“They didn’t make it,” he says, after another moment passes.
I stop kicking, and the ocean seems to still as I take that in. My father’s gone. Beckett is gone.
“How do you know?” I ask. Maybe Enzo’s wrong. There is a lot of wreckage from those explosions. We can barely see five feet in front of us between the smoke, high waves, and pieces of wreckage we are swimming through.
“Because I saw it happen, both times.”
“How?”
“Your father jumped on one of the explosions, dimming its strength. And Beckett,” his voice breaks. “He jumped on the last one. They saved us. Without their sacrifices, we wouldn’t be here. Or at least, I wouldn’t.”
I break. I’m used to the feeling, but this time it’s different. Before I lost people I was sure I loved. People who knew I loved them. This time I lost two people who I didn’t know for sure where their loyalties lied.
“My father loved me,” I say, my heart thudding softly in my chest. I wasn’t sure before now. But I know it’s true. My uncle was my father in every way that mattered. He fucked up a lot, but in the end, he made it right. He protected me.
“There isn’t any other word to describe what your father did except love. He gave up everything to keep you safe.”
I close my eyes as the tears burn. Enzo continues to swim, pulling me closer to the ship. Later I will fully mourn my father’s death. It will fully hit me, but right now, it doesn’t.
“Why did Beckett save us?” I ask, confused. Sure, I thought he was on our side, but not enough to sacrifice himself to save us. Enzo must have gotten that part wrong.
“Because you were right. He’s a good guy.” Enzo pauses, then corrects himself as he stops swimming. “He was a good guy. And he saw that our love was worth dying for.”
Enzo’s pain is palpable. I can feel it from here, even though I’m not touching him.
“It’s not your fault that Beckett’s dead. It’s not your fault that you never knew he existed. That you never had a chance to grow up as brothers,” I say, but I know the words don’t mean much to him.
He doesn’t say anything as he continues to swim. The smoke has somehow gotten thicker as we swim further out. Enzo dodges pieces of ships and wooden chunks from the pier as we swim.
But a soft groan perks my ears up. “Did you hear that?”
“No.”
But the man moans again, making the sound undeniable.
“We have to help him,” I say as I hear the sound a third time to my left.
“Kai, we can’t. We need to get to the yacht. We can’t have stowaways on the ship. It’s not safe.”
“Just stop, please,” I say, something drawing me to the sound of the man groaning.
Enzo stops, and we start moving left toward the sound of a man dying. Please let us be able to save him. Whoever he is, I need something positive right now after learning of too much death.
The smoke lifts just enough to make out the man, he’s draped over a piece of wood floating in the water. He looks burned and covered in brown splotches of soot. His arm looks battered; I can see the muscles, veins, and arteries. But his eyes open, and my mouth drops. “Beckett?”
Enzo freezes for a just a second, and then he swims hard and fast toward the man clinging to life a few feet away. I want to go to him, but decide it’s better to hold onto the buoy than let go and swim to him.
“It’s Beckett!” Enzo shouts back.
Enzo grabs the piece of wood serving as a life raft and swims furiously back to me.
“We need to get him to the yacht, fast. He’s barely hanging on,” Enzo says.
If it wasn’t for the constant moans, I would think Beckett is already dead.
“I’m going to put him on the buoy with you and then swim as hard as I can to the yacht,” Enzo says.
I nod.