In Deep: Chase & Emma (All In Book 1) (23 page)

As part of the
agreement, all of us—the boat’s owner, the four of us boys, plus
the families involved—had agreed not to discuss it, any of it. But
things had a way of making their way to the surface. Rumors,
especially, about what had happened. Now I needed to tell Emma
everything.

“We decided to take
it out for a spin. We all knew our way around a boat.” Liam had
grown up on the island year-round, and Ian and I had spent every
summer there. “It was nothing we couldn’t handle. At least that’s
what we thought.” I shook my head, remembering how thoughtlessly
I’d climbed on board. Those steps now seemed so ominous.

“It was later than we
realized. The day was already overcast, and it seemed to get darker
quickly.” I could still remember the moment when my exhilaration
out on the water picked up an edge of fear. “It was a windy day
with rough water, but manageable. But then you could feel it, a shift
in the air. A storm was coming, working up fast and dangerous.

“The wind and rain
came on suddenly. We weren’t even that far from shore, but thank
God, Liam knew enough to call the Coast Guard. Ian didn’t want him
to, but he didn’t listen.”

I told Emma the rest of
what I remembered myself, how we’d started heading back to the
yacht club but we couldn’t get there fast enough. What started as a
squall turned into a violent thunderstorm in a matter of minutes. And
then it hit.

“It was like a white
wall coming at us,” I recalled, shuddering at the memory. I’d
never seen anything like it before, and I hoped I never would again.
“I guess it was wind and water and it hit the boat hard.”

“That’s so
terrifying.” Emma cupped her hands over her mouth, frightened at
the thought of it. And she was right. It was the scariest thing I’d
ever experienced. Later, we’d find out that winds picked up to
about 70 miles an hour, just below official hurricane-level. The boat
thrashed like a giant had tossed it and the front end of the boat
snapped clean off.

“It flipped on its
side, and I got thrown into the water. I didn’t even have on a life
jacket.” I paused for a moment, taking a breath, keeping it
together. That was what I dreamed about, that moment when the waves
grasped and pulled at me, so cold and I couldn’t tell in the dark
which way was up. I went under, sinking, clawing around me, blind in
the blackness, fighting to stay alive even as I gulped down water.
And then everything went dark.

“That’s all I
remember,” I admitted. “I woke up in the hospital four days
later.”

“Oh my God.” Emma’s
eyes were wide.

“I found out that
Liam jumped in after me. Stupid kid. He could have died.” The
heroic rescuer even at age 14, Liam had grabbed a life raft, tied it
with a long rope around his waist and thrown himself in after me. “By
some miracle, he managed to dive down deep enough to grab me, then
found the strength to haul me back up to the surface and swim us over
to a life raft. I stayed unconscious the whole time. I’d swallowed
too much water. But he managed to strap us both to the raft and keep
us alive until the Coast Guard arrived.”

“What about your
friends on the boat? Ian and Jax?” She hung on every word, and I
realized it did sound like I was telling her the plot to some
blockbuster movie. People paid good money to see stuff like that on
the big screen, with all the sound effects and props to make it feel
real. But take it from me, you didn’t want to experience anything
like it, not in real life.

“Ian got hurt bad.”
I didn’t know all the details, still this many years later. They
kept me in ICU for over a week after the accident. But Ian? He’d
spent months in there because of the burns.

“When the boat broke,
the fuel pump cracked. You never would have thought it could happen
with all that rain, on the water, but a fire started. Ian got
trapped, caught on something.” I shook my head, hating the thought
of it. He’d been such an active kid, the most athletic of us all.

“I’m so sorry.”
She shook her head.

“The Coast Guard got
there quick. We were lucky, all of us lived.” But I knew Ian still
had days when he might not agree he felt so lucky. At first, he’d
worked hard at rehab, but then something had changed. As far as I
knew, he hadn’t walked in years. He sequestered himself in one of
his family’s homes, taking pain meds, confined to a wheelchair. He
had more inherited money than most people would know what to do with.
But it hadn’t bought him happiness.

And now some blog had
published a story accusing me of being responsible for his injuries.

