Page 80 of Riptide

Like I left whatever was alive in me out there with him. Like I should’ve gone under too.

My lungs cease. The world tilts. The memory wraps around me like a riptide, and I can’t tell if I’m breathing at all. Everything gets too loud and too far away at the same time. I try to pull air into my chest, but it won’t come. My throat’s closing. My heart’s slamming against my ribs like it’s trying to knock through my ribcage. My fingers tingle, my knees go soft, and I don’t even know if I’m still standing.

The waves roar.

The panic roars louder.

I’m going under and…

“Finn.” His fingers curl around my jaw. “Breathe. Baby, look at me.”

I do. I drag my eyes up to his, and the second I see his face, I start shaking.

“I can’t—” I gasp. “I thought I—I—Fuck.”

“It’s okay.” He steps closer, wrapping his arms around me. “You don’t have to do this. Just breathe with me.” He exhales slowly, loud and deliberate. I feel his breath hitting my cheek, his chest rising against my palms. In. Out. Again. The sound ofhis breathing distracts me from the sounds echoing around my mind.

I bury my face in his chest. He’s warm and real and smells like laundry and comfort and safety, and I try to match my breathing to his, but everything still feels too tight, too wound up. Too much. My legs give out, but he catches me, arms locking around my waist as my body folds. His strength doesn’t falter once as we sink together, knees hitting the sand, his grip unyielding, his warmth wrapping around the cold shaking my bones.

“I’m here,” he murmurs, his hand moving slowly up and down my back as he effortlessly holds me and all my broken pieces together. “I want you to name me five ways to eat a potato.”

I’d laugh if I wasn’t in the throes of an attack because,potatoes? I clutch the back of his jacket, fists full of fabric, and focus on the sound of his voice. The weight of him. The way his palm presses into the base of my spine like an anchor.

“Mashed…”Breathe. “Fries.”Breathe. “Roasted.”Breathe.

Little by little, my lungs start to work again.

“Two more for me baby, come on.”

“Baked and… chips,” I force out with a cry.

He pulls me in closer. I don’t know how, because I feel like it’s impossible, every inch of me encompassed by him, but he moves in, burying his face into my neck now, inhaling deeply. It takes me a second to register the relief in him too. I don’t know how long we sit there, but he never lets go, never lessens the embrace surrounding me. When I finally lift my head, only then does he shift his weight. I’m not sure what that does to my nervous system, but something inside me feels like it’s taken a giant deep breath. The idea that he waited for me to be ready to let him go… I don’t know if he realizes how much that means to me.

The breeze whips across my damp face. My body aches in a way that has nothing to do with hard work. And yet, all I can think of is how much I’ve just unloaded onto him.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” His hand brushes my hair off my face, but it pings right back. “You’re not broken.”

I want to believe him. I want to climb into the space he’s offering and stay there forever, because he makes me believe it. He’s solid, and I’ve never been good at being still. It’s like he knows how to be when I don’t even know how to stay with myself.

“Come on,” he says, untangling us and standing slowly, offering me his hand. “I’ve got you.”

***

We don’t say much on the walk back.

Foxx keeps my hand in his, thumb brushing over my knuckles now and then, like he needs the contact as much as I do. The wind’s died down. The ocean’s still behind us, but it doesn’t feel as loud anymore. My body’s wrecked, but my mind is wired and restless.

Inside the room, it’s warm and quiet. I sit on the edge of the bed, pulling off my shoes, when the second one gets stuck. Foxx kneels in front of me, helping me unlace it. He doesn’t say anything. Just touches my ankle softly as he slips the shoe off and sets it aside.

“I think I need to shower,” I murmur.

He nods. “Want me to sit nearby?”

I do. I can’t say it out loud, but I do and, somehow, he knows that.

The bathroom fills with steam quickly. I step under the water and let it hit my skin until the chill in my bones begins to thaw. I wash the salt from my neck. The sand from my hands. The tears from my face. The worst of the past from the edges of my memory and watch the water disappear down the drain.

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