"Grace," I shout, already stripping off my shirt. Shoes are kicked off and I'm diving into the water, fear icing my veins. Adrenaline propels me toward her. I don't hesitate to wrap an arm around her middle and kick for the surface, already anticipating mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
Why didn't I ask her if she could swim? I did this, by trying to drive home how irredeemable I am. She had to jump into the fucking water just to get away from me.
We reach the edge of the pool and I place her carefully on the side, climbing out after her, kneeling down on the cold stone, dizzy with worry. "Dammit, Grace." With unsteady hands, I tilt her head back, getting ready to blow breath into her lungs. "I'm sorry. Don't do this to me."
She peeks one eye open and smiles, whispering so low I almost can't hear her over the pounding of my pulse. "Uh oh." Pool water rolls down her temples. "Caught you being a good man again."
Shock sweeps me. Followed by relief like I've never known.
Then, there's respect I reserve for a worthy adversary.
And lastly, it's anger.
How dare she expose me like this? I don't even know what she's going to find if she peels back another layer and that absolutely cannot be allowed to happen. It's time to push her away once and for all. I can't risk another second of her expecting me to be good. To be the kind of man who saves people—or even gives a shit. When a man cares about someone, it's only a matter of time before that person deserts him. Before the business of feelings blows up in his face.