ever made was leaving him and never looking back.

I bite down on my lower lip to suppress the tears that I can feel forming in my eyes. I can’t allow him to see me cry. I refuse to give him that satisfaction. Instead, I divert my attention towards the real question at hand—the only thing I need an explanation for.

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