“I never should have
fallen off that boat. I was the strongest in the water of all of
them. I was the one who thought he was a hot shot, the competitive
swimmer of the group. But what did I do? I instantly went down,
risking Liam’s life, leaving Ian and Jax to fend for themselves.”

Emma wrapped her arms
around me. “Chase, it sounds like there was nothing you could do.
You were thrown off the boat and started sinking down to the bottom
of the ocean until Liam grabbed you.”

I nodded, knowing the
truth of her words. But guilt was a strange thing. It gnawed away at
you even when it didn’t necessarily make sense.

“I’ve played it
over and over in my head. I should have held on. I never should have
fallen off. Then maybe things would have been different. Maybe Liam
or I could have helped Ian when he needed it.”

“You talk like you
had a choice about it.” Emma tried to stop me from beating myself
up. “You got caught in a near hurricane. The boat snapped in half.”

“Still, I was the
swimmer. I should have been able to keep everyone safe.”

She just hugged me,
holding me tight, and that helped even more than words.

“I wish like hell I’d
never stepped foot on that boat.” It felt good to admit it. “Or
at least that I’d tried to talk them into returning it. Instead of
hopping right on board.”

“But you were 14.”
She kissed me, trying to soothe me. “You were a 14-year-old boy.”

I could feel the steady
beating of her heart, her chest against mine. I knew regret didn’t
do any good. It ate away at you, corroding your life. But if I could
change one thing, it would be the moment I walked on that boat.

“Somebody must have
talked to that blog,” I said, ruefully. “They must have been
sniffing around Naugatuck until they found someone willing to sling
around some mud.”

“Do you know which
blog it was?” Emma asked in a small voice.

“Something stupid
sounding. The Rio Rap Sheet, I think. Bloodsuckers. They need to get
a life. Isn’t there enough news here at the games without making up
shit?”

“I’m so sorry,”
she repeated, still looking shell-shocked.

“It’s not your
fault.” I reached over and took her hand. She looked ashen, truly
shaken by my story. “Hey,” I stroked her cheek and pulled her
closer. “I’m OK. It happened a long time ago. And this will blow
over. Our PR team is working on a response. I got pissed about the
story, but I can’t let it knock me off course. I won’t let it.”

“No, of course not.”
She leaned back against me, shaking her head. “I can’t believe
you ever got back into the water after that happened.”

“Getting on a boat
still isn’t my favorite thing,” I admitted. “But I had to swim.
I had to prove it to myself.”

“I think you’ve
proved it to the world by now.” She reached up and kissed me. I
entwined a hand in her hair, ran my other along her waist. She felt
so good. How could I stay upset with her melting in my arms?

“So you think I’ve
proved myself?” I couldn’t help asking, gold medalist that I was,
as I tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave her another
kiss.

“Yeah. Except for
that silver medal you won,” she teased me, shaking her head in
pretend disappointment. “That’s just embarrassing.”

I burst out laughing.
She knew exactly how to lighten my mood.

“I mean, show some
respect, man.” She started laughing, too, and I wrestled her down
to the bed, tickling her until she screamed for me to stop. We lay,
panting, her cheek on my chest.

“I’m sorry,” she
apologized. “That was ridiculous of me to say. I just, I don’t
know what to say. That’s such an awful thing you went though.”

“It felt good to tell
you the whole story.” I hadn’t realized how much it had been
oppressing me, lying heavy on my chest, a barrier between me and
everyone I’d met since the accident. None of them knew what had
happened, and because of that they couldn’t really know me. Now
Emma did.

“And I’ll meet Liam
tomorrow?” she asked.

“Tomorrow,” I
agreed. “When I swim the 200 fly.” My favorite event. Most humans
tired after the first 100 meters of butterfly. Not me. That’s when
I really got going. Plus, I’d have both Emma and Liam there to
cheer me on.

We lay together, lazy
in bed, hands and mouths drifting, exploring. Clothes came off and we
gloried in each other, stroking, coaxing, loving for hours. I broke
away to eat—I had to do that—but then I returned to her arms, her
legs, her body, Emma.

