Page 40 of The Bro Pact
Once I’m steady again, I keep going.
Just a couple . . . more . . . branches.
Standing up very, very carefully, I grab hold of the branch above my head and sidestep my way toward the end.
I have to jump far enough out so that I clear all of the branches below.
“Jump! Jump! Jump!” our campmates chant.
I’m not too worried, I learned how to swim last summer, so I got this.
“Ren, please don’t!”
Kyle’s words bleed with the present, but I don’t listen, just like I didn’t listen to him back then.
Instead, I jump, doing a front flip in the air and hitting the water at an awkward angle.
Hard.
The force of the impact knocks the wind out of me, stealing my breath and momentarily propelling me back into the memory of my eight-year-old self.
It’s jarring.
I didn’t clear all of the branches, hitting a few on my way down and breaking my arm in two places.
It’s not a memory I ever wish to relive, but this feels like déjà vu as I sink into the darkness.
Moments before my lungs suck in breaths of water, strong arms wrap around my torso, pushing off the bottom of the swimming hole and catapulting us to the surface.
We break through, gasping for air and coughing harshly.
“Kyle,” I whimper.
Once again, he’s there.
Like he always is.
Saving my ass.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
KYLE
Ren continues to cough violently as I lay him on the rocky shore, gathering my things while people just fucking stare and whisper.
Whatever. Don’t need their help anyway. Useless assholes.
“You okay?” I whisper, grasping his forearm and gently pulling him to his feet.
“Yeah,” he rasps, clearing his scratchy throat.
He needs water. I’m sure his throat is raw from all that coughing.
I open my bag and hand him a bottle.
He chugs half of it before speaking again, keeping his voice low. “Can we go somewhere private? I can’t hike back to the RV right now.”
“Of course.”
