Twisted Love (Twisted, #1)(82)

I kicked off my boots and shrugged off my clothes until I had on only my swimsuit.

The smell of chlorine didn’t nauseate me as much as it used to. I’d gotten used to it after all my swim lessons with Al—after all my swim lessons. Still, my skin prickled with unease at the undulations in the pale turquoise water, which seemed to stretch forever in its Olympic-sized concrete container.

I hadn’t had a swim lesson in months. I thought I remembered the basics, but what if I didn’t?

My chest tightened, and it took more effort than it should’ve to draw enough oxygen into my lungs.

It was worse when Al—when I was alone. If I drowned, no one would find me until later. There’d be no one to save me.

But that was the point of this exercise, wasn’t it? To do this alone.

Breathe, Ava. You won’t drown. You know how to swim.

I opened my eyes and took a few shaky steps toward the edge of the pool. It seemed bottomless, even though the markers indicated it was eight feet deep at its deepest.

Before I lost my nerve, I stepped in, trying not to flinch at the sensation of cold water lapping at my ankles. My knees. My thighs. My chest. My shoulders.

Okay. This wasn’t so bad. I’d been in a pool dozens of times before. I could do this.

Not alone, a taunting voice in my head sang. What makes you think you can do this alone?

“Shut. Up,” I gritted out, my voice echoing in the empty space.

I held my breath and, after saying a quick prayer, ducked my head beneath the water. I fought the immediate urge to panic. You’re fine, you’re fine. I was still in the shallow end of the pool, and I could lift my head at any time.

I closed my eyes, the events of the past six months flashing through my mind.

Josh announcing he was leaving for Central America. Me getting stranded in a rainstorm in the middle of nowhere. Alex—there, I said his full name—picking me up. Alex moving in next door. Alex—

My head broke above the water, and I gasped for air. I allowed myself a minute break before I dove again.

Alex’s birthday. Our first kiss. Our weekend at the hotel. Thanksgiving. My father. My kidnapping.

Sweet, trusting Ava, so eager to fix broken things.

Was any of it real?

Again and again. Head in, head out. It was the first time I’d allowed myself to dwell on Alex and our time together since Philadelphia. Razor blades pierced my chest at the memory of his voice, his eyes, his touch…but I was still here. I was alive. And, for once, the water didn’t seem like an enemy. It seemed like a friend, swallowing my tears and cleansing me of the past.

I couldn’t change what happened to me or control what other people did, but I could control what I did. I could shape the future I wanted to have.

When the restless energy became too much, I stopped holding my breath underwater and started swimming. I wouldn’t win an Olympic medal anytime soon, but I could move my body from one point to the other in the pool, which was more than I could say for myself this time last year.

All my life, people had coddled me. Josh. My friends. Alex. Or at least, he’d pretended to care about me. I’d let them, because it was easier to lean on others than myself. I’d thought myself free because I didn’t have a physical cage when in fact I’d been trapped by my own mind, by the fears that haunted my days and the nightmares that haunted my nights. I stuck with the safe choices because I thought I wasn’t strong enough for anything else.

But I’d survived not one, not two, but three near-death experiences. I’d had my heart broken and smashed, but I was still breathing. I’d lived with my nightmares almost my whole life and still found the courage to dream.

I swam until my limbs ached.

After that, I stayed in the pool for a while longer, reveling in my accomplishment. Me, swimming alone, for—I snuck a peek at the clock—an hour without a panic attack. More than an hour.

I tilted my head up, my first real smile in months spreading across my face. It was small, but it was there.

Baby steps.

Above me, the storm had abated, the angry gray clouds giving way to blue skies. And through the domed glass, I saw, quite clearly, the pale glimmers of a rainbow.





40





Alex





TWO AND A HALF MONTHS LATER

“You look like shit.” Ralph sank into the chair opposite mine and appraised me with sharp eyes. “Haven’t ‘cha heard of a skincare routine?”

I didn’t look up from the screen. “Carolina!”

The door to my office opened, and my assistant poked her head in. “Yes, Mr. Volkov?”

“How the fuck did he get in here?” I gestured at Ralph.

“He’s on your approved list of visitors who don’t need appointments.”

“Remove him from the list.”

“Yes, sir.” Carolina hesitated. “Do you—”

“You can leave.”

She fled without a second thought. I didn’t blame her. I’d been in a foul mood for months, and she’d learned it was best to stay out of sight.

Ralph arched his eyebrows. “Someone’s in a bad mood.”

“Don’t you have a business to run?” I clicked out of the spreadsheet I’d been examining and leaned back, irritation coiling in my stomach. I didn’t have time for bullshit today. I barely had time for lunch.