Wha…? “Ash? What the fuck?” I struggle and twist, but Ash just grins at me, walking backward, holding my legs.
“I think he needs to cool down,” Dylan pipes up from behind my back, and just as the words sink in, Ash wades into water, and I’m dropped into the lake.
Impact. Cold. Water in my eyes, my mouth, my nose.
A dark space in my mind expands, sucking me in. Terror grips me. I can’t move. A scream builds in my throat, but I can’t let it out. It chokes me.
So I do what I always do, even if I know it’s in vain: I fight. I struggle. I kick and punch and hit right and left.
And it’s just never enough.
***
So much for distractions and a fun afternoon. Shit.
Ash parks right in front of my building and turns to look at me. “Z-man. You okay?”
I’m wrapped in the picnic blanket, still in my soaked clothes and shoes. I sure as hell am not okay. And yet... just how sick is it that having seen Dakota lick her popsicle makes it all worth it?
“I’m fine,” I say, and even I wince at how dead my voice sounds. I open the car door. “Thanks for the ride.”
“Zane.”
The use of my full name from Ash stops me. He rarely uses it. I see his hand hovering by my elbow, but he isn’t touching me.
Of course he isn’t. If there’s one guy who knows me—who knows more about me than any other—it’s Ash. He’s been through his own hell. Back in high school, we hung out together talking when something bad happened to either of us. There were times I knew I wouldn’t have pulled through if not for him.
And then, when his dad went apeshit on him and almost killed him, when he joined an illegal fight club to escape home and was fucking stabbed and almost died in the cold, I refused to see the signs. Failed him. Found him at the last possible moment.
He says I saved him. I know better.
“Zane. Hey.” Ash is staring at me. “What happened back there? Man, I’ve seen you swim a thousand times. Why did you freak out like that?”
He has a darkening bruise on his jaw. I clocked him a good one, apparently, as I struggled with my flashback—memories that take over real time without warning. Guilt gnaws at my stomach lining. Which is why I stop and think about his question, instead of sending him to hell and climbing out of his car.
Because he’s right. He’s never seen me panic in the water before. Hasn’t happened in a while.
“I guess…I wasn’t expecting it.” My Mohawk is wet and dripping in my eyes. I wipe a hand over my face. “Caught me by surprise, is all.”
Ash is giving me the look, the one he reserves for me when he thinks I’m being a total idiot. “That’s bullshit, man. You don’t scare that easily.”
Or that bad. And that’s the problem. Ash knows me well—but he’s rarely seen me at my worst. Today qualifies as my worst.
“Not having a good day,” I mutter, being as honest as I can and prepare to exit the damn car and end this conversation. It’s dangerous. Leading way too deep.
“Zane…Who tried to drown you?”
The quiet question hits me like a punch to the stomach, knocking the wind out of my lungs. Memories crowd my head until I think my skull will explode.
“Hey.” This time Ash’s hand lands on my shoulder, and I jerk away.
“Don’t, goddammit.” I open the door and haul my sorry ass outside. “Just don’t.”
I pull the soggy blanket off as I stride to my building and unlock the door. Fuck, fuck. I run up the stairs, and when I try to open my apartment door, my hand shakes. I shove the key into the lock, and finally stumble inside.
What a fucked-up day. I grab the bottle of whiskey from the shelf and sink into the sofa, not ready to take off my wet clothes and shower just yet. I just sit there, the bottle in my lap.
What the hell happened? I normally stay on top of this shit, don’t let it dictate my life. I guess it’s the mess with my sister. It fucked me up more than I realized, and then came the shock of the cold water.