Lifesaver
The Next Day – Sunday
‘COME ON, IT WILL be fun,’ Weston urged as he buckled up his boots.
‘I think I had my quota of fun yesterday,’ I reminded him as I did up the last buckle on mine, the reason for his rather odd early morning text asking for my shoe size now more than clear. Honestly, what was he thinking? After slaving over a hot stove on a scorching hot summer morning preparing lunch for us all, then enjoying my fair share, I was stuffed to the brim. I’d been looking forward to lazing around in the garden with him, talking and drinking a bottle or two of wine with my friends. But Abbie was still ill and had left early to go back to bed. Daphne was exhausted after missing her midday siesta yesterday, so Charlie had escorted her home. And Charlie said she needed to crack on with her latest book with the deadline looming, so that just left the two of us. And Bertie of course. Weston had convinced me that it was the perfect afternoon for Rollerblading around The Quarry park in Shrewsbury, following the loop of the river. ‘Besides, I’ve never even tried rollerskating, let alone Rollerblading.’
‘It’s easy once you find your centre of balance. You do yoga, this will be like a skate in the park,’ he teased. He stood up and showed off by zipping away, then circled back to where I still sat gripping the edge of the bench, Bertie’s lead hooked around my right wrist.
‘Is there anything you do badly?’ I complained, as he stood with his hands on his slim hips and maintained his balance with ease. If that were me right now, I’d be shooting backwards down the bank into the river or falling flat on my backside.
‘I’m not great at relationships,’ he admitted with a shrug. ‘But then you already know that. I’m sorry about running off yesterday.’ He bent over and grabbed my hands, pulling me up quickly. I screamed and wobbled alarmingly on my wheels, until he pulled me flush against his hard body and wrapped an arm around my waist to anchor me. My God, he should bottle his scent and sell it. Musk, lime, sandalwood, and … Weston. ‘I just … I’m kind of just enjoying being in a relationship again. The thought of marriage so soon after my failed attempt didn’t bring out the best in me.’ He grasped my chin with his free hand and tilted it up to force me to meet his apologetic gaze.
‘I get that,’ I whispered. ‘She was only teasing though. We both may have bad histories, but I don’t want that for my future. I really … care for you, Weston. It scares me a little that you’re going to find this, us, too much and bolt like you did with your ex.’ I felt my eyes dampening and sucked my lower lip into my mouth, desperately trying not to make a fool of myself and burst into tears at the thought of being dumped again.
‘I really care for you, Georgie. So much it scares me, too. And I know you’re not her. Our relationship is different and I don’t feel like I’m suffocating when I’m with you, I feel free. Freer than I’ve felt for a very long time, which is taking some getting used to, that’s all. If I run, you need to trust that it’s just to give myself time to breathe and regroup. I promise to always come back,’ he said, the sincerity in his voice and the shine from his vivid azure eyes forcing a tear to teeter on the edge of my lower lashes. ‘Don’t cry, it kills me to see a woman cry. I only ever want to put tears of happiness on your face, never sadness.’
‘I guess I’m just having a hard time believing that I’m worthy of your interest after… you know.’ The tear broke free and started sliding down my cheek. He caught it with his finger, swept it away, and pressed his lips against mine fleetingly. Far too fleetingly. Two months of dating, of seeing each other nearly every weekend, and we hadn’t yet had the kind of kiss where you both come up gasping for air and are left with a belly full of desire for each other and a bruised and raw mouth, and I’d never wanted anything more.
‘You’re stunning, intelligent, sexy, kind, and caring. Trust me, you’re worthy,’ he breathed, the warmth of his breath on my lips making them purse in need. ‘Damn it, we need to skate before I throw you down on this bench and make out like we’re horny teenagers.’ He quickly pulled his head back and eased me away from his body, taking my hands in his again.
‘I have no problem with that plan.’ I gave him my best attempt at a “come hither” smile and he groaned, closing his eyes for a moment.
