Chapter 39
Elena's POV
The water was freezing. Not cold—freezing. The kind of cold that stops your lungs mid-breath and makes your body scream to surface immediately.
But I didn't surface.
I kicked down, my winter coat dragging like lead weights, my vision blurred by murky pond water. I couldn't see him. Panic clawed at my throat. Where was he? Where—
There.
A dark shape, sinking. Not struggling. Not fighting. Just... letting go.
I grabbed his hand with both hands and pulled. He was so much heavier than me, dead weight in every sense of the word. My lungs burned. I needed air. But I couldn't let go.
I kicked harder, dragging him upward, my muscles shaking, my vision starting to spot. Just a little more. Just—
We broke the surface.
I gasped, choking on air and water, my grip on Caleb's collar never loosening. The shore wasn't far but it felt impossible. My body moved on pure adrenaline while my mind screamed that I was going to drown, we were both going to drown—
My hand hit ice. The edge. I pushed Caleb toward the shore. I got his upper body onto the ice, then his legs, then collapsed beside him, shaking violently.
His lips were blue. His chest wasn't moving.
Oh God. He's not breathing—
I rolled him onto his back, my hands shaking so badly I could barely position them right. The first aid training from school—what did they say? Thirty compressions, two breaths. Don't stop until—
I started compressions.
His chest was hard under my palms, ribs solid and unyielding. I pushed down, counting in my head, my voice coming out in broken gasps. "One, two, three—please wake up—four, five, six—"
Thirty compressions. I tilted his head back, pinched his nose, hesitated for half a second—this is Caleb, I'm about to—
Fuck it. I sealed my mouth over his and breathed.
Two breaths. Back to compressions. My arms burned. Tears blurred my vision.
"Wake up. Wake up, please—"
Nothing. His face stayed slack, colorless.
Another round.
I was crying now, ugly sobs tearing out of my throat as I pushed down on his chest again and again. "I didn't pull you out just so you could—just so—"
He coughed.
Violent, choking, water spewing from his mouth as his body convulsed. I yanked him onto his side and he kept coughing, kept retching, lake water pouring out until he finally drew a shuddering breath.
He was alive.
I sat back hard, my hands shaking, my whole body shaking, and I started crying harder. Relief and terror and fury all crashing through me at once.
Caleb lay there gasping, his eyes barely open, and I couldn't take it anymore.
I punched him.
Not hard. I didn't have the strength for hard. But I hit his chest with my fist and the sound that came out of me was half-sob, half-scream.
"Are you insane?!"
He didn't answer. Didn't even look at me.
I hit him again, weaker this time. "You just—you just jumped! You wanted to—"
The words stuck in my throat. I couldn't say it. Couldn't make it real.
I collapsed forward, pressing my face against his soaked shirt, my shoulders heaving with sobs I couldn't control. My tears soaked into the fabric, warm against the cold, and I felt his chest rise and fall beneath my cheek—slow, labored, but there.
We were both freezing. Both shaking. But I held onto him anyway, like if I let go he'd disappear.
I don't know how long we stayed like that. Long enough for my crying to turn into hiccups. Long enough for the cold to seep so deep into my bones that I couldn't feel my fingers.
I pulled back, scrubbing at my face with numb hands. Caleb was staring up at the gray sky, his expression completely blank.
"My dad..." The words came out broken. "My dad doesn't like me either."
His eyes shifted toward me. Still empty, but listening.
"But you know what?" My voice cracked. "Living means... maybe things get better. Right? Maybe—maybe there's good stuff coming. You just have to stay alive long enough to see it."
"Please don't..." I whispered, my throat closing up. "Don't scare me like that again. I know things are bad for you. I know. But they'll get better. They have to."
Silence.
"Believe me," I was begging now. "Just... wait a little longer. Please."
He still didn't speak. But after a long moment, his fingers twitched against the frozen ground.
It wasn't a yes. But it wasn't a no either.
---
I found the old groundskeeper's shed—more of a shack, really. Inside was a dusty electric heater that somehow still worked when I plugged it in.
I dragged Caleb inside and shoved him toward the heater. He tried to pull away.
"No," I said firmly. "You need to dry off or you'll get sick."
"I'm fine."
"You're not fine!" My voice came out sharper than I meant. "Just—sit."
He sat.
I crouched beside the heater, my own clothes soaked through, teeth chattering so hard I bit my tongue. The small space filled with the heater's buzzing hum and our ragged breathing.
Neither of us spoke.
I kept glancing at him, terrified he'd try to leave, try to—
But he just sat there, staring at nothing, water dripping from his hair onto the concrete floor.
I wrapped my arms around myself and stayed close. Not touching, but close enough.
---
Present Day
I stared at my phone screen, Caleb's contact pulled up.
My fingers hovered over the keyboard.
---
Caleb's POV
The approval document sat on my desk, Marcus's signature stark black at the bottom.
Today, it was greenlit. Funding allocated. Full autonomy granted.
I should've felt something. Victory, maybe. Vindication.
Instead I felt nothing.
I pressed my thumb and forefinger against the bridge of my nose, pushing back the dull ache building behind my eyes. Last night there'd been a family dinner at Blackwood Manor. Elena would've been there. With Damon.
The thought made my jaw clench so hard my teeth ached.
"Yo." Hector stuck his head in without knocking. "Got the Aetheria guys confirmed. They're in."
"Good."
"Elena's still 'thinking about it.'" He made air quotes, his tone dry. "Want me to push harder?"
"No." The word came out too sharp. I exhaled slowly. "She'll decide when she's ready."
"Right." Hector studied me for a beat too long. "Hey, uh... funny thing. I figured out where I recognized her from."
My hand stilled on the document.
He continued casually, "I borrowed your wallet once. For coffee. Saw a photo inside. School uniform, clean smile, standing at some gate—"
"Get out."
"Easy, boss." He raised his hands. "I'm not gonna say anything. We've known each other how long? I know when to keep my mouth shut."
I looked up at him slowly, my expression flat and cold.
He held my gaze, then shrugged. "Just saying. If you care about her—"
"Hector."
"Okay, okay." He backed toward the door. "But for the record? You've carried that photo for six years. That's not nothing."
The door clicked shut.
I sat there, staring at the empty doorway, my hand unconsciously moving to my jacket pocket where my wallet sat.
---
My phone buzzed.
Elena's name lit up the screen. I unlocked it instantly, faster than I meant to, and froze.
What did it feel like to jump?
No context. No explanation. Just those five words.
But I knew exactly what she was asking.
The lake. The jump. The most desperate thing I'd ever done that year.
My heart slammed against my ribs. My vision tunneled.
She wouldn't. She can't be—
The thought seized my throat like a vice.