Raging Sea (Undertow, #2)

“I love you, ladies,” I say.

When I’m done, they help me out of the bath and rub moisturizer all over me—my back, my scalp, my feet and face. They apply more ointment to wounds and scratches Amy ignored, then help me into a robe and slippers. They lead me to the sink, where a tube of toothpaste and a brush await me. As they remove the toothbrush from the packaging, I stare into the mirror at someone I don’t recognize. I’m gaunt, tired, and pale, like a ghost who refuses to believe she is no longer alive. It’s a wonder that Fathom knew who I was when I saw him. I’m ashamed, which is stupid, but it kills me to know he saw me this weak and broken. I’m almost glad my mother didn’t wake up and see me too.

I squeeze some toothpaste onto the brush and go to work. The mint has a shocking bite. Dental floss feels like lasers shredding my mouth apart. Still, I force myself to do my best, spitting out one red mouthful after another. I turn the knob for water to wash it down the drain and watch it swirl around in the bottom of the sink. Odd that I’ve missed hearing its whisper in my ears. I suppose Spangler will have to turn off whatever it is that jams my glove if he wants me to train those kids. Wait! I’ll have an opportunity to get us all out of here this time, and not as some mad unplanned dash through a maze of hallways. I will have my power back.

I nearly sprint out of the bathroom, and I make my way to the door. I want the guard outside to know I’ll train the kids. I want him to tell Doyle right away, but before I can get there, I see my ladies smiling at me from ear to ear.

“What?” I ask.

They point to a chair in the corner. Fathom is here. He’s in shorts and a T-shirt, all with the same stupid logo, but who cares? He’s here. He’s alive and in my room, and I have suddenly forgotten how to breathe.

Neither of us waits for the women to leave. He’s out of the seat and wrapping me inside his arms before I can really process him. I don’t even hear the click of the closing door. All my attention is on his face, his eyes, his mouth.

“I thought you were—”

He stops me with a kiss. It’s firm but gentle, romantic but passionate, everything I have ever dreamed a kiss could be and a few ways I never dared all at once. I wrap my arms around his neck, and he pulls me in with his. Our mouths never part. I’m not sure they can.

I don’t know how long it lasts—minutes? Days? We might live out the rest of our lives connected by this kiss. Fine with me. Eventually he pulls back, rests his hands on my shoulders, and looks me up and down.

“Did they harm you, Lyric Walker?”

“Yes, but I’ll be okay. I’m just a little beat up,” I admit.

He blushes a little.

“What?”

“I’d like to see,” he says.

I’m stunned and taken aback. It’s my turn to blush, not because he’s flirting, but because I want to show him, but there are too many faults and scars and wounds and I’m too thin and my head is shaved and my lips are chapped and I would do almost anything for a tube of lip gloss.

But then I take a deep breath and I drop the robe.

I feel like I’m going to cry. I wonder if I will ever be able to be vulnerable with another person again. I lean down to grab my robe, but he takes my hand, steps close, and wraps himself around me.

“You have a long way to go if you are trying to collect as many trophies as me,” he whispers.

He kisses me gently and runs his hands along my shoulders.

“I need to tell you something right now, while I still have the courage to do it,” I say.

“I love you, too,” he says.

I can’t help but smile, because that was actually the coolest thing any boy has ever said to me, and this guy, he’s not so good at being a boy or being cool. I realize then that all along, as intense as this feeling has been for him, it was always infatuation and lust, but now it actually is love.

Then, well . . . then we fade to black, and I learn about the afterglow.





Chapter Fifteen