The Beauty of Surrender by Eden Bradley Page A

beneath him everything was murky. Muddy.
    He kicked, swam through the water, so light and pure, the sunlight casting gold into the blue, his body carried along effortlessly.
    One more kick upward and he was almost at the surface, but somehow it grew farther and farther away.
    Small hitch of panic in his gut.
    Control .
    But he needed air. He couldn’t calm down. The panic rose and began to choke him, panic and the lack of air. His lungs were going to burst! And the surface was gone now; everything as murky as the bottom of the lake had been, and he didn’t know if he was going up or down, if he was moving at all.
    He stopped swimming, his lungs too empty to keep going. And he saw her.
    Nessie’s face, as sweet as it had ever been, that small bit of baby fat on her twelve-year-old features still. Her long, dark hair like a mermaid’s, like a halo around her head.
    Nessie!
    He wanted to yell for her to swim for the surface. Needed to. But he couldn’t speak, couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe .
    It was too late. She floated a few feet away, but even through the hazy water he could see there was no life in her pale, staring eyes.
    God damn it!
    Not again. I will not let it happen again .
    He kicked once more, hard, but he couldn’t reach her, couldn’t reach the surface. And the water was closing in on him, almost as though it were something solid. Drowning him. And he was helpless against it.
    Helpless.
    God damn it!
    He kicked, his leg tangling in the blankets, and came up gasping. His bedroom was dark around him, the pale light of the moon coming through the fog outside his windows, washing the room in silver and smoke. His heart was thundering, his pulse wild.
    Only a dream. That damn dream again .
    He ran both hands over his head, fisting his fingers in his hair and pulling tight.
    It’s fine. Everything is fine .
    But it wasn’t. When was the last time he’d had that dream? Had to have been a year or more.
    He knew what had sparked it: his conversation with Ava earlier tonight. He’d come too close to talking about it. He’d allowed himself to think about it.
    Not it. Her. Nessie . His baby sister.
    His chest was still so damn tight he was having almost as much difficulty breathing as he’d had in the dream.
    He got up, went to stand naked at the window, touched his hand to the cold glass, needing it to center him.
    Was opening up to Ava a mistake? He always held certain things back when he was getting to know the women he playedwith. He was well aware of that. Sure, he shared about his work, his hobbies, his desires, certainly. But nothing about his past. Nothing about his pain. Why the hell this urge to tell her … everything?
    He’d just met the girl.
    It didn’t feel like that.
    If he hadn’t already said he’d see Ava tomorrow he’d take a few days to get his footing again. But no, that was bullshit. He couldn’t wait to see her.
    He looked at the glowing numbers of the clock on his night-stand. Five in the morning.
    There would be no more sleep for him tonight. He was too worked up. Ava. Nessie.
    He went to his dresser, pulled out a pair of cotton pajama pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt, slipped the soft fabric over his body. He’d do some work, make use of the time.
    He would not think about this anymore. Plenty of time to deal with it later, when he saw her.
    A small clenching sensation in his chest, not entirely unpleasant.
    Is this what infatuation felt like? It had been so long, he couldn’t seem to remember. But it was better to think of Ava than to think of Nessie. To remember the dream, to remember what had happened all those years ago.
    No, don’t go there. Don’t even think of telling her about it .
    He’d read somewhere that infatuation was chemically similar in the human brain to going mad. He was beginning to believe that. And it was totally unacceptable to a man like him.
    If only he knew what the hell to do about it.
    A VA WAS FOREVER watching the clock when it came to Desmond.