“Because you just can’t, okay? I’m sorry. I really am.” She looks up the stairs, and there’s something in her face I never saw before. Daddy’s up there in his room, I think. “I can’t do this anymore.”
“Do what?” Denver asks, but I think I know. She can’t be our mommy anymore. She’s not going to come back.
Once she walks outside and shuts the door, all that’s left is the smell of her perfume.
Her words cut deep, deeper than I like to admit, and for a moment, I forget her pain and anger while mine is rushing to the surface. She must see the rage in my eyes because she pulls her arms from my neck as if my touch suddenly burns her.
“Put me down,” she murmurs, her voice lower and more timid now.
“Fine!” I tell her, before throwing her into the pool. She yelps in surprise. Her hand reaches for me, trying to grab me, but I turn around before I even hear the splash of the water.
I stomp away, not wanting to be close when her head breaks the surface, and she undoubtedly starts screaming at me again. Walking across the large deck, I anticipate her voice reaching me any second now, but all I hear is splashing around. By the time I reach the back door, the yard has gone eerily quiet.
My anger simmers down and is replaced by confusion, which quickly turns into worry. I spin around and look at the pool. From where I stand, I don’t see anything. She must be fucking with me.
“It’s not funny, Gemma. Stop playing around!” Dread pools in my stomach when she still doesn’t answer. Dread turns into bone-crushing fear when I see her head briefly come up, pure terror written all over her face. Her arms are flailing out, splashing the water around her before she goes under again.
Fuck!
I’ve never moved so fast in my life, yet still, it doesn’t seem fast enough. I’m across the deck and in the pool in two seconds. As soon as I’m underwater, I open my eyes. She is frantically trying to swim but can’t keep herself afloat. Her hair is floating around the water like silk covering her face. I reach for her and get a hold of her wrist, pulling her close to me. She is panicking and struggles against my hold at first.
I push her to the surface, and she sucks in a shaky breath. I try to keep her above the water, but it’s difficult with all four of her limbs thrashing around in panic. A moment later, she realizes that I’m here, and she grabs onto me.
Her arms and legs wrap around my body tightly, her face buried in the crook of my neck where her panicked sobs fill my ear. I keep kicking my legs and move my arms to keep us above the water.
“What she fuck?” Denver’s voice booms across the backyard as he comes running toward us.
I paddle us to the edge just when he gets there too. Grabbing onto the ladder with one hand, I wrap my free arm around Gemma. She is clinging onto me so tightly I find it hard to breathe. Her whole body is stiff, and she is silent besides the small sobs that rack her body.
“What happened?” Denver asks, reaching for Gemma’s shoulder. “Gemma?” His voice is gentle, but she doesn’t respond.
Denver’s eyes find mine, questioning me with his gaze, and the pit in my stomach only gets deeper and deeper. I don’t know what to tell him. I fucked up, just like I always do.
“I-I c-can’t swim,” Gemma stutters. Her words are barely audible against my skin.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” I whisper against her wet hair, trying to calm her down. I am sorry, more than sorry. Fuck, she almost drowned, and that would have been my fault. The thought weighs heavy on my chest, and I already know this is something I will never forget, never forgive myself for.
“Come, let’s get you out and dry,” Denver coos, rubbing her shoulders. I’ve never heard him talk to anyone besides me like this—calm and caring. I always thought that was a side of him only reserved for me. He’s never cared about anyone else like this.
She lifts her head slightly and looks around us. As soon as she realizes where she is, she releases me and reaches for the ladder.
There is a distinct ache in my chest as I watch Denver grab her and pull her out of the pool. It’s not the fact that Denver is touching her, it’s knowing that I lost her before I ever had her.
She pushes Denver away the moment she is on her feet and tries to get away.
“Wait, don’t run off,” Denver pleads, but Gemma just shakes her head and wraps her arms around herself.
“I’m fine,” she utters, sounding anything but fine as she rushes into the house.
I’m ready to go after her, not wanting her to be alone, but Denver steps in front of me.
“Give her a minute. Tell me what the fuck happened during the two seconds I was gone,” my brother orders, his tone angry and menacing.
“I didn’t know she couldn’t swim. She lived at the fucking beach. How could she not know how to swim?”
Denver’s eyes grow darker, and his nostrils flare. “That doesn’t explain what happened.”
“I threw her in, okay? I was angry, and I threw her into the pool. I didn’t know!” I turn my head away from Denver, unable to hold his accusing gaze any longer. “I know I fucked up.”