Wrecked (19 page)

“No comparison,” Christian said, a slight smile on his face. “Except I know what it’s like to not feel accepted by your home. And I’m sorry about the accident,” he said, his gaze landing on Miranda’s scar.

“Thanks,” Miranda said. “I mean, it’s not like you caused it.” She looked down at her leg. The scar still felt raised and angry. And even though she was anticipating it, she couldn’t help but gasp when his hand brushed lightly against the raised skin.

“The scar’s from an accident, Miranda said in a rush of words. “And even though it’s ugly, I kind of like it. It shows how much everything hurts.” It was odd how easy it was to speak to him. “Do you want to go back in the water? Swim?” she asked.

Christian nodded, offering her his hand to help her stand up. Immediately, she dropped it and trailed behind him into the water. Christian dunked below the surface, then pulled her close to him. Miranda’s teeth were chattering, but she wasn’t cold. The water lapped gently against her stomach, the sun warmed her from above, and the water surrounding them had a reassuring glow, almost as if they were inside a nightlight. She wanted to stand here, in the water, forever.

She knew it was probably crazy. But for some reason, he made her feel safe. And maybe that made
her
crazy. But for the first time in the past few weeks, she was okay with that, if it meant that she wasn’t alone.

H
E
’
D TRIED.
O
R, HE’D TRIED TO TRY
. B
UT HE’D KNOWN AS SOON
as he’d tentatively gone underneath the surface, stirring up a tiny tempest, just enough to cause a riptide that would pull Miranda under, that he couldn’t have done it. Even when she’d seen him in the water, she’d known that she hadn’t been in real danger. She’d assumed that she’d just lost her footing.

He’d known all along that he’d never have done it. So now, the question was, what could he possibly do next? He couldn’t admit defeat to Sephie. At this point, he couldn’t even admit defeat to Valentine.

“Christian!” Miranda yelled from a few strokes away. Christian glanced toward her, feeling happy and giddy and confused and overwhelmed, all at once. He lightly pushed himself
off the sand bottom of the ocean and swam toward her. Once he got close, he realized that her teeth were chattering and her skin was pale.

“You’re freezing,” he said, treading water in front of her.

She nodded, clamping her teeth together to stop the chattering. “I know, but I don’t want to stop this. It’s nice.”

Christian nodded. He didn’t want to stop either, even though they’d been in the water for hours.

“Come on,” Christian said. The sun had completely set, and the sand was bathed in yellowish moonlight. “We can always come back.”

Miranda nodded, disappointment evident in her eyes. Christian realized that Miranda must have thought he meant they had to leave. “We can stay all night, if we want,” he offered.

“That’s crazy,” Miranda said, smiling. She treaded water harder, churning up the water beneath them. “You’d just hang out all night on the beach with a stranger?”

“Better than the alternative. Besides, I can only really sleep well outside,” Christian shrugged.

“Okay,” Miranda turned and swam toward shore. She was surprisingly fast and agile for a human, a reminder that she and he really weren’t that different.

Once they got on shore, Miranda sat on a piece of drift-wood, hugging her knees to her chest. Christian sat next to her. He wanted so badly to put his arms around her, but was worried
Miranda would take that as being too forward. He didn’t want to frighten her.

“What are you thinking?” Christian asked after a beat.

“It’s really big out there,” Miranda said with a half laugh. “You kind of forget that when you live on an island. You think the only thing that matters is this tiny place you live.”

“Right,” Christian murmured. It was kind of the same Down Below. But Up Above was a whole new world, one where Sephie didn’t rule.

Maybe there was hope for both of them.

He allowed his arm to drape over her shoulders. Instead of pulling away, she snuggled into him and the two of them gazed out. Christian knew it wasn’t ideal—that this was temporary, that he needed to come up with a way to outwit Sephie’s plan, that he couldn’t take away any of Miranda’s suffering—but for right now, it was enough. They stayed until Miranda snuggled down so her head was resting on his shoulder, and until her breathing slowed into rhythmic ins and outs that reminded Christian of endless waves crashing against the shore.

S
HE WAS BACK OUT IN THE OCEAN, STILL STUCK IN A TRAP, STILL
feeling helpless. This time was different, though. She could feel the waves crashing down all around her, but she also knew that it was a dream; knew that she wasn’t really going to die. But even though she knew, her dream self still did what it always did—kicked and stroked, desperately trying to get her head above water.

And then, a figure appeared from the water, the same shadowy presence as always. Except this time, Miranda struggled to keep her eyes open. She had to see who it was. She allowed her body to go slack in the water, allowed her eyes to open, and she realized . . . it was him.

Miranda’s eyes flew open, her heart racing, then slowing down slightly when she realized that Christian was next to her. So it
wasn’t a dream. And if it hadn’t been a dream, did that mean . . . she touched his shoulder. He was definitely real. His skin, his large blue eyes, his dark hair . . . it
had
been him.

