Summer Escape with the Tycoon

She nodded. “Yeah. I’m sorry. You should go back to bed.”

“Not until I make sure you’re all right. The dream sounded rough.”

A mortified expression swept over her face. “Oh, God. Do you think anyone else heard?”

He shook his head. “I couldn’t sleep and came over to check on you. It was all quiet until just before I came in.” They were talking in low voices, barely over a whisper. “I wanted to wake you before it got too bad.”

Her exhalation was shaky. “It was bad enough. There’s something that’s been bothering me for so long. My thing with snorkeling and the flipping over—it all has to do with being underwater and not being able to breathe. All my life I stuck to swimming pools, to wading at the beach but not really swimming, doing the boat thing instead of snorkeling on family vacays and just telling myself it was a preference and I wasn’t really afraid. As much as I’ve tried to block it out or rationalize it away, it’s still there. It’s not a dream. It’s a memory.”

“What happened?”

“I got caught in a riptide at the beach and couldn’t get back to shore. A wave came and I went under, and I couldn’t shout, and I didn’t think anyone noticed. I had to fight so hard to get back to the surface again. I knew I was going to drown.”

“How old were you?”

“Five.”

Five years old and afraid of drowning. “It would explain a lot. Then what happened?”

“I was rescued. My brother rescued me, because he was already a strong swimmer and I hadn’t stayed close to the shore like I promised.” She shuddered all over. “I can still feel the water pulling me under, and coughing when I bobbed up again. Today...the whales were getting so close. And one went under and I tried to move to get farther away and then everything went...hinky and I ended up upside down. I couldn’t get turned around and all I could think of was what if the whale was beneath me and my head was right there...”

Her breath was coming fast again. “I know it sounds ridiculous—”

“But the fear is real,” he said, finishing for her. “Doesn’t matter if it’s rational or not. Fear is fear. I’m so sorry, Molly.”

“It’s not your fault. I’m just so glad you were there. You knew exactly what I needed to start breathing again.”

He rubbed his hand over hers. “Well, it’s not my first experience with panic attacks. My mom had them for a while after my dad left. I think dealing with everything as well as raising three boys took its toll.” He thought back to those days and felt a pang of regret. He hadn’t always been the easiest kid to raise. “When Mom had one, I learned not to hug because it was too confining and claustrophobic. But she liked a point of contact, so a hand on her arm or leg let her know someone was there. And for me to talk to her.”

“That’s rough on a kid.”

Not as rough as losing his father had been, but he simply shrugged. “She’s my mom. I love her. I could be a real handful, but I’m also the oldest. My brothers called me the Golden Boy.” He grinned a little. “They weren’t really wrong.”

“You looked after her.”

“I tried. My dad...he got into a lot of debt and then took off, leaving my mom to clean up his mess and with three boys to raise. I tried to step up and do whatever I could to help.”

He still did. His mom wouldn’t take a lot of his money, but at least she lived mortgage-free now, in a tidy little bungalow rather than the house where they’d grown up. His brothers made sure she had decent wheels through the dealership. Materially she was in good shape. But he missed her. Their relationship had become strained, too.

They sat for a few more minutes before Eric asked, “Are you feeling better now?”

“Yes, thanks.”

She said the words, but he wasn’t quite convinced. There was a hesitation to them that told him she wasn’t okay but wouldn’t ask for help. “Are you really? Or are you afraid of having the nightmare again?”

She laughed nervously. “Am I that transparent?”

“Yes.” And then he chuckled, and she laughed a little in return, the soft sound reaching in and waking something in him that had been dormant a long time.

He got up and as carefully as possible moved the empty bed in the tent over, so it was right up next to hers. He didn’t have his sleeping bag, but he didn’t care. He lay down on the mattress and shifted to his side, facing her. “Is this okay? I promise I’ll stay on my side. But you won’t have to be alone.”

“You don’t have any covers.”

“I’m in sweats and a hoodie. I’m fine.”

She rolled to her side. He’d turned off his light and the tent was pitch-black, so he could barely even make out her form in the darkness. It lent an intimacy to the moment that made his breath catch in his throat.

She reached out and touched his arm, then followed his arm down to his wrist and then hand, twining her fingers with his. “Thank you, Eric. For helping me today. For being here tonight.”