Breaking (Fall or Break #2) by Barbara Elsborg Read Free Book Online Page A

something pushed him on. Once he reached the hard-packed sand the going became easier. Though it belatedly struck him that since the tide was coming in, he couldn’t risk going too far in case the sea moved faster than him when he struggled back. He swallowed hard at the thought of his clothed, dead body washing up and the conclusions people would draw. He might have thought about suicide when he was paralyzed but now he wasn’t, he wanted to live.
    Shit, it’s cold. The wind cut through his coat and made his ears tingle. He should have worn his gloves and hat. That surfer had to be freezing. As he approached the little black-and-brown dog, it came running up. It looked like a mix of long-haired dachshund and terrier with a bit of spaniel thrown in, or maybe none of those. It wagged its tail hard, barked and spun in a circle before dashing into the foam and running back out again to circle Conrad’s feet. Conrad looked for the surfer and couldn’t see him. He assumed he’d been knocked off and would clamber back on, but when he caught a glimpse of the surfboard, there was no head bobbing next to it.
    His heart thumped harder as he scoured the surface of the sea.
    “Shit.”
    The guy was there, but floating limply away from his board.
    “Hey, are you okay?” Conrad yelled.
    Of course he’s not, you fuckwit. He looked around in case the beach had been invaded by a platoon of fit lifeguards, but there was just him. He put his hand in his pocket for his phone and remembered where he’d left it. Damn. He shrugged out of his coat, tossed it back up the beach and walked into the sea on his crutches. Fuck it, it’s fucking freezing. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
    Conrad could barely stay upright against the force of the waves but he planted the crutches in the shifting sand and kept going. When it was too hard to walk, he let go of his supports and swam, relying on the power of his arms, fighting against the weight of his clothes and trainers, and the power of waves. Shit, it’s cold. What the fuck do you think you’re going to be able to do? He had no idea, only that he had to do something.
    When he had the breath for it, he yelled for help on the off chance someone of more use than him would hear, but he suspected he was this guy’s only hope. Conrad bobbed over a wave, reached out and gripped the surfer’s arm, and as another wave came, he twisted him so that his face was out of the water. Blood smudged his forehead until a wave washed it clean. To Conrad’s relief, he was still breathing. The board wasn’t far away so Conrad hauled him to it. He doubted he’d be able to get him on it but it would at least support the pair of them while he tried to get back to shore.
    That was the theory. Not so simple in practice although controlling an unconscious person was a damn sight easier than dealing with a panicking one. Though that assumed the rescuer was able bodied, and Conrad wasn’t. Bubbling foam was coming out of the guy’s mouth and his breathing was ragged and shallow. Exhausted, swamped with cold and pain, weighed down by worry he wouldn’t make it, Conrad wondered what the hell he’d been thinking. Instead of one dead surfer, both of them would drown.
    He spat out a mouthful of salt water. Not going to happen. Little by little, he maneuvered them through the waves toward the beach. The dog was going nuts, yipping and racing up and down. Conrad hadn’t even realized he’d reached the shallows until his knees hit the sand and he yelped.
    There was no way he could get to his feet. He crawled out of the sea, pushed forward by the waves, dragging the guy with him, little by little hauling him out of the water. Once they were clear, he tipped the surfer on his side and hooked his finger in his mouth to make sure nothing was obstructing his breathing before continuing to pull him up the beach.
    Once they were well away from the sea, Conrad collapsed onto his back, his chest heaving. Now what the fuck am I supposed to do?