“Yeah.” He lowers his head with a smirk, his body inches away which only intensifies Logan’s growl behind me. “C’mon Em, you want two cocks inside you? You’re a slut just like the rest of them.”
The rage consumes me, my arm ready to swing until Logan holds me back. I wriggle out of his grip—why the fuck did he just stand there and do nothing?!
“Control your woman, Carrington. Or I’ll have to tell her how you tried to pay me to walk away.”
What did he just say???
There’s a high-pitched scream for help that sounds in the distance. I push Wesley aside and run towards the sound. A large group on the beach surrounds a body on the ground. I run through the sand with difficulty, my feet sinking in making my pace slow. A man yells for someone to call 911.
The panic urges me to run faster until I’m amongst the crowd pushing everyone away. When it’s all clear, I see the two bodies lying on the sand, unconscious.
It’s Tayla and another girl.
I fall to my knees and scream louder for help, placing my mouth onto hers in a state of panic with no clue what I’m doing. I begin to sob, helpless as everyone watches on.
Logan and Wesley push everyone out of the way including me, and begin resuscitating the both of them. In Wesley’s drunken state, he manages to resuscitate the other girl until she’s coughed up water and opened her eyes, dazed and confused.
Beside her, Logan is on his knees, panicked. I pray through loud sobs for her to wake up, call her name and beg her to hang on. My legs begin to shake, desperate to give way yet I somehow muster up the strength to remain alert because losing my sister was not an option.
And then, as if the Lord above listened to my loud prayers, her eyes spring open and her body jerks forward as she purges all the water from her lungs.
The crowd lets out a huge gasp of relief; Logan falling back into a crumpled heap, tired and worn-out by his efforts to save her.
I should thank him for saving her.
But instead, I embrace my sister and ignore him beside me, wishing nothing had ever happened between us.
“Tick. Tick. Boom.”
~ Logan Carrington
I fall to the ground, desperately trying to revive Tayla.
My brain scrambles to remember CPR training; clouded by my fear of losing her because I’ve gone completely blank. One look at Wesley reviving the unknown girl jogs my memory. I open her airway and give her two rescue breaths, then compress her chest, ignoring the cries surrounding me.
Thirty fucking times. Do this thirty fucking times, don’t panic.
The other girl gains consciousness, distracting me for a moment, until my focus is back on Tayla. Her pale face and grey lips haunt me as I lay my own lips onto hers and give her another two rescue breaths. Warm air rushes against my lips; a sign she is breathing and within seconds, her eyes open wide with her body follows in shock.
The relief washes over me. The adrenalin running through me spiked by fear and the unknown. Emerson is leaning over Tayla, talking softly through tears, making sure she acknowledges her and isn’t suffering from any permanent damage.
The paramedics arrive and check both girls over. Tayla explains that the other girl was mucking around in the water and underestimated the current. When the group saw her panicking, Tayla ran in to help her but got dragged into a rip. Thankfully, two guys were late-night surfing and heard the screams just in time.
The party had stopped; all eyes on where we stood. It angered me that many had their cells out, eagerly taking photos of what happened. Emerson didn’t care, avoiding me and not saying a word despite Tayla thanking me over and over again before being carried into the ambulance.
At the hospital, me and Wesley wait outside the room sitting on the hard, plastic chairs. We keep our distance, not saying a word to each other. The doctors check Tayla as a precautionary measure and with that, one of us had to call Chris and Abbi to inform them what happened.
Emerson is still in a state of shock, by her sister’s side and still refusing to talk to me or Wesley. Even Wesley looked remorseful, standing up and pacing the corridor with bloodshot eyes, coming down from whatever substance he had taken.
When Chris answers the phone, I tell him and Abbi that Tayla is okay now but of course explain what happened. He asks a million questions in a state of panic, and most importantly—why I was in LA.
I promise him that I will answer everything later, but for now, would make sure that Tayla rested and got better. It didn’t ease his worries; both of them catching the next flight over to see their daughter.
The paparazzi caught wind of the situation, camped outside the hospital as security tried to detain them. When it’s time to leave, Emerson’s bodyguard escorts her and Tayla through the underground entrance and into a black tinted SUV. Wesley decides to jump in with them, much to my annoyance, and I follow the car, alone and still reeling from what happened.
Outside Emerson and Wesley’s apartment, the paparazzi are stationed with their cameras. When the cars pull up, the frenzy begins. The cameras out snapping away, journalists running across the street knocking on the glass window of the car asking personal questions. I thought I could get away with driving right behind them, but soon the attention diverts to my window.
“Is it true you and Emerson Chase are having an affair?”