In this, the librarian couldn't defy the laws of physics.
They both went over, the ocean a second or two away. But it took a very long time to fall when you'd really rather not.
Enough time for Griffin to realize that Jane wouldn't know to swim away from the rocks to keep from being bashed against them.
Enough time for that thought to plow with the power of an ice-breaking ship through his frozen heart.
Enough time for him to be certain he wouldn't survive one more loss. That he wouldn't survive without her in his life.
Dark, cold water closed over him like a thick shroud. It tried tearing Jane from his grasp, but knowing what was at stake, he hung on to her, kicking powerfully with his legs to take them both away from the dangerous crags. To his surprise, she was kicking too, doing her share, but the unexpected dousing, fully clothed, made it a heavy slog.
For every movement forward, the water washed them back. He'd lost his flip-flops, and he felt the bite of rock on his sole as he pushed off to propel Jane away from danger. "Let...go!" she gasped out, then coughed. "Let. Me. Go!"
Let go? He couldn't let go. He'd never let go.
But then she wrenched free of him, and without the hamper of a second body, she started stroking away. Heart pounding in his ears, he followed behind, matching his arm pulls to hers. It wasn't easy getting away from the surf breaking against the bluff. It still fought to wash them back, just as they fought to break from it. He was breathing hard, anxiety taking its toll, and his panic didn't lessen, even when he realized the shoreline was a straight shot ahead.
People drowned in bathtubs. In puddles. In their own blood.
Those thoughts were still in his mind as their bellies hit sand. They combat crawled and coughed their way onto the beach. Safe.
Lying on the sand beside her, he tried coping with the aftermath of horror and the sharp spike of survival euphoria. And the new sudden yet certain understanding that his life was about to take a drastic turn.
He glanced over when he finally caught his breath. "We have to talk."
Then he jerked upright and put his hand on her shoulder. "Jane!" She was sodden and cold as a corpse, her eyes open and staring straight at the sky. Jesus, was she dead? "Jane."
"I'm right here," she said, sounding slow and drunk. One hand flopped on the sand like a fish. "Right. Here."
"Oh, thank God." He pulled her into his lap, curled his chilled and wet body over her chilled and wet body. Pressing his cheek to hers, he rocked them a little. He couldn't lose her now.
His arms tightened. "I was terrified, damn you," he said, his voice rough. "Beyond terrified. And if anything had happened to you, I would have killed you!"
She reached up to pat his dripping hair as she would Private. "Calm down."
"I am calm. I'm always calm!"
Her hand gave him another pat. "No, you're not. You throw things - plates, fists, fits. I'm not sure if you're aware, but those aren't really the actions of a ninety-nine-percent no-feelings guy." She allowed that a minute to sink in. "Just saying."
"Jane, I..." But a shiver racked her small frame, and new alarm rushed through him. "We have to get you warm." He picked them both up off the sand and half carried, half led her to Beach House No. 9. Private greeted them with a worried whine and stealthy licks at the salt water running off their bodies.
Griffin escorted her to the guest bath when she insisted on privacy, then hit his own shower. Standing under the spray, his restless mind replayed the event: his alarm upon seeing her on the cliff, his panic when she started to fall, that absolute certainty that he couldn't go on without her.
She'd come to mean so much. And yes, she was right again, damn her. He wasn't a ninety-nine-percent no-feelings guy.
Even as anxiety beat its vulture wings in his belly at the idea, he could no longer hide from the truth. His heart was no longer untouchable. Hell, it was no longer his own. He hadn't wanted this, had never wanted this, but the battle was lost.
Dry and dressed again, he stood outside the bathroom where Jane was cleaning up, overwhelmed by the need to see her and touch her. Each moment that passed ratcheted his tension higher.