Total pages in book: 167
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 157162 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 786(@200wpm)___ 629(@250wpm)___ 524(@300wpm)
“You check inside, I’ll go outside,” he said.
I looked at the rain battering the windows, making visibility shit, coupled with the rapidly dimming light. It was a shitty thing to have to do, running out there when Calliope was likely in the bathroom or taking a call somewhere, but Beau didn’t hesitate before he jogged out the door.
I flagged down Dave, telling him to take care of the bar while I took five. He nodded and easily took over. I forced my steps to remain unhurried as I searched the back, my office, knocking on the door to the ladies room, looking for her.
Nowhere.
I grabbed my phone from my pocket. Rowan answered on the first ring.
“Have you heard from Calliope?” I told myself I was overreacting and that she’d be furious at me for involving her brother.
“No.” His answering tone was already tight with apprehension. “Why?”
“Probably nothing.” I clutched the back of my neck. “She was at the bar, now she’s not. All of her things are still there.”
“It’s not nothing,” Rowan scoffed. “I’ll make some calls, be over there in five.”
The intensity and concern underneath his harsh tone did nothing to silence the low hum of panic that was radiating through my brain.
I wanted to tell him everything was fine, that I could handle it, could take care of my woman. But I squashed my ego. I’d rather have bruised pride from overreacting than regret that I didn’t take all the help I could get.
Already I was preparing for Calliope telling me off for involving her brother. I looked forward to it. I prayed for it, once I’d moved through the entire restaurant and couldn’t find a sign of her.
Beau hadn’t returned from outside. As the rain pounded heavier, a stone of dread settled in the pit of my stomach.
I opened the patio doors that one of the waiters had just closed to stop the spray of rain from coming inside. All the outside tables had been abandoned due to the downpour. I leaned over the railing, searching the now darkened beach for a sign of Beau or Calliope.
My eyes squinted as lightning flashed, illuminating the rough seas for nothing more than a second. A second was all I needed for my heart to stop and for my body to launch forward, clearing the railing and landing in the sand below. I barely felt the impact as I pushed my body to sprint toward the dock. The rain pelted against my skin, the ground uneven beneath my feet. I growled in my frustration that my legs weren’t moving fast enough.
I kept my eyes plastered to the same spot in the water as lightning flashed again. My blood was nothing but ice.
I could see them better now. My brother’s unmistakably large form, battling against the waves, arm around a lifeless form I knew was Calliope.
For as long as I lived, I would never, ever forget my brother fighting against the surf, holding my unconscious woman in the middle of a lightning storm.
I skidded on my knees, my stomach flattening against the dock to reach out to Beau as he approached with Calliope’s limp body in his arms.
I thanked God one thousand times that Beau had previously been a championship swimmer. Not many people would’ve been able to survive against the huge swells while holding 110 pounds of dead weight.
My hands slipped against her drenched blouse, as I hoisted her up onto the dock. My shoulders burned at the weight. Not because Calliope was heavy—it was one of my goals to put more weight on her —but because she didn’t move. I’d never forget the emotionally heavy toll of dragging my unconscious woman from the ocean.
I pulled her into my chest, she was sodden and limp. “Calliope.” I held her face. “Calliope!” I yelled then.
Nothing.
My brother hauled himself up onto the dock as I laid her down, realizing that she wasn’t breathing.
She wasn’t fucking breathing.
My entire world tilted sideways. Ten minutes ago, she’d whispered in my ear about blow jobs and photos. Three hours ago, I’d mounted a picture of me and her on the wall, the first of many to come. It wasn’t going to be the last.
“Call 911, now!” Beau roared through the rain. “I’ve got her.”
He quickly dropped down to put his ear to Calliope’s chest, placing his hands where they needed to be to start CPR.
I fought the urge to push his hands away, to do it myself. My brother was trained in lifesaving measures just as well as I was. Yet I had lost valuable seconds to my panic. Seconds Calliope might not have.
My hand trembled as I dialed in the pouring rain, willing my phone to work then shouting at the operator to get an ambulance to the dock, their replies lost against the rain.
Though I knew it wouldn’t arrive in time. Between the storm, the scant amount of resources our town had, the location of the restaurant… We couldn’t rely on anyone else to save Calliope. It was just us.