Out of the Depths

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHANCE WAS SO ANGRY and frustrated he could spit—that is, if he could work up enough moisture in his mouth to form any spit. Even at the rate they’d agreed on—one swallow every two hours—the second water bottle was almost empty.

He kicked the wall instead, but it didn’t make him feel any better and only hurt his toe. He’d promised Kyndal he’d find a way out or find some water today and now the day was almost over. Failure—both counts.

The muscles in his legs and back cramped as though he’d covered miles, squeezing through gaps, crawling through holes, climbing over boulders. Nothing. No hint of moisture. No sign of light. No flicker of hope to ease the panic pounding in his temples.

Each time he went back to check on Kyndal, she looked so hopeful. And each time, he faced the disappointment in her eyes. No tears. Probably too dehydrated to make any. She smiled and said it was okay.

But it wasn’t okay, damn it. Damn it to hell, it was not okay! Fifteen hours of exploration should’ve brought him something other than sore muscles and an aching toe. He should be able to fix this. His dad would say he shouldn’t have let this happen. What kind of man was he that he couldn’t get them out of this? Guilt slammed a one-two punch into his empty gut.

He kicked the wall again with his other foot.

Almost eight o’clock. Water time. The last one. He’d lie and tell Kyn he’d already taken his turn. That would leave one more, and he’d make her go first next time.

He followed arrows he had scratched in the dirt back to his coins. From there he knew the path by heart, he’d followed it so many times today.

In the big room—Kyndal’s name for the cavern they’d fallen into—he stopped under the hole in the ceiling and let go a few blasts on the whistle. He listened after each one, hoping someone would hear and call out. There was no answer.

He trudged past the spiderweb, admitting defeat. Tomorrow he would explore the area on the other side of the big room.

There had to be a way out, and if it was there, he would find it.

He took a deep breath and settled his face into what he hoped was a look of confidence before crawling once more through the T-shirt covered hole. “Honey, I’m home.”

The air in their niche was several degrees warmer than outside—or maybe being near Kyndal warmed him up.

“And I’m glad, but don’t expect me to be cooking your dinner. You promised we’d go out tonight.” Her voice sounded scratchy, but she smiled. The light illuminated her dirt-smudged face and the dark circles under her eyes, but she was still beautiful. Maybe her attitude added to the allure. All day, she’d been excited and hopeful every time he returned. Not once had she whined or cried or complained. She smiled and joked like now, no doubt trying to make him forget she was in pain.

Nothing could make him forget what a miserable failure he’d been today.

“You’re not going out again, are you?”

He shrugged. Now that he’d seen her, he wasn’t nearly as tired. He might be able to manage one more excursion.

“Please don’t go. I feel totally useless sitting here.” She combed her fingers absently through her hair. “You’re giving it all you’ve got, and I’m sitting here doing absolutely nothing.”

“Quit berating yourself. If you could, you’d be out there with me in a heartbeat.” He handed her the water bottle. “How’s the ankle?”

She eased a pill from her jeans’ pocket and popped it into her mouth, taking a small sip to wash it down. “It hardly hurts at all unless I put direct pressure on it.” She held the bottle out to him.

“No, thanks. I’ve already had mine.”

“You’re lying.” Her eyes narrowed to slits, and the bottle didn’t move. “You haven’t been drinking your share. I’ve been watching.”

“And you’re lying about your ankle not hurting.”

The corners of her mouth turned up. “Okay, we’re even. Drink the water, and no more lying.”

Why did the woman have to be so pigheaded? He took the bottle and swallowed the last bit of water then threw the bottle against the wall. It bounced back at them defiantly. He caught it the instant before it hit her injured foot. Her face was already squinched in anticipation.

“Doesn’t hurt much, huh?”

She shrugged. “Not like it did yesterday. Honest. I think it’s kind of numb.”

He’d had football injuries like that. After the initial excruciating pain, things settled into a rhythmic throb, which led to a dull ache and eventually numbness. He pumped the flashlight and focused the beam on her foot. “The masking tape’s holding up well considering all the dust.” Though it had started to loosen in some areas and fray in others. “If it’ll last a few more hours, I’m sure we’ll be out of here.”

“I couldn’t stand sitting here in the dark any longer.” She rubbed her hands up and down her arms. “I got so desperate, I crawled out and took some more shots of the spiders.”

“You what?” He never dreamed she’d take such a chance. “We don’t know if they’re poisonous, and we sure as hell don’t want to find out the hard way. I told you to stay out of there.”

“I didn’t get close to them. I used my longest lens. But if you go out again, I’m going to go, too—even if I have to hop alongside you.”

The image eased his irritation and made him chuckle. “Well, I don’t want you to do that, and I am pretty tired.” The muscles in his calves started to cramp. He took off his boots and stretched his legs by holding his toes and pulling back. The muscles loosened and relaxed. “Do you want to play cards?”

“No.”

“Dominoes?”

“No.” She sighed. “I just want to talk.”

The way she spoke so solemnly jarred him. “Okay, we’ll talk.” He watched her take a deep breath. What did she want to say that was so difficult?

