Page 115 of Tate
He should head back to shore before he did something crazy like grab her and beg her not to do this.
“Actually…I need practice in the buddy tow.” She looked away as she said it as if there might be other potential drowning victims.
The buddy tow. Yeah, that was a washout evolution in BUD/S during which people could be DORed, or rolled back to start training again, if they didn’t execute it correctly.
Right.
“Okay, listen. Remember—when you’re in the middle of the ocean and someone is panicking, you’re their only life support. So they’re going to attack you.” He met her eyes for a moment, meaning in them. “You gotta be able to break free. It’s called the Head Escape Method.” He approached her and grabbed her hands, kicking her out deeper. “Now, push me underwater.”
She frowned.
“If you don’t do it, I will.”
She grabbed his shoulders, pushing him under the surface. He slipped out from under her clinch, grabbed her hips, and turned her. Then he grabbed the back of her swimsuit, pulling her up to the surface to tow her.
When he let her go, she was breathing hard, but smiling. “I wanna try that.”
“Okay, just once. When I grab you, I want you to tuck your head, put your hands under my elbows and push me up and away. Then grab my hips and turn me around. Don’t be afraid to put some oomph into it. You’re there to save me, not be polite.”
He sank in the water and she dove for him. He grabbed her shoulders, but she ducked her head, shoved her hands into his elbows, dislodged his hold, and turned him around, pulling him against her as she kicked to the surface.
Oh, she was a fast learner.
And sure, he’d probably been easy on her, but a taste of triumph wouldn’t hurt her.
“Good job,” he said as she let him go.
“Let’s go again.”
“No. Right now, I just want you to practice the cross-chest carry. The trick here is to keep my head above water. As the victim, I must be able to continue a normal breathing cycle. Remember, whatever you do, don’t let me get a grip on you to pull you under.”
He lay on his back, and she swam up next to him, her body against his, and tucked her arm over his shoulder, grabbing under his arm.
He was Andre the Giant in her arm as she began to swim, pulling him along. How he wanted to help her, to keep his hips up, to add a kick to her efforts. “Try and keep me planed in the water. It’ll be a lot less work.”
She swam parallel to the shore, the waves splashing over his face as she skip-breathed, taking every other breath.
“Try a scissor kick.”
“Try and pretend you’re dead.”
“If I’m dead, it’s not a rescue.”
He hoped she was smiling. But she was getting it, his face not bobbing as much into the water, her arm fixed across his body. She towed him a hundred yards down the shoreline, maybe more before she let him go.
He sculled the water, watching her catch her breath. But she was grinning at him. “Thanks, Marsh.”
Teammates. Right. Maybe he should remind his heart, not to mention the rest of his body, because everything inside him wanted to offer to buddy towher, maybe right back into his arms.I’m not that guy, Red.
He still wasn’t. “When’s your test?”
“A week from this Saturday, in the morning.”
He nodded. “You got this. They’ll hone your technique when you get into training.” He tried not to let the words tighten a noose around his chest. “I gotta get back to…uh…”
She splashed him. “Right. Thanks for your help.”
He wanted to ask her what she might be doing for dinner, or even how her mother was, but that would bring up everything they’d left behind in Montana. Where it should stay.
