I continue to flail about until my hand bumps something hard in the water.
I grab at it, my numb fingers grasping at something fleshy.
Mila.
The down-filled coat is dragging her down and she can’t kick to the surface. She seems to be struggling to take it off.
I pull her with me and we break through the water. I shove her hair away from her face. She sucks in air and claws at me out of instinct, trying to get out of the water.
“Calm down,” I tell her quickly, kicking us toward the boat. “Calm down or you’ll drown us both.”
I shove her up and over the side of the boat, and then pull myself up after her. We both collapse into a heap. She’s in a pool of icy water on the floor of the boat, her teeth chattering and her lips blue.
“What the hell were you thinking?” I snap at her. “Are you insane? Why weren’t you holding on? ”
I strip off the heavy full-length parka because it is soaked and then I look around the boat to see if there is anything to wrap her in, but there isn’t.
“Fuck,” I mutter. “I don’t have anything to keep you warm.” Her wet hair is standing up in clumps and dangling down her back and I rub at her arms. “We’ve got to get back to shore. Stay over here next to the edge.”
She clings to the side, under the lip where she is partially protected from the wind.
“I’m s-s-sorry,” she chatters. “I should have held on t-t-tighter. But y-y-you shouldn’t have been d-d-driving so fast.”
“I know,” I tell her limply. “I’m sorry, Mila. It was my fault. We’ll just get to shore and get you dried off.”
I start the boat up and turn it toward shore, going as fast as I can. The wind cuts through my wet shirt and no lie, icicles form on the hem. By the time I pull into my slip, my fingers are purple and I’m shivering almost uncontrollably.
I’m no sooner docked than I am helping Mila out of the boat with numb fingers. She’s stumbling so much that I can tell her limbs are numb, too. So I just scoop her up, figuring I can carry her faster than she can walk.
“I c-c-can w-w-walk,” she chatters. I shake my head.
“I can walk faster.”
Her fingers gripping my shoulders are like ice and I shake my head again.
“You’re probably going to get pneumonia,” I tell her as I unlock the car and settle her into the seat. For the first time, I wish my car was new instead of a classic. A new car would have seat warmers.
I jam the key into the ignition with frigid, shaking fingers and we make it to my house in just a few minutes. My guilt makes me drive faster on the ice than I normally would have.
The car is barely in the driveway before I hit the button for the garage so that I don’t have to fumble with the front-door lock. I am out of the car and to her side within seconds, pulling her out and carrying her through the garage and into the house.
“Your lips are still blue,” I tell her. “We’ve got to get you in a hot shower.”
“You need one t-t-too,” she tells me, her chin shaking. I can’t decide if she is just freezing or if she’s in some sort of shock.
I don’t put her down. I just carry her straight upstairs, to my bathroom. I set her down on the toilet and turn the water on, turning back to help her peel off her icy clothes. I can still barely feel my fingers. They are so cold that they almost feel hot against her frozen skin.
“Mila, I’m so sorry. I lost my temper and I saw red and I shouldn’t have been driving like that. I’m sorry.”
She nods. “I know. It’s okay. W-w-we were mad. It’s d-d-done now. It’s okay.”
I pull off her shirt without another word, then help her unclasp her bra. She’s not an invalid, but I know how difficult it is to move my fingers, as frozen as they are, so I know hers are the same. I pull her to her feet and tug her wet jeans off, then her underwear, then point her toward the shower.
“Get in,” I instruct her, as I peel off my own clothes and step into the steam behind her. She’s under the water now, holding her hair back as the hot water breathes warmth back into her bones.
“Oh my god,” she breathes. “This feels so good. It hurts, too, but Oh. My. God.”
Her eyes are closed, but color is returning to her lips. I breathe a sigh of relief and slip up next to her, under the nozzle to her left. She’s right. The hot water is more amazing than it’s ever seemed before.
“Holy shit, that lake was cold,” I mutter as the water cascades over me. Feeling returns to my toes in a thousand painful needles. “Fuck, my toes hurt.”
Mila moans in agreement next to me and honestly, we just stand under the water for another ten minutes, with our eyes closed and without speaking, just enjoying the warmth. When the door fogs over and I am no longer shivering, I turn to Mila.
She is na**d and wet and gorgeous, but I don’t care at the moment. All I care about is one thing.
“You thought I was going to hit you,” I say simply. She looks guilty as she turns to me, her skin a healthy pink now.
“No,” she protests quietly. “It was just a reflex. I just reacted.”
“So you didn’t think I was going to hit you?” I raise an eyebrow. “Because you flinched.” She drops her head.
“I don’t know what I thought.”
I suck in a breath at her honesty and am deflated at the same time. Reaching out, I tilt her chin up with my fingers.
“I don’t care how mad I am, I will never hit you. Do you understand?” I stare her in the eye. “Not ever.”
She swallows and looks at me and her eyes are so wide and green. “I’m sorry,” she tells me. “I don’t know why I would think that.”
And there is something in her eyes that gives me pause.
“Did your dad hit your mom?”
The question hangs between us and she stares at me. And then she nods slowly.
“Not often. But sometimes. I saw it a few times. He slapped her, she slapped him. They had a very passionate relationship.”
“Holy shit,” I mutter in shock, before I pull her to me. “Mila, even one time is too many. I will never hit you. I need you to believe that.”