“Hi,” Miranda croaked, then coughed. It was as if her voice had gotten caught in her throat. Her thoughts flashed back to last night, when she suddenly couldn’t breathe. Her gaze landed on her bare leg. In the hazy morning sunlight, her scar looked redder and more raised than ever before; the mottled flesh twisted and ugly and totally different than the boy’s smooth, almost sparkly, skin.

Christian’s eyes opened and he glanced around in confusion before a slow, sleepy smile spread across his face. “Miranda,” he said.

“You saved me,” she said steadily. “You were there.” But why had he been in the ocean that night? There hadn’t been another boat in sight; the last thing Miranda remembered doing before the boat hit the channel marker was checking the console. And they’d been a good three or four miles from shore, too far away for a recreational swimmer to find them.

A flicker of guilt crossed Christian’s face, replaced by determination. “I did,” he said gruffly.

“Why? Why me?” She asked, her voice choked thick with emotion. Why hadn’t it been Genevieve or Darcy or Lydia or
anyone
else?

“Because I had to,” Christian said simply. “What else would I have done?”

“You could have left. I’d be too worried about saving myself. If I saw a boat on fire, I don’t think I’d save anyone,” Miranda admitted.

“I bet you would,” Christian said. “You hadn’t wanted to leave the boat when it was on fire. You wanted to stay so your friends were safe.”

Miranda stiffened. He’d seen that. She’d blocked those last moments out of her mind. Now she began to remember: Fletch’s strong hands around her waist, the sudden icy water, frantically treading water and feeling the heat from the boat. It had been awful. Tears began to prick the back of her eyes.

“Stop it!” she said roughly. She wasn’t sure if she was speaking to Christian or herself.

“I apologize,” Christian said formally, crouching down next to her.

“No,” Miranda said, angrily rubbing her eyes, trying to stave off tears. She was annoyed at herself for crying and annoyed at this guy, whoever he was, for keeping his role in her rescue a secret. So he saw that she tried to stay with the boat? Why couldn’t he tell anyone that?

“What were you doing out there, anyway?” Miranda asked. “There weren’t any boats out there.” The tide was quickly turning, and soon, their dry sandy bed would be licked by the water, like frosting on a cupcake.

“I was swimming.” Christian shrugged.

“Well, you could have told someone. You could have talked
to the police and told them what you saw. And you could have let me know. I thought I was crazy, kept having all these visions of you. I didn’t know if you were real or what had happened. I had so many nightmares,” she said, tears finally falling.

“Shhh . . . ,” Christian said, reaching to pull her body toward his. Miranda began to push him away, but he continued to make the shushing sound, and finally, she relaxed into his shoulder.

Finally, Miranda pulled back, her eyes searching his face, then started laughing. The sound was unfamiliar to her.

“What?” Christian asked, a half-smile on his face.

“You’re real. I really thought I dreamed you,” Miranda shrugged.

“I’m real,” Christian said. “And I promise you, it was not your fault, and if I could have saved more people, I would have. As it was . . .”

Miranda released a shuddery sigh. “I need to go. I need to think . . . It’s just a lot,” Miranda said uncertainly. She felt like she was standing on the edge of a cliff, her entire body leaning toward a chasm. She wanted so badly to trust him, but something was holding her back. “Actually . . . that night. What happened?” Miranda asked. She needed to hear it.

Christian sighed and allowed his hand to brush hers. Miranda reflexively pulled back, then allowed his hand to remain on hers.

“I saw the fire,” Christian said slowly, as if he were telling a story. “And there were bodies falling off the boat. Being thrown
off the boat. I wasn’t sure what to do, and then I saw you, stuck, and I suddenly knew. I had to save you. So I pulled you toward shore. You kept screaming a word . . .”

“Fletch,” Miranda said dully, her heart twisting. She’d remembered her terror, the way she’d kept calling Fletch’s name, knowing even then he was gone. “He was my boyfriend.”

“Did he . . .”

“Die?” Miranda asked sharply. “Yes. No. I don’t know. He’s in a coma. But they say he won’t come out of it, so . . . yes, he’s dead,” she said. “My boyfriend is dead.” She yanked her hand away from Christian’s hand. What was she
doing?

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Christian said slowly.

“Thanks,” Miranda said. A silence fell between them.

“Do you wish that I hadn’t saved you?” Christian asked, staring straight ahead.

Miranda looked over at Christian, aghast. “What? No!” She felt self-conscious, like he’d read her mind and seen her deepest, darkest secret. “No. I’m glad I’m alive. I mean, I’m glad you saved me. Thank you,” she said, choking up. “I mean, if I’d died, it wouldn’t have saved Fletch. It’s just . . .”

“What?” Christian asked.

“I miss them. So much. So, so much,” Miranda said dully. “And I just don’t understand. How did you save me? Fletch threw me overboard and then . . . ?”

“Shhh,” Christian said, continuing to rub her back. “Shhh.” But this time, the sound wasn’t as comforting as it had been
before. “Your foot got stuck in a cable. I just let you free and brought you over to dry land. Anyone would have done it. And then, when I got back to the boat . . . everyone was gone.”

“What do you mean?” Miranda asked in a tiny voice. She needed to know what, exactly, had happened. “What did it look like?”