Page 8 of Emi's Hero

He brought her hand up, rubbing his fingers over hers. “You’re not dead.”

“Need,” she said and coughed.

“Need what?” he leaned closer.

“To...be...dead,” she said as if it took all her strength to form those words.

With a frown, George shook his head. Had she attempted suicide by drowning? His heart pinched hard in his chest. He’d known a couple of his buddies from his Marine Force Recon days who’d committed suicide. After they’d left the militaryand battled with PTSD, they hadn’t been able to reconcile their experiences in battle with the civilian world and cashed in.

George had been in some dark places before. He’d come close to that same kind of despair where he’d felt the only way out of it was to end his life. However, he’d found his way back, though he still had nightmares and still fought his own demons.

He had the Brotherhood now. Maybe what this woman needed at that moment was a friend—someone who would listen and take her darkness seriously. No matter what she needed, he wasn’t going to let her go down without a fight. “Sorry, sweetheart. Not on my watch. Whatever is wrong, dying isn’t the solution.”

For a long moment, she didn’t speak or move. Her hand was limp in his.

“You need a doctor,” he said softly. “I’m calling for an ambulance.”

Instantly, her hand gripped his with surprise strength. Her eyes opened, glassy yet feral. “No.” She tried to rise.

“Hey, easy there.” His free hand pressed against her shoulder, urging her to remain on the bench.

She gripped his hand tighter. “No one can know I didn’t die. Please. No one can see me.” She drew a ragged breath, and a tear rolled down her cheek. “Promise,” she whispered.

George frowned down at her. “But you almost drowned. You need a hospital.”

She shook her head, her eyes boring into his, her hand squeezing his tightly. “Promise.”

That single tear and the desperation in her voice and expression wrecked George’s resolve to get her to a hospital. She was afraid of something or someone. So afraid that she’d rather be thought dead with no one the wiser than go to a hospital.

“Promise,” she said, wilting back against the bench, her strength seeming to leech from her body. “No one must know.”

“I promise,” he said, wanting her to feel safe from whatever had her so terrified. “I promise. No one will know you survived.”

She lay still, her fingers loosening around his. Her eyelids drifted closed.

“Are you still with me?” he asked.

She lay silently for a moment, then answered, “I am.”

“Can I do anything for you? Water? Food?”

Without opening her eyes, she replied, “Water.”

He grabbed a bottle of water from the small cooler, twisted off the cap and helped her sit up. With an arm around her shoulders, he propped her up and pressed the bottle to her lips.

She took several sips before her head dropped back against him.

“What’s your name?” he asked.

“Emi,” she said and went limp in his grasp.

“Emi, can I do anything else for you?” he asked as he eased her back onto the bench.

Her lips moved, and she whispered. George leaned closer and yet couldn’t quite make out her words.

He thought she might have said something like,Help me save her.

“Save who?” he asked.

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