Ocean (Damage Control 5)

I almost miss the site in the dark and the drizzle, but I spot the gap in the roadside fence just in time and park on the shoulder.

Holy crap, he went right through. I gape at the pick-up sized hole in the metal fence and my gut clenches.

And that’s when I remember that, in my panic and rush to get here, I forgot to call 9-1-1. So I do that as I finally get moving, throwing the door open and jumping out, zipping up my jacket.

It’s cold out here, the wind sharp. In the illumination of the headlights, I climb off the asphalt road and slide in the wet mud down the sloping ground. Something big and flat glitters a little further, catching the headlights of a passing car.

Water. A pond. A large holding pond.

My breath catches in my throat as I move toward the flat expanse. Ocean didn’t say anything about a pond, and while my conscious mind knows he’s all right—we spoke not so long ago—the fear I feel can’t be checked. It makes my back cramp and my muscles tighten, my skin feel itchy and too small for my body.

“Ocean!” I reach the edge of the water and look down at its shimmery surface, my flesh crawling. Bile rises in my throat. “Ocean, where are you?”

This has to be the place, right? Crap, could this be the place of an older accident, and he’s someplace else, waiting for me?

Or he’s in his car, under the water, already d—

“Kay.” The voice is low, and raspy, and I spin around so fast I almost fall over. “Here.”

He’s sitting on the ground, his broad shoulders hunched over. His hair is plastered to his head, half-covering his face. He lifts a hand to sweep it back, and even in the dimness I can see how badly it’s shaking.

Jesus.

I scramble down in the mud to touch his face. His skin is icy cold, and he grunts when I cup his cheeks, his stubble rough under my palms.

“Hey, Sweet Muffins.” His mouth twists into a weak grin.

Trust Ocean to remember the stupid nickname he gave me while sitting in the mud and probably in shock. “Where is your Chevy?”

“In the pond.”

“The world tilts. “Oh God, you could have died. I…” I force the hysteria down. “Are you hurt? Is anything broken?”

He shakes his head in my hands, and just like that, a dam breaks, and I have tears running down my face, scalding hot. I throw my arms around him, holding him to me.

“You’re okay,” I whisper over and over. “You got out. You got out okay.”

After a while I realize he’s still shaking in my hold, great shudders wracking his big frame. He must be freezing, I think. He’s drenched in icy water.

“I’m calling an ambulance.” I pull back reluctantly, slide my hands back up to his face. I can’t stop touching him. “Just to make sure nothing’s wrong.”

“No. No ambulance.” His eyes look huge and dark in his white face. His hands come up to find my own face, ice-cold and unsteady. “No hospitals.”

My protest is lost in the brush of his lips over mine, shockingly cold, and soft, and firm, and I kiss him back, a sob catching in my throat.

He draws back. “You all right?”

“You’re asking me?” God, of course he is.

He almost died, and he’s worried about me. He’s the sweetest boy ever, protective and selfless, and I want…

I want to protect him, too, to take care of him. I want to be with him, be the one he smiles for, the one he turns to when he needs help.

And he did, didn’t he? He called me first. What does it mean?

“Kay?”

“I’m fine.” I smile absently.