Page 30 of Make Out With A Merman

“I can’t” she coughs. “It pulled”

“We know,” I say. “We’re getting you out.”

Ryder nods at me, jaw clenched. “On three. You take her left. I’ve got right.”

We move together without speaking, without thinking. I don’t even feel the cold anymore. Just her weight, her shaking, and his strength steady beside me.

When we hit shallows, I trip once in the drag, knees bruising on rock but we don’t stop until she’s flat on the sand, coughing, pale butbreathing.

Jason sprints over with towels and blankets. Julie’s radio crackles in the background. Campers crowd at the edge, worried but silent.

And me?

I fall backward into the mud, chest heaving, and start laughing. Hysterically.

“Ofcoursethe lake has weather mood swings now,” I gasp. “Why not? Next it’ll start texting threats.”

Ryder drops down beside me, soaked and silent, eyes locked on the lake like it personally offended him.

“That,” he says, voice rough, “was too damn close.”

“She’s okay,” I whisper, more to convince myself than anyone else.

He nods, jaw flexing. “That squall wasn’t natural.”

I glance sideways. “You think it’s connected?”

“Iknowit is.”

The weight of those words sits heavy in my chest.

We sit there for a minute, shoulder to shoulder, soaked in silence.

And I realize, not for the first time, how much this man carries.

Not just rules and rotas and rescue drills.

Everything.

And somehow, when I’m next to him, the world feels a little steadier. Not calmer, necessarily. But anchored.

I don’t say any of that.

I just sit there with him, letting our shared breath and muddy clothes be enough.

Behind us, Penny’s getting checked out, Jason cracking jokes to distract her, Julie directing the rest of the kids back toward the main cabin.

The moment passes.

But something under my skin shifts.

Not a crush. Not a spark.

Something deeper.

And I don’t know what to call it yet.

But I know it’s real.

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