Something Like Rain (Something Like... Book 8) (48 page)

The smile left William’s face. He missed being a part of that world. His loss. He picked up his burger and took a bite.

Jason continued to watch him. “I don’t know what to say because I never hear from you anymore.”

William swallowed. “Remember how being a rescue swimmer ruined Kevin Costner’s marriage in the movie?”

“Yeah,” Jason said. “I understand why, but it’s not like you couldn’t— Never mind. I missed you. That’s all.”

William missed him too. He supposed that would never change. Especially now.

“But I get it,” Jason added.

William looked up. “You do?”

“Yeah. I’m embarrassed it took me this long, but…” Jason sat up, putting on a brave expression. “Anyway, I noticed there was absolutely
no
sewing in that movie. I still think you’re messing with me.”

“I’ll prove it!” William said. “Somehow.”

“It just so happens I have needle and thread in the car,” Jason said, “and some underwear I found on the street. They’re full of holes and so dirty that they’re completely stiff, but I’m sure your rescue sewing skills will have them fixed up in no time.”

He was kidding, of course, and his banter felt a little forced, but William appreciated the effort to make this easy on him. He didn’t deserve that. The rest of the meal passed in a similar fashion. They avoided serious topics, or any mention of love and relationships. When all that remained on their trays were crumpled wrappers and empty paper cups, Jason stood. “I won’t keep you any longer.” He paused, perhaps considering how these words had a much more poignant interpretation. “I know you’re busy.”

“Yeah,” William said, standing and taking both their trays to the trash can. One final act of chivalry. Pathetic.

“Walk me to my car?” Jason said.

William wasn’t sure how hopeful this suggestion was, but he complied. When they were standing beside Ben’s old car, William struggled to find the right words. Or at least any he would allow himself to speak. Jason seemed to be waiting too, but then he gave up and opened his arms for a hug. William wanted nothing more than to pull Jason close. Instead he kept their bodies distant, angled away when they embraced. An unsatisfying end to what had been the best relationship of his life. He felt like apologizing, or explaining, or making promises he couldn’t keep. Instead he settled on a single word that broke his heart to say.

“Goodbye.”

* * * * *

Hell was often painted in flames, or sometimes dressed in ice, but for William, Hell was a lurching sea at night, the sky filled with torrents of rain. In other words, the very weather the helicopter was currently flying through. His version of paradise was the flipside of this environment—sapphire skies, gentle clouds, and a warm sun keeping watch over a calm ocean. God how he wished that’s where they were now! Not for his sake, but for the poor soul stranded somewhere down below. The fishing boat had sent a distress signal more than an hour ago. Just one man was aboard, Captain Gonzalez, who radioed to tell them his engine had lost power. The storm had moved in quickly to claim his vessel, contact lost soon after.

The helicopter interior was quiet as they made repeated sweeps over his last known coordinates. Occasionally one of them would call out, believing they had spotted something in the turbulent waters below, but they were always mistaken. The dark made their mission all the more impossible, even with night vision and heat-sensing technology, but they couldn’t quit. Not when a person’s life depended on them.

“Mark, mark, mark!” Francis said over the radio. “We have visual!”

The helicopter slowed to a hover, the searchlight illuminating an object below. William saw the hull and keel, waves lapping over both. The boat had capsized! “Get in closer,” he said, but he didn’t need to because Francis was already bringing the helicopter as low to the water as they dared, the searchlight moving over the waves. Debris was everywhere. He scanned the area for the blinking light that was built into higher-end life jackets. Nothing. Not even a flare. They circled around the boat, still searching. The captain might have taken shelter from the storm and still be trapped inside. If so, they were unable to help him. The waves were merciless, washing over the vessel. From the way it bobbed, it had taken on a lot of water. Enough that the captain would have abandoned ship by now.

“No signs of life,” Francis said. “Thirty minutes to bingo.”

Meaning that they only had so much fuel left and would need to start back to base. William tried to put himself in the mindset of the captain, who had radioed for help and been expecting them. He would have watched the skies for their approach, ready to shoot a flare when he saw them coming. Most likely that would put him above deck when the boat capsized, or when the first waves washed over it. Maybe he was down there now, staring up at them and unable to signal his whereabouts, praying that they would see him and come to help. William could also imagine his desperation when his one hope turned and flew away.

“Might be a lost cause,” Christie said from next to him, tacitly seeking his permission.

“Twenty-five minutes,” Francis said. “We’ll have to come back out or—”

“I see him!” William lied. “Survivor at eleven o’clock.” He pointed to the biggest cluster of debris. “Lower me down.”

As the helicopter moved closer to the proposed target, he began to doubt this gambit, but he would gain a new vantage point when actually in the water. His crew expressed their confusion, no one else seeing what he had because of course he hadn’t seen anything. Jumping in these conditions was too dangerous, especially with so many obstacles below, so they chose an area on the edge of the clutter. William was attached to the pulley and slowly lowered. Winds buffeted him, making him spin in the air. He could tell from their chill that the water would be even colder, late March showing no signs of spring. He ignored the conditions as best he could, still searching as he neared the water. Just before he splashed down, he thought he saw a figure bobbing in the water, one arm raised skyward. He did the same after detaching himself to show he was okay and free. Then he started swimming in what he hoped was the right direction. The helicopter’s spotlight illuminated him and followed his progress.

Despite all the cutting-edge gear he was provided with, salt water still soaked into his suit, got inside his snorkel, and did everything to drag him down. That was his first battle: resisting the elements. The next was fighting against his emotions. Fear, desperation, doubt—these things might plague his personal life, but he couldn’t afford them now. He shoved his feelings aside, focused on his training, and prayed the odds would be in his favor.

