Page 65 of One Last Chance

He swallowed, his voice turning hoarse. “I spotted her in the churn and dove out of the boat for her—our fingertips met, but then she went under.”

He looked away, blowing out a breath. “She never surfaced.” He met her eyes again. She wore a haunted look in her expression. He did too, probably.

“I was screaming for help, and Dodge and Moose showed up, and by that time I was in real trouble. I’d hit my shoulder on one of the rocks searching for her and then went down again and managed to get a foot jammed. I would have drowned if Moose hadn’t dragged me out. As it was, they had to carry me out. I broke my tibia in two places, dislocated my shoulder, and sort of lost it in the hospital when I found out the sheriff’s office couldn’t recover her.”

She nodded. Didn’t speak. But her eyes glistened.

He looked away. “But that wasn’t the worst of it.” He met her eyes. “A month later, a hunter found her body. It was washed up onshore, down the river. But the thing was, she had been shot.”

“With a .270 Winchester.”

“Yeah. Of course, I didn’t know that detail until years later—I just knew that she’d survived going over the falls, and if I’d kept looking . . .”

“Axel.”

He held up a hand. “No. See, that’s not a huge blame jump, is it?”

Her mouth made a thin line. “My mentor, Eve, says that you can’t blame yourself for the actions of others. You tried. And yeah, you couldn’t find her. But her getting murdered is not your fault. That is the fault of the killer. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

He shrugged.

“But you still feel like you have a chain around your neck, pulling you down.”

“Like I’m drowning and can never get enough air.” And he’d never told anyone that before. “How did you?—”

“Me too. Regret. The sense of frustration. The helplessness. Right?”

He nodded. “Every time I rescue someone, it feels like I can breathe. Only for a moment. It doesn’t last, but . . . it helps.”

“Yeah. I get that too. My chief thinks I’m obsessed. I’m not. I’m just trying to . . . well, as you put it, stay above water.”

She leaned forward. Reached out and touched his hand. “So maybe we just need to figure out how to both get on the door.”

It took a moment.Oh, right. Rose and Jack. He turned, wove her fingers between his. Met her eyes.

What was happening here? He’d known her for all of twenty-four hours, —maybe forty-eight if he included the radio chat. And yet . . .

And yet she’d found her way past all his barriers as if they weren’t even there. As if she’d always belonged inside his heart.

“I hope you like salted caramel. This is one of my favorites.”

He let go of Flynn’s hand. Tillie set a creamy milkshake in front of him, another in front of Flynn.

“I put toffee pieces on the top. It’s amazing.”

Flynn reached for the cherry on top of the whipped cream. “It looks amazing.”

He unsheathed his straw. “Thanks, Tillie.”

“Okay, then. Eat your fries; they’re getting cold.” She tucked the tray under her arm and headed away.

“She’s a little bossy,” Flynn said.

“I think that’s why Moose likes her. He doesn’t have to be in charge for once.”

She stuck her straw in, took a sip. He did the same.

“Delicious,” she said.

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