He hauled Jasper out of the pool, water streaming off them both. The boy coughed and curled inward, gasping.
Elliot wrapped a towel around him, barely noticing his own soaked clothes.
He looked up at Sabrina.
She opened her mouth—maybe to charm, maybe to deflect.
He didn’t give her the chance.
He stepped forward. His free hand shot out.
His fingers hit her shoulders.
Surprise flashed across her flawless face.
Then she tipped backward.
The splash when she hit the water was enormous.
Elliot didn’t wait to see her resurface.
“Daddy’s here,” he whispered into Jasper’s wet hair. “You’re safe. I’ve got you.”
Jasper didn’t speak. He hadn’t said a word in two years—not since the night his mother’s body was carried out on a stretcher, neck at an impossible angle.
But his eyes met his father’s—full of fear.
And something else.
Recognition.
Like he’d expected this.
Not the rescue.
The shove.
Elliot’s stomach twisted.
He carried his son across the lawn, away from the pool, away from the woman he’d planned to marry. Jasper trembled against him. Elliot’s own hands shook.
He did not look back.