Elliot lunged, closing the distance in three powerful strokes. He grabbed his son around the waist, fingers slipping once on slick skin before locking around the boy’s ribs.
Jasper’s body jerked—tiny, panicked movements. Bubbles fled his mouth in a frantic stream as Elliot turned them both and drove upward.
They broke the surface with a gasp that ripped at their chests.
“Got you,” Elliot rasped, tucking Jasper against him and reaching for the pool’s edge.
The boy clung with his good hand in a death grip, nails digging into Elliot’s shoulder. His casted arm flailed before Elliot pinned it gently.
“It’s all right,” he said, pushing them toward the steps. “I’ve got you, buddy. Breathe. Just breathe.”
He could feel Jasper’s heart pounding like a trapped bird.
He could feel his own heart pounding even harder.
He could also feel Sabrina’s eyes on him.
When he turned, lungs burning, she stood exactly where he’d seen her—at the pool’s edge, arms folded.
Not reaching for a towel.
Not calling for help.
Not saying Jasper’s name.
Just staring.
No fear.
No remorse.
Only a tight, irritated line across her mouth—like Jasper had inconvenienced her.
Something in Elliot snapped.