‘Me neither, but I think this little chap was looking forward to a bit of exercise.’ He laughed as Bertie let out a series of barks and started to strain on his lead as a man jogged past with a labrador hot on his heels. ‘Pass me the lead while you practice here, you’ll be spinning and racing me before you know it.’
‘You could have picked a slightly more sexily-attired pastime,’ I objected. I had a black crash helmet on, which was going to ruin the beautiful hairdo I’d painstakingly styled this morning. I was in a white t-shirt and denim shorts, with black elbow and knee pads. Weston looked rugged and handsome in his get-up, I just looked stupid.
‘Nothing wrong with the view from where I’m standing,’ he quipped with a wink, his eyes quickly returning to my long legs and backside.
‘Luckily for me, I’ll be slower and I get to ogle your bottom for the rest of the afternoon,’ I retorted, my spirits quickly soaring at the affirmation that he still found me attractive.
An hour later, we were doing my version of a speed skate along the side of the river. Weston was holding my left hand while Bertie trotted in front of us, his lead in my right hand. I had picked it up quicker than I’d expected. It was the fear of falling over that was the worst at the start, but once I’d landed on my backside a few times and nothing was broken but my pride, I’d become more fearless. Weston changed hand positions, gently nudging his fingers between mine and squeezing tightly. My heart soared as we exchanged a look. The adoration, heat, and sheer possession in his eyes as he looked at me made me feel like the most beautiful woman in the world right now, despite how I looked.
As we skated, we talked, and finally he started to open up a bit. We shared our experiences of childhood. It turned out he had an older brother that had also been in the Army, but was now in the police force here in Shrewsbury. He even spoke a little about his own time in the Army and how hard he’d found it to deal with the loss of some of his closest friends in combat. It had been my turn to give his hand a gentle squeeze, while reminding myself not to pry for more detail than he’d offered. The fact that he’d opened up of his own volition meant the world to me. I just couldn’t imagine being in his shoes, of dealing with the horrors he’d experienced and needing to keep it bottled up.
It made me curious about his ex-fiancée. What had driven her to push him so hard that it forced the end of their relationship? I could understand that it would hurt to share your life with someone you loved, knowing that they were hiding a part of themselves from you, but equally who was anyone to judge how someone, who’d been through whatever Weston had, dealt with it. If burying it deep inside and not allowing the memories to come to the surface was the only way he could enjoy the present, then I wasn’t going to make the same mistake that she had. I just hoped that if our relationship progressed, I wouldn’t end up either resenting him for closing off that side of his life from me or turning into the type of girlfriend who thought she could be the one to change him. I knew only too well what the pressure of other people’s expectations had done to me, so I hoped that I could spare him that and accept him as he was.
‘Duck,’ he warned.
‘Where?’ My eyes quickly scanned the path ahead, worried I’d been so lost in my thoughts that I was about to leave some feathery road kill behind.
‘No, duck, weeping willow branches approaching fast.’
‘Damn it, don’t you dare let me topple forward and scuff up my face,’ I muttered as I steadied myself, ready to crouch. Bertie was panting as he happily ran along ahead of me. All of my advice on how you had to show the dog who was master had flown out of the window once I was in charge. How anyone managed to keep a dog at their heel was beyond me, and he was just a small puppy.
‘Good, bend your knees, try and keep your weight behind you,’ Weston coaxed as he maintained his hold on my hand. I saw him smile out of the corner of my eye as I wobbled on my blades, but quickly found my balance. For all of sixty seconds.
A huge sheepdog, off leash, came bounding up the path from the opposite direction, barking loudly. Bertie shot forward in his excitement to play with a new friend, totally oblivious to the potential dangers of a playmate more than five times his size. I was thrown off balance and landed on my backside with a thud on the hard, tarmacked path, almost dragging Weston down with me. He let go of my hand and gracefully spun to face me, then offered me both of his hands as he laughed.
‘Are you ok? You were doing so well.’
