Page 3 of Five Goodbyes

“I’m going to get you help, Jazzy. Stay with me. I’m going to get us there, but you’ve got to keep fighting,” I beg as I get into a rhythm with my swim stroke.

I’m in great shape, but this swim is kicking the crap out of me. I go into my own head, not thinking of the pain coursing through my body, but of how I can swim faster without burning out and needing to stop. My muscles strain with every stroke, and the weight of my exhaustion is going to wear me out if I’m not careful. I don’t care about any of that though, there’s no other option but to get Jazzy to that shoreline.

Reach, pull. Reach, pull. Reach, pull. It’s the same cadence over and over again. I keep looking up to ensure I haven’t gone off course, and I’m surprised at the progress, but I don’t let it slow me down. My arm and shoulder burn, my breathing is labored, and I feel empty. It still doesn’t slow me down. I’ve got to get to that land.

I’m only feet from the shoreline when I’m surprised by a movement under my forearm. It starts slowly but within seconds Jasmine is ready to lose her crap since she has no idea of what is happening.

“Jazzy, I’ve got you. Relax. I’ve got you. Please, listen. I’ve got you. You’re okay,” I say against her struggles.

Finally, we reach the shore, and I crawl up the sand and grass, gasping hard for breath. This beautiful woman has scared the hell out of me, but I’ll take that fear as long as she’s alive. She now lays beside me, coughing hard, but very much alive.

“What in the hell happened?” Jasmine gasps, her voice gritty, before she has another coughing fit.

I’m breathing far too hard to try and explain everything. Throwing a single finger up toward her, all I can reply with is, “wait.”

“How did we get here? Why are we in the water, Hunter?” Jasmine asks.

I look at her bewildered. Does she really have no recollection of what just went down?

“What’s the last thing you remember?” I get out as my breath comes back.

“We were driving after someone. I . . . I’m not really sure,” Jasmine says as she rolls off her stomach and groans while sitting up.

I can’t believe she doesn’t remember the accident. That will make for an interesting report to the Bureau. Not that I care about work right now. The heart in my chest is slowing down where I can finally think of something other than surviving.

“We were traveling far too fast, got into an accident, and our vehicle flew over the side of the Seven Mile Bridge,” I begin.

Jasmine’s beautiful eyes go wide as she snaps her head to the bridge. “Where?” she asks.

My nod to look further down the bridge allows her to see where people are still standing, black smoke bellowing high into the air, which tells us that an automobile of some kind is currently burning.

“How . . . But what . . . Did you . . .” Jasmine stutters in trying to find the question she wants to ask.

“We spun, got hit from behind, and then flew into the air. When we hit the water, you cracked your head against the window and got knocked out. It took some time, but I was able to get you out of the car and then swim us here. You scared the hell out of me, woman,” I tell her.

“Well, why didn’t you drive better?” Jasmine asks. The tone of her voice instantly changes, making it easy to hear the smile she’s now wearing.

“Did you just make a joke about my driving after learning I quite literally saved your life?” I ask.

Jasmine smirks before reaching out and patting the top of my hand. “It’s okay, Hunter. Not everyone can drive well. How about from now on I take the wheel?”

I can’t help but smile wide. This woman was in serious trouble only minutes ago and is now making fun of me. I only have a couple of options, the best one being to go along with it.

“The only way you’re taking the wheel is if I’m not in the car. If you were in this situation, we would’ve never been close to capturing the perp. I know people who are completely blind that drive faster than you.”

“You did not just say that!” Jasmine cuts back, throwing a few blades of grass at me.Bottom of Form.

“I most definitely did, because it’s certainly true. You’re slower than a slug going in reverse.” I reply. I think the stress of the situation and our normal fearlessness makes it far easier for us to joke than to freak out at coming so close to death. The two of us begin to laugh until Jasmine clutches her chest and winces in pain.

“I don’t know what in the hell happened in that wreck, but my chest is killing me,” she tells me.

I’m not afraid to own my responsibilities. “That’s probably from when I was punching your chest as hard as I could.”

“What? Why?” she asks.

“I thought you were dead or had water in your lungs. You know, I can always kiss it and make it feel better,” I say with as seductive of a smile as I can muster in the current circumstance.

“Let me get this straight. You’re hurting me so you can make it feel better? What kind of psycho are you?”

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