“You were right about what you said yesterday.” She paused. “I was far beyond clingy. Insisting we have every class together our senior year. Planning every class at Harvard together. Wanting you with me to the point you never had time with your friends. I held you way too tight, and I’m sorry.”

She had understood what he said yesterday. He was glad they’d cleared the air. Now maybe they could remain on friendly terms. “It’s okay.” He shrugged, and his shoulders ached at the slight move. “We were young, and it was first love, which comes with a huge learning curve.”

“What really bothers me, though, is how much I thought I loved you, yet how self-absorbed I was. I was so wrapped up in my cocoon of self-pity, I never thought about the pressure you were under or how much you were hurting. Basically, I guess your dad was right. I wasn’t good for you.”

The conversation had taken a serious turn that Chance wasn’t up for. The mention of his dad reminded him of his failure today and how much work was piling up at the office. He rubbed his shoulders, trying to ease the tension. “Young love’s tough. My biggest regret is breaking up with you with no warning. It had to have been a shock.”

“Yeah, but if I’d been warned, I would have talked you out of it.” Her laugh held a bitterness that made him cringe. “It was the only way for you to break free of my hold.”

They were silent for a while, and then she cocked her head. “Do you regret that we had sex so young?”

“Not at all.” He shook his head and felt the movement deep in his shoulders.

“Neither do I.”

He smiled and gave her a wink. She winked back.

“Do you think about him a lot?”

Chance closed his eyes, running back through the conversation to locate the him. “My dad?”

“Hank,” she whispered.

Phantom pain shot through his heart, imagined, but somehow real. “Yeah.” His breath caught. “Every day.”

* * *

WHEN CHANCE’S VOICE BROKE, Kyndal felt it in her throat. All day long, she’d been softening toward him…playing yesterday’s confession over and over in her mind as she sat motionless in the dark. He had loved her, truly and deeply.

“You were my everything,” he’d said.

Like water had eroded the walls of the cave thousands of years ago, those words started eroding the protective covering around her heart. She felt it open toward this man she’d worked for nine years to keep out, felt it reaching out to him in sympathy.

His body was a study in anguish: furrowed brow, tightened jaw, hunched shoulders, fisted hands. God, he’d worked so hard today. He needed to relax.

And she needed a reason to touch him.

Kneeling, she eased around behind him, careful not to jostle her ankle too much, and began massaging his shoulders. “I think Hank is very proud of the man his little brother has become.”

The flashlight rested on the ground, throwing its light away from them. And yet, she could feel his unfathomable sorrow as the silhouette of his shoulders moved slowly up and down. “I hope so.”

She kneaded harder, trying to let her fingers absorb the tightness she heard in his voice, but the shirt made it difficult to reach the knotted muscles.

“Take off…” She cleared the lump from her throat. “Take off your shirt. The flannel won’t move around.”

Until the material slid from his shoulders and her fingers rested on bare skin, she didn’t realize how dangerous the ground she treaded on was.

Her thoughts today hadn’t stalled on his confession; they’d been inspired by it. Under the cover of this intense darkness, she’d allowed herself a freedom she hadn’t experienced in nine years—hours of remembering their good times together. Until today, she’d only permitted herself to think about the bad times, keeping the ego pain fresh and the heart pain at bay.

Today, she’d remembered the sweetness of that first time together, and their excitement and amazement as each encounter brought new discoveries. She remembered how they’d been open to new things and honest with each other about everything.

Never far from her thoughts were the present fears she kept submerged. Their food was gone. Water was gone. Time was running out. She wouldn’t let herself think about dying, but even rescue meant saying goodbye to Chance again…this time with the painful insight of a newly discovered truth—he’d loved her as much as she’d loved him. But he’d left her just the same. Because she’d been too clingy? She was guilty of that, and he’d rationalized himself into believing it was the reason.

But she’d been his everything…and even that wasn’t enough to make him want to stay with her.

She’d pieced together the others things he said—the cracks about her politics and her job…and her lack of a job.

Being everything to him wasn’t enough to hold him because she wasn’t good enough. Never had been…never would be until she became that somebody she’d always dreamed of being.

The truth hurt, but she could accept it because now she understood.

She splayed her fingers and pressed her thumbs firmly along his spine at each vertebra. He grunted hard with each compression and sometimes added a pleasure-filled moan.

The sounds weren’t lost on Kyndal. They were the same sounds he made when they used to make love. Each grunt and groan stirred her more until she was holding her breath in between and releasing it to his rhythm.

They’d be rescued, and they’d say goodbye again, and he’d go back to his law practice with his dad, and she’d go back to her photography.

She wanted him to leave this place with a new opinion of her. One that would erase any previous memory of her clinginess.

Maybe that’s why they were stuck in this cave—karma’s way of letting them walk away in peace.

She took a long breath and smoothed her palms up his back, across his shoulders, along his neck. Then her fingers spread, and she slid them from the nape into his hair.

He groaned as her lips made contact with the back of his neck.