A straight swim was impossible. Metal barrels surfed on the heaving swell, threatening to knock into him. The Styrofoam coolers weren’t as worrying, the dead fish that had been the vessel’s catch that day merely unpleasant. Other artifacts from the ship made his search more difficult. More than once he swam toward what he thought was a person, but turned out to be only random equipment. He ignored the cold seeping into his body and pressed on, trying to keep track of time. He couldn’t stay out here forever. Not without putting his crew at risk. If the helicopter ran too low on fuel in these conditions—

William saw a hand shoot into the air before disappearing again. He summoned all his strength and raced toward it, hope exploding from his heart when he finally found what he was looking for: Captain Gonzales, eyes wide in panic, but very much alive due in large part to the life vest he was wearing. “I’m a rescue swimmer,” William shouted as he got near. “Everything is going to be—”

A wave crashed over him, his body spinning like a spool with its thread being yanked. William rode this out and kicked to the surface, only to find that everything had changed. He had been playing a game of chess and someone had upended the board and put all the pieces back in the wrong places. He spun around in the water, searching for the captain. The spotlight above found him, and after signaling he was okay, he moved through the water. Time was precious, not just because of fuel concerns, but because he had no idea how long Captain Gonzales had been in the water and if he was suffering hypothermia. The spotlight stopped moving, focusing on a point ahead of him. William swam toward it. The captain was there, his head listing to one side, his body low like he no longer had the strength to kick. The captain was dangerously close to the hull of the ship and likely to be sucked under.

William cut a line toward him, mind counting down the minutes and trying to calculate how close he could get to the hull without being pulled under himself. He felt the suction just as he reached the captain, grabbing him and swimming them both away from the capsized vessel. He stopped when he felt they were at a safe distance, but they weren’t out of danger. Another wave washed over them, this one smaller. William was prepared, not letting go of the survivor. As soon as it had passed, he quickly assessed the captain. He was no longer conscious, his skin pale, a laceration just beneath the hairline. Worse than that, Captain Gonzales was no longer breathing. William signaled the helicopter, relieved when he saw the basket already on its way down. The wind was blowing it around, causing it to spin. They might need to lower the hook instead. Did they have time for multiple attempts? Or was this it? The basket splashed down, farther away than he liked. He swam for it, pulling Gonzales with him. When he reached it, William growled with effort to get the man inside. Usually he would send a survivor up on their own, the lighter weight meaning they would get to safety quicker, but unless he acted fast, all they would be bringing back with them was a corpse.

William climbed into the basket, already pulling off his mask and snorkel before the helicopter lifted into the air. Once it did, he arranged Gonzales as best he could and started resuscitation. Chest compressions. A lungful of air forced past frozen lips. More compressions. A silent prayer to God. Another lungful of air. The chopping sound of the helicopter above was nearer now but Gonzales still wasn’t responding. William tore open the lifejacket and tried again, pressing the base of his hands against the chest, touching his lips to those of a dead man and trying to breathe life into him.

Christie was shouting at him, pulling at the basket, trying to get it inside, but William ignored her. One more set of chest compressions, one more borrowed breath… Salt water splattered his face, followed by a wheeze and rough coughs. William pulled back, saw the captain’s eyes shoot open, then squeeze shut again against the rain and light. He was alive! William didn’t allow himself any relief or satisfaction. Now his survivor had become a patient, and what mattered most was getting him aboard and warm again. After a flurry of activity, he had the captain seated inside the helicopter and was piling every available blanket on him, even the one Christie tried to wrap around William’s shoulders. Then he fell into one of the flight seats, the adrenaline receding and leaving him exhausted. He sucked in air, trying to calm himself. William looked over and saw Christie checking on the captain. She met his gaze and gave him a thumbs up. William smiled in return as the helicopter flew toward the coast. Soon they would be home again. And safe.

* * * * *

The ambulance had gone, a weeping wife climbing into the back with her husband. William’s cheeks were still wet from her kisses. His crew had jostled him with congratulatory hugs, all of them sharing in the credit for this rescue. It felt good, and yet, part of him felt like crying. Maybe from relief. Or because this was the one. Of all the missions he had been on, this was the first rescue that convinced him he had saved a life. Had he not been there, that wave would have crashed down over Gonzales, debris would have knocked him unconscious, and the captain would have drowned. Hell, a smarter man wouldn’t have pretended to see him down there in the first place!

Once showered and partly dressed, William stood at his locker and pulled out his phone. His first instinct was to tell Kelly, of all people. He had finally done something big enough to make up for the horrible accident, but in truth, he knew that wasn’t possible. He couldn’t give Kelly back his leg. Pretending otherwise was unfair. Then he thought of Jason, how he had loved William enough to let him go. Not just once, but every time he left town again. Especially the most recent, when he had reacted with grace to an ugly situation. Jason hadn’t yelled or tried to hurt him back. He had simply let go. Jason deserved part of the credit too.

William’s thumb moved over the keyboard on the screen, sending him the news.

I saved a life tonight.

He looked away as someone patted him on the back in congratulations. After a quick conversation, he returned his attention to the phone to read the reply. Still none. He finished getting dressed and checked again. A response!

Wow. All I did tonight was go to a gay bar.

William swallowed against the pain that rose up. Jason probably thought he was boasting, or maybe he wanted to be clear that he too had moved on. William wished he could explain how their sacrifice hadn’t been in vain. Instead he decided to tell Jason the only thing that really mattered to him.

I want you to be happy.

The response was much quicker this time.
I’m proud of you. So crazy hugely proud of you! You’re my hero. You always will be.

“Thank you,” William said out loud, wiping away the sudden tears. Then he spoke the words he wouldn’t allow himself to send. “I love you, Jason. You have no idea. I love you so much! I always will.”