‘I know, that damn dog,’ I moaned as I tried to get back up, but my feet shot out from under me as if I was wearing my favourite high heels on ice.
‘Come on, take my hands,’ he ordered. I did as I was told and was soon upright again. ‘Do I need to inspect your bottom for breakages?’ he asked with a cheeky grin.
‘Only if I get to inspect yours.’
‘Hmmm,’ he murmured, dipping his head, his lips coming closer and closer to mine. I extended my neck to speed up the moment, but was interrupted by a series of loud barks.
‘Oh my God! Bertie, I let go of his lead!’ I cried, realising it was no longer wrapped around my wrist.
‘Shit!’ Weston exclaimed, spinning on his skates as we looked at the path ahead. ‘Where is he? Bertie!’ he yelled.
‘Bertie,’ I repeated frantically. I scanned the sloping embankment and spotted the sheepdog down below us, racing backwards and forwards along a patch of the riverbank, barking incessantly. I screamed, my hands flying to my mouth as my stomach lurched, threatening to expel the roast chicken meal I’d devoured a few hours ago. Bertie had fallen in the river and was struggling to stay afloat. By the time I’d registered what had happened, Weston had ripped his boots off, tossed his phone, car keys, and bizarrely a penknife at me, and was haring down the grassy slope, fiddling with the straps of his helmet as he went. ‘Weston,’ I yelled, ‘be careful!’
I threw myself to the ground, my fingers trembling as I tried to undo the buckles on my boots. I was failing miserably as I couldn’t stop my eyes from darting between a floundering, terrified Bertie, who was being swept along by the momentum of the water, and Weston. He flung his helmet to the ground and ran barefoot along the bank until he was level with the pup, the sheepdog running at his side. Then in a flash, he’d dived head first into the water and disappeared.
‘No, no, no, no. For God’s sake, stupid boots,’ I yelled, ripping my eyes from the water to focus on undoing them. I managed to get them off and was up and running down the bank faster than I’d ever run before. Weston had surfaced, but Bertie was nowhere in sight, then Weston took a deep breath and disappeared under the murky green water again. My heart was hammering against my ribs so fast, blood roaring in my ears so loudly, that I jumped in surprise when I realised a man had run up to me and grabbed the fretting sheepdog who was about to jump into the river as well.
‘What’s happened?’ he asked, taking in the state of me as I scanned the water with anguish all over my face.
‘My boyfriend’s gone in after his puppy. I don’t know what to do.’ My voice cracked as I stood there, feeling utterly helpless. Part of me wanted to jump in after them to help, but another part of me knew I wasn’t a strong enough swimmer to avoid being dragged under by the fast-moving currents in the middle.
‘There,’ the man yelled, pointing further down the river. Weston was on his back, Bertie safely cradled against his chest, and he was desperately fighting to get back to the riverbank one armed. ‘Here, take my lead off me. Keep Sasha from the water and I’ll go and help him.’
‘How?’ I asked, doing as I was told. He didn’t stop to answer me. Instead, he pulled out his phone and started running, so I tugged the lead to grab the sheepdog’s attention and soon we were running after his master, catching up to Weston, who was still struggling to make headway towards the bank.
Crowds were starting to gather, people were panicking, but no one was willing to risk their life to jump in and help a stranger. It was the hottest day of the year, people were out strolling with babies in shaded prams, dog walkers and cyclists were dodging each other up on the footpath, and couples were making out on the grass and benches or eating ice cream. I could smell cut grass and hot dogs from the vendor who’d set up his stall by one of the river bridges. It was supposed to be a fun day, the kind of summer’s day you’d look back on fondly. It wasn’t supposed to turn into this nightmare.
‘Hold on, don’t give up, help’s on the way,’ yelled my new friend. I caught Weston’s gaze as I drew level, but instead of the fear I’d expected to see in his eyes, I just saw grim determination. Years of Army training and a survival instinct had kicked in, and he was fighting the might of the Severn river as it tried to suck him back to the centre and sweep him away.