It felt like a dark
cloud over me had lifted. I couldn’t make things right with Ian,
but somehow the years of secrecy around the accident had compounded
to make it all worse in my head. After telling Emma, I felt lighter
than I had in years. She was like a gift, arriving at just the right
moment in my life.

And I had all kinds of
plans for keeping her there in the future. After the games, I wanted
to travel together. Wherever she wanted to go, I’d say yes. And
then, hell, maybe I could head down to Florida for a while? It was a
swim-crazy kind of a state. There had to be some team somewhere that
would be excited about having a former Olympian as a coach. With
Emma, I had a feeling everything would work out perfectly.

§

Tuesday, before I swam,
Liam arrived and found me in our team room.

“There he is!” We
bear-hugged like brothers. He looked good, healthy, the handsome
devil all the girls flocked to without him even trying.

“Now, who are you
about to go smack down?” He put down his duffel bag, instantly all
business, wanting to hear about my next event. I filled him in about
my two closest competitors, one my teammate, Chris, and the other a
powerhouse from South Africa. Plus, there was a wildcard from China
in the seventh lane. The guy was an erratic swimmer, but when he was
on he was on.

“You’re going to do
this, Chevy. I know it.” I nodded. I could feel it, too. “And
then you’re going to introduce me to your girlfriend.”

I broke out in a smile.
He and I both knew how much he enjoyed using that term associated
with my name. He loved to ride me about how my “all work no play”
ethic wasn’t good for me. “At least get yourself a girlfriend,
man,” he’d frequently chastised, as if he found my lack of action
personally insulting. But he was one to talk. Though he had more than
his share of opportunities, he hadn’t gone all-in over anyone yet,
either. It almost seemed as if he were holding himself back over
something, or someone.

“Go make me proud!”
Liam and I fist bumped, and he walked out of the room leading me and
my teammates in a “USA! USA!” chant. He was going up to sit with
my parents, brave soul. They’d known him and his family for almost
two decades, and by now they’d at least stopped fighting the fact
that we were friends. But they were resigned about it, as if
thinking, “after all those private schools we sent you to, this is
the best you can do for a friend? A fireman?”

I knew they’d never
say exactly that to my face, but they were pretty transparent. They’d
both worked hard to climb their way up the social ladder in the
Boston area. Money, of course, opened most doors, and then my mother
battered down the rest of them through her incessant involvement in
charitable works—at least the party-giving end of them. My elite
training and education, culminating at Stanford, was their crowning
achievement. Now if only I would fall in line after this whole
swimming thing, join the hedge fund and the country club, marry a
Wellesley grad and start sending out Christmas cards with us and our
two kids on ski slopes in Aspen, all would be well!

I’d introduced them
to Emma a couple of days ago and they’d been polite, but
disinterested. They probably hadn’t picked up on my cues: This
Woman Is Important. We weren’t going in for PDA with cameras
around. Neither of us wanted press to pick up the scent. She didn’t
want all those close-ups on her while I swam, and I didn’t want her
caught up in the shark-like feeding frenzy I knew was circling right
below us in the water. If news broke that I had a girlfriend, and she
was my physical therapist, and by the way she was live on camera
watching me swim? There’d be no end of it the whole rest of the
week.

I wondered what Emma’s
parents would be like. They arrived tomorrow. I had a feeling I’d
like them. At first they’d refused my offer to fly them out,
telling me it was too much. I’d had to explain that the tickets to
watch the games were comped to me, the team already had a large block
of hotel rooms reserved for family and friends, and I had enough
miles to cover the airplane ticket. But what had finally won them
over was their daughter.

“It would make Emma
really happy to watch the games, in person, with you both.”

That had done it.
They’d agreed, and would arrive tomorrow night.

The 200 fly flew. My
experience of swimming an event was an odd blend of time both slowed
down and rapidly sped up. In the minutes before my dive, my
consciousness contracted into a laser point down my lane. No crowds,
no noise, no waving fans or worried looks toward the scoreboard. I
didn’t notice the men in the lanes around me, or my coaches
standing over to the side. It was me and the water, that stretch of
blue ahead. And I would beat it.