“I’m so fucking scared,” I whisper.
He wraps me up in his arms, lifting me slightly so my feet can kick out, just like always. “I know, baby. You’re allowed to be.”
“I can’t do it.”
“You don’t have to do it alone.”
I almost let him carry me the rest of the way. I almost fold into his softness and let that be enough. But something inside me, something wild and angry and mine, says no.
“No,” I say out loud this time.
I push back. My legs find the bottom again. The water’s at my chest now, and the weight of it is terrifying, a reminder of every nightmare. But it’s real. It’s mine.
Benji’s eyes search mine. He doesn’t stop me. Doesn’t try to hold me longer than I want.
“I wanna try,” I say.
He nods once, pride blooming across his face like sunrise.
I take a deep breath, push off the floor, and float. Just for a second. Just enough to move. My arms paddle, legs kicking sloppy. Not graceful. Not perfect. But me. Moving. Free.
I take a breath and it goes wrong.
Water hits the back of my throat. I sputter. Panic flares bright and hot. My chest locks. My limbs freeze. This is it, my brain shrieks, this is how it happens again.
“Delilah!” Benji’s voice is closer, but I don’t let him reach me.
I spit. I choke. I kick. And I keep going.
Not far. Not fast. But I make it to the wall. Myself. My hands slap the tile and I grip it like a prize, chest heaving, lungs fire-bright.
I did it.
“Holy fuck,” I wheeze. “Holy fuck.”
Benji’s there a second later, not touching, but glowing. Eyes shining. The pride on his face is so loud it drowns out the fear. “You did it,” he says.
I start to cry. I can’t help it. It’s all hitting me now, what I did, how much I’ve fought for it, how many ghosts I told to go fuck themselves today.
“I did,” I whisper.
And then Jett’s shouting from the other end of the pool, “You fucking did!” and there’s clapping, and Rhys is somehow holding a towel already and smiling like a proud professor who’s watching his favorite delinquent finally graduate.
I laugh through the tears. I laugh like I’m made of lightning.
Benji holds out his arms.
And this time I swim into them. On my own.
By the time I drag myself out of the pool, I’m trembling so hard I’m not even sure I can stand. My legs are jelly. My lungs are helium. My face is soaked and not just from the water.
And they descend.
Rhys is the first to reach me, all pressed linen and cool confidence, but his hands are almost shaking as he wraps the towel around my shoulders like it’s a goddamn coronation robe. “You were brilliant, pet,” he says, voice low and thick with feeling. His lips brush my temple. “Absolutely stunning.”
Benji’s right behind him, crouching down to rub my legs with another towel. His eyes are wide and wet, and his voice breaks as he says, “I’m so proud of you.” His hands slide up to cradle my face and then, fuck, he kisses me so softly it undoes me. “You did it. You really did it.”
“Of course I did,” I sniff, immediately crying again and laughing about it too. “I’m amazing.”