‘You promised you’d always come back,’ I yelled. ‘Don’t you dare let me down, Weston Argent. I’m going to hold you to that promise.’ He gave me a tight-lipped smile, his fingers desperately trying to steady a scared and wriggling Bertie on his chest. I felt my heart bloom with admiration. Greg would have been too scared to jump in and risk his life for a dog. He’d have let Bertie drown without a second thought, and I was in no doubt that he’d have done the same if it had been me in the water. But Weston … he hadn’t given his safety a second thought. That was a real man, a dependable man. The kind of man I saw myself being with for the long haul. Surely fate wouldn’t be so cruel to put him in my path, then take him from me so fast? ‘You keep fighting, you hear me?’ I called.
‘Help will be here soon, son I called the Shrewsbury Rowing Club, they’re out on the river, I passed them earlier as I was taking Sasha here for a walk. They’re spinning around.’
‘I see them, I see them,’ I cried, pointing up the river.
‘Thank God,’ sighed the man next to me. ‘I’m Ralph, by the way.’
‘Georgie.’ I offered him a weak smile and looked back up the river. I could hear the cox beating out a punishing rhythm, pushing the eight men in the boat to their absolute limits as they skimmed across the water’s surface towards us. People started cheering, the crowd moving along behind us as we approached one of the bridges. The park ended and to the left were houses bordering the river, which meant the natural grass ended and a manmade concrete and brick embankment began with a narrow tow path.
‘Here, here!’ Ralph started yelling, waving his arms to get the attention of the rowers, and soon the crowds joined the chorus, leaving them in no doubt where we were.
‘Weston, they’re nearly on you, just hold on a minute longer,’ I pleaded. He swallowed hard and nodded, his powerful bicep flexing as he struck out repeatedly with his right arm. His legs kicked desperately to try and get closer to the bank, but I could see he was already tiring and moving further away from it.
While the river looked pretty, with the weeping willows dipping their fingers into its depths and swans and ducks happily gliding along on it, it was treacherous and had claimed too many unsuspecting victims, even in the few years I’d lived here. I was panting and breathless, we were almost having to run to keep pace with him, the river was carrying them so fast now. The boat up ahead started to turn, manoeuvring into a sideways stance against the fast-flowing water. The rowers were doing their best to keep the nose of their boat as tight to the bank as they could, without risking them crashing and putting them all in jeopardy too, not to mention fighting against the push of the river on their side. For the first time since he dove in without a thought for his safety, I felt a spark of hope. He was heading straight for the side of the boat, and I could hear the sound of sirens filling the air behind me. But now we were out of the park, no vehicle could make it down here.
‘There’s a boat blocking your path up ahead,’ called Ralph, panting as hard as I was. ‘Brace yourself for impact.’
‘Oh God,’ I whispered. I’d seen it as his salvation, but what if he crashed into it, hurt himself, and lost his grip on Bertie? My legs turned to jelly, losing their forward momentum, and I had to grab the railings at my side to stay upright. I watched as they moved away from me, the sheepdog almost wrenching my arm out of its socket as she tried to catch up to Ralph, so I hooked her lead over the large brass ball on top of the railings as I watched, never more scared.
The cox was shouting orders down his megaphone, and some of the men pulled up their oars and readied themselves to catch Weston as he sped towards them. At the last moment, he flipped onto his front, gripping Bertie’s collar to hoist him up in the air. He braced his left arm to try and grab the side of the boat. I couldn’t watch. I was terrified something was going to go horribly wrong. I flung my hands over my face, the noise of shouting and yelling and heavy boots pounding the pavement passing by me. I tried to remember the breathing techniques to keep calm and failed miserably. I suddenly registered that I was sobbing, my tears feeling like acid eating away at my face as I waited for a sign that they were both ok. A loud cheer from the crowd had me peek between my fingers, but my vision was blurred by the misty water filling my eyes, and I had to wipe my face on my t-shirt, smudging my mascara all over it in the process.
