Page 83 of Glass Rose
“I’m not asking permission.” I wrench my arm free. “I’m telling you what’s happening.”
“You’ll die out there.”
“John definitely dies if we stay here.” He’s slumped against the window. “And probably us too, eventually.”
His hands curl into fists at his sides. “I can’t protect you if we’re separated.”
“I don’t need your protection.” I kind of do, but… I step closer, close enough to feel the heat radiating from his body. “I need your trust. I need you to believe I can do this. Like you normally do. Remember our little fight?”
His eyes search mine, looking for weakness, for doubt. He won’t find any. Not on the surface, anyway.
“You’re a terrible liar,” he finally says. “You were never on any swim team.”
I blink. “How did you?—”
“Your heart rate spikes with a slight hitch when you lie.” His hand reaches up, thumb brushing across my throat where my pulse betrays me. “Just like now.”
“Fine. I can swim enough not to drown.” I don’t back down. “The point stands. This is our best option.”
He’s silent for what feels like forever. “If you die?—”
“You’ll what? Miss me?” I attempt a smile. “Avenge me? Move on?”
“Don’t.”
“Then stop acting like I’m already dead.” I grab the front of his shirt, hauling him down to me. “I’m coming back.” I hope.
I seal my lips to his, hard and desperate, pouring everything I can’t say into the contact. His hands find my waist, fingers digging in like he’s afraid I’ll disappear if he loosens his grip.
“I’ll get you out.” His lips linger on mine.
I open my eyes, meeting his. He’s scared. For me. We both know this plan is batshit crazy, but it’s all we’ve got. And I’m going to make damn sure it works.
“I’m serious, Sofia. I?—”
“I know.”I cover his heart with my hand, feeling the thunderous beat. “That’s what scares me.”
John clears his throat. “If you two lovebirds are done, we’ve got a horde of dead assholes waiting to eat us.”
Gavin releases me, his eyes still locked on mine. “Ready?”
I nod. I’m anything but.
We move back toward John, who’s looking considerably worse than he did two minutes ago, the bandage on his shoulder already soaked through with fresh blood.
We have to get him out.
“So,” John says, “we make noise at the front, draw these fuckers away from the back door. You slip out, get to the SUV.”
“Sounds good,” I say. “Once they’re after me, you two make a break for the boat.”
“And when we’re off the hook, not any second later and no unnecessary risks,” Gavin grabs my backpack, “you ditch the SUV and jump. Water entry feet first, legs together. Don’t try any fancy dives.”
“I’ll be fine. It’s just water,” I say.
“It’s just thirty feet of falling before you hit water,” John corrects. “And if you land wrong?—”
“I won’t.” I can’t handle another lecture on all the ways I might die. “I’ve jumped off cliffs higher than that. You know, in my wild college days.” My college days involved lab coats and petri dishes, not cliff jumping, but what’s the difference?
