Until We Meet Again(83)

She nods in agreement and I watch her run back to the party,

filled with a sudden rush of hope.

“What did you do to me?” Ned roars. He splashes water on

his face, but the salt probably only heightens the sting.

Lawrence is completely out, but I can feel a heartbeat. He’s

not dead. He’s not going to die. We’re going to beat this.

I circle my arms around his chest, but he’s heavier than I

expected. Gritting my teeth, I begin to drag him to the bushes.

If I can just get to the bushes…

“Girl!” Ned screams. “Where are you?”

I pull Lawrence another half inch. Why is he so heavy?

“I may not be able to see you, but that doesn’t mean I can’t

snap your neck.”

I have to stay strong. Come on, come on. Move, Lawrence.

Ned staggers toward me. “Where are you, you filthy little slut?”

I can’t let myself entertain what will happen if Ned gets his

vision back before Fay returns. Keep pulling, Cass. Pull like

your life depends on it.

Lawrence’s eyelids flutter. Gasping for air, he jolts his head up

and looks at me.

“Cassandra!”

Ned staggers in our direction. “Run, Lawrence!” I pull at his

torso. He groans with pain as he rises to his hands and knees.

We’re so close to the bushes.

But not close enough.

“There you are,” Ned barks. “I’m going to enjoy squeezing

the life from your throat.”

He grabs for me. I scream, and his hand closes around my

wrist.

“Ned!” Lawrence shouts, his voice strained as he struggles to

crawl toward us. But Ned’s massive hand circles my throat.

I scratch at his fingers with my free hand, but he doesn’t even

flinch. His upper lip curls with rage, and his vice grip tightens,

squeezing off my windpipe.

The bushes suddenly explode with people. A cluster of men

bursts onto the beach, their faces bright with alarm.

“Hey!” One of them bellows, seeing Ned and me. “Let her go!”

“She wasn’t kidding,” another one yells. “He’s snapped!”

The crowd doesn’t give Ned a chance to comply. They rush

him, tackling him to the ground. I fall to my knees, gasping.

More people from the party come out onto the beach, craning their necks to see. Fay emerges from the bushes. Her gaze

goes to Lawrence, then to me. My heart’s still pounding and

my breath heavy, but I nod. She nods back.

There’s a commotion on the beach. The group of men drag Ned

back toward the house. Others shout for the police to be called.

People are talking loudly, explaining what happened to newcomers,

expressing their shock and dismay at such a thing happening.

Others rush to Lawrence and me.

“Are you all right?”

“Can you move?”

“Can you see how many fingers I’m holding up?”

Lawrence is sitting up, though he still seems disoriented. In

spite of all the chaos around him, he keeps his eyes fixed on

mine. I squeeze his hand.

“You did it, Cassandra,” he whispers. “You saved me.”

The realization sinks in. It’s over. It’s really over. Inexpressible

relief mixes with the residual adrenaline and fear, and I can’t

stop the tears spilling from my eyes.

“We did it,” I say, gripping his hand. I need to feel the flesh

and pulse of him. Proof that he’s alive. That he’s here. That

we’re really together.

“We need to get you a doctor,” a woman says, coming to

Lawrence’s side. “You look pretty beaten up.”

“I’ll be okay.”

A young man reaches for Lawrence’s shoulders. “I’ll help get

you up. We got you, Lonnie.”

But Lawrence holds out a hand. “No, Charles. Please…I

want to stay here for a moment. I’ll come, but I need a minute.

A minute alone with Cassandra.”

The young man—Charles, I guess, is his name—glances at

the woman, then at me. When no one moves, Fay comes over.

“It’s all right,” she announces. “Lon just needs to get his

strength back. He’s overwhelmed with all these people. Come

on, everyone. Let’s give him some space.”

The lingering crowd seems reluctant. Fay sets her hand on

Charles’s shoulder. “Okay, everybody. Let’s go.”

The people shuffle away, glancing back at us with curious

looks. Fay ushers them along. Just before she reaches the path,

she glances over her shoulder too. I feel a stab of guilt. She

loved Lawrence, that much I can see.

“Thank you,” I say.

Fay manages a small smile, which fades as quickly as it came.

And then she vanishes into the bushes.

Lawrence’s hand comes to my cheek. His gaze is brimming

with love. My heart bursts at the sight of it. I fall against his