By the time I looked back up, Bertie was safely in the arms of one of the crew and Weston was clinging to the side of the boat, with two of the other oarsmen tightly holding his wrists. Firefighters were lined up on the footpath, swinging a heavy rope out to the boat. I unhooked Sasha and started pushing my way closer, but was blocked by one of the firefighters with a serious face.
‘Let her through, it’s her boyfriend in the water,’ Ralph called from behind him. The man in uniform’s face softened as he moved aside for me and barked some orders that I didn’t even catch. I was too distracted by the relief flooding me as I saw Weston gripping the rope and being hauled up the side of the embankment, some of the firefighters reaching to grab him and hoist him over and down onto the towpath. He was immediately surrounded and smothered in blankets. The crew in the water brought the boat around and one of them lifted a shivering Bertie up for someone else to grab.
‘Thank you,’ I croaked, but my voice was so weak no one even heard me, and moments later they were pushing away from the side and moving back out into the middle of the water.
‘Come on, sweetheart, he’s safe and sound now, the pup too. Very lucky.’ I looked up and gave the firefighter a grateful, if shaky, smile. He put a blanket around me as I started to tremble, the shock of the last five minutes, which had felt like hours, catching up with me. It was ridiculous. It had been Weston in danger, not me. Ralph took Sasha back from me, then Bertie was handed to me, dwarfed by his emergency blanket, and I sobbed and laughed as he enthusiastically licked my face. I cradled him against my chest and kissed the top of his head, so happy to have him back. He smelled terrible, but seemed none the worse from his ordeal. I was going to have to get him straight into the dog bath as soon as we got home.
‘I’m fine, honestly. Just tired and wet,’ came Weston’s voice. I couldn’t see past the medics and firefighters surrounding him, but felt so reassured to hear his voice. ‘Thank you all so much, I’m sorry we put you all to so much trouble.’
‘It’s my fault. Sasha was off leash and probably got overexcited around your puppy and knocked him into the water. I feel just awful.’ Ralph flashed me an apologetic look and I shook my head.
‘I let go of Bertie’s lead when I fell over. It’s no one’s fault, it could have happened to anyone. Please don’t blame yourself. I’m just so grateful to you for helping. Is Weston ok?’
‘Come see for yourself, if you can bear the smell,’ Weston joked, as the crowd parted and he stood before me. His dark hair was plastered to his head and his white t-shirt clung to his body, showing off those rippling abs I’d so admired in Mexico. I found my strength and ran into his arms, not caring how cold and wet he was. He quickly captured me in his, careful not to crush Bertie, who was sandwiched between us. ‘I’ve never been more relieved to be physically fit than I was in that water,’ he sighed, kissing the top of my head.
‘I’m so glad you’re ok, both of you. I was so scared, Weston,’ I sobbed, my tears flowing freely again. At least this time they were tears of relief.
After Weston was cleared as fit to leave the scene, we walked back to the park, and the ambulance kindly gave us a lift back to Weston’s car, which was over by the local college. We didn’t even bother to ask them to stop so we could see if Weston’s helmet and our boots were still where we’d left them. They were material things that could be replaced. We discussed taking Ralph out for a “thank you” meal, having taken his phone number before we parted ways. Weston was going to ring the rowing club later to express his appreciation and offer a donation to the club for their part in the rescue. We thanked the medics for the lift, then Weston opened his car and quickly shut Bertie inside. He stood for a moment, his hands on the roof of his car, leaning forward slightly with his head bowed as he took a deep breath.
‘Weston, are you ok?’ I asked, touching his damp shoulder. His powerful shoulder blades and biceps were visible through his t-shirt, which clung to him like static.
‘It’s taken all of my strength to resist doing this until now, but screw it,’ he muttered.
‘To resist doing what?’
‘Kissing you like I need you to breathe,’ he growled as he spun around.
