It takes me a moment to piece together what is happening. I watch dazed as he wades farther and farther into the water. First, his hips vanish beneath the inky black surface. And then his huge shoulders. Gone. Followed by his head. Several seconds pass and he doesn’t come up. What is he doing?
I don’t realize I’m crawling toward the water until my knees protest the fine sand and rocks digging into my injured skin, but I keep going. Then I push myself up onto shaky legs and start running, throwing myself into the ocean. He still hasn’t come up. It has been at least twenty seconds. The shockingly cold temperature of the water barely registers, because my insides are much colder. I’m a block of ice and chattering teeth cutting through the water, screaming his name, trying to keep my eyes on