I gasped at the look of raw need in his eyes as he clasped my face between his hands and brought his lips crashing down onto mine. This wasn’t one of the tender and gentle kisses he’d given me up until this point. This was the kind of kiss I’d been dreaming of, craving, ever since that night in Mexico. Lost to the lust fuelling both of us, he walked me backwards, slamming me against the car as my fingers found their way up to his strong biceps, clutching them for support. His hips were magnetised to mine as his thumbs brushed my cheekbones and he took from me exactly what he needed. And I needed it, too. Barely pausing for breath, our tongues duelled in a fiery melding of mouths. I’d never been more certain of anyone’s need for me as I was in that moment, and I made sure he knew that the feeling was reciprocated.
His hands dropped to clutch my backside and he slid me up the side of the car onto his hips, my legs automatically wrapping around him. His one hand anchored the back of my neck as his other curled around my waist. My fingers moved up to tangle in the damp strands of his hair. I was floating, giddy with excitement and need. Somewhere in the frenzy of our passionate embrace, I heard him groan my name, and the strangest sensation started deep in my belly, as if it was full of heavy trainers that had been set on a high-speed spin cycle in a washing machine. Faster and faster it whirled, my heart replicating the heavy bouncing of rubber on metal, totally erratic and violent. We finally broke apart, panting for air as someone hollered “Get a room” in the distance.
‘Oh. My. God,’ I uttered between gasps for oxygen.
‘Yeah,’ Weston grunted, as his forehead dropped to mine and his lips gently brushed across mine again. ‘I needed that.’
‘Why now? Why did you … wait so long?’ I whispered, kissing him again.
‘You’ve been clear from the start that you didn’t want to be pressured into anything serious. I didn’t want to scare you off by coming on too strong, Georgie. I was waiting for a sign before I took things to the next level.’
‘And that sign was you almost drowning?’ I laughed, reaching up to sweep his hair back from his forehead, my eyes roving over his face as I tried to work out what had suddenly changed.
‘No. It was seeing how distraught you looked at the thought of losing me, at how you sobbed when you knew I was safe. I knew in that moment that I wasn’t in this alone anymore.’
‘Please, that had nothing to do with you. I was worried about poor Bertie,’ I teased.
‘Georgie Bassett,’ he laughed, dropping his hands to tickle my ribs until I was screaming and squirming against the car, making it shake. ‘Take that back!’
‘Stop, stop, please,’ I squealed as I writhed.
‘Tell me, tell me the truth,’ he demanded as he relented, then gently clutched my face, his eyes desperately searching mine, as if he was afraid that his confession would force me to run from him.
‘No, you’re not in this alone, Weston,’ I admitted, a shiver running through my body at the admission and the way his pupils flared and lips curled up into a satisfied smile.
‘Thank God,’ he uttered, stealing a kiss from me again before wrapping his arms around me and holding me tightly. He buried his face into my neck, laying a trail of soft kisses up it, and I did the same, hugging him as hard as I could.
‘Jesus, you stink, and you’re freezing cold,’ I laughed. ‘Please tell me that you’re not thinking of dashing off home tonight. You need a hot bath to clean up and warm up, while I clean your clothes and give Bertie a bath. I’d really … I don’t want … I think …’ I huffed out a breath, wondering if I was being too forward.
‘You think what, Georgie?’ he gently asked, tipping his head back to look at me. I dropped my gaze as my cheeks flushed.
‘I was so scared, Weston. I don’t think I want you to go home tonight. I’d feel better if you were close.’
‘I guess I could stay in the spare room if you want.’
‘I was thinking closer,’ I whispered, tracing the tip of my finger over his chest, right where his heart was beating steadily, unlike mine, which was still racing.
‘In your bed?’ he asked, his voice having taken on an even huskier tone. He clutched my chin and tipped my face up to his, dipping his head to meet my embarrassed gaze.
‘Yes,’ I said softly, feeling like a brazen hussy for the suggestion. His demanding kiss in response was all the clarification I needed that he was one hundred percent ok with my plan, which sent a thousand starlings to start fluttering and soaring inside my tummy.