Polished by Alyssa Turner Page A

won’t lie to you; this is going to hurt. And we won’t be able to give you anything for the pain until we have you out of the water.”
    “Thanks for breaking it to me easy,” Spencer replied, managing the right amount of saltiness in his tone to mask the terror swelling deep down.
    The rescuer gave him a nod. “You’re going to be all right. They’ll get you all patched up at the ER and you’ll be good as new. But first we have to get you out of here.” He showed him the brace, which consisted of two plastic and foam wedges and several straps. “Are you ready?”
    “As I’ll ever be.” He bit down on his cheek, a trick he’d learned from years of pushing past his limits on the mountain. The mountain he could handle. Hell, even pain could be managed. But for Spencer, being engulfed in water was a fear rooted in the wilderness of self-doubt. He understood it, he could even rationalize it, but neither made it any less frightening.
    Fuck that shit. He could do this.
    The rescuer placed a regulator in Spencer’s hands and showed him how to use it. Then it was time for the brace. He nodded rapidly, hoping they’d hurry up. A simple touch to his leg made him scream through the regulator clenched in his teeth, but they worked fast and had him in the water before his head had stopped spinning.
    He slammed his eyes shut tight counting back from fifty. Why fifty? He didn’t know, but it helped him think of something other than being underwater again, no matter the strong swimmers pulling him through it.
    As soon as he broke the surface, he saw her. She was bent over the hole with her fingers pressed together in front of her mouth like a little girl saying her bedtime prayers. Rory was so beautiful in that moment, she took his breath away, and for a second there was nothing else.
    His hand floated toward her. “Babe…”
    “Oh, God,” Rory croaked. She caught his fingers in hers for a fleeting few seconds before the paramedics took over.
    “I’m riding in the ambulance,” he heard her say to one of them, matter-of-factly. He recognized that tone. There was no arguing with it. She pressed a kiss to his lips just before they loaded him in. “I love you. I was so scared.”
    “You?” Spencer managed a ragged chuckle. “You know how much I dig swimming.”
    “I’m sorry I didn’t come sooner…” Rory’s voice cracked and the sound of the whimper she swallowed made Spencer want to hold her tight to him and not let go until she was smiling again.
    “Shhhh…” he soothed. “I’ll get this ankle patched up and we’ll go home and get in bed and stay there for as long as it takes to forget this whole nightmare.” Suddenly there was a question on his lips. “Where’s Jack?”
    Rory straightened and turned to the chaos behind her. There were lots of voices; commands flying from no-nonsense first responders and the pushy press rankling them for access to a grimacing Jack Rothman.
    Spencer turned to one of the paramedics as he prepped the stretcher for loading. “Wait,” he said to the balding man in navy blue crouching next to him. “Can you go talk to your buddies over there and get my friend out of here already?” He gestured in Jack’s direction. “The vultures are circling.”
    The paramedic paused for a moment, sizing up Spencer with a who-the-hell-do-you-think-you-are scowl on his face, New York style. Rory flashed a thoughtful gaze at Spencer and then at Jack. She tapped the paramedic on the shoulder and crouched next to him, placing herself at eye level.
    “Listen, all we’re asking is that you help out with…”
    “Jack,” Spencer reminded her.
    “Yes, Jack. Help him get off to the hospital. My boyfriend seems to want that. They went through hell down there.”
    The bald head nodded and he stood up. “Sure, we can get him shuttled off first, ma’am. Not a problem.”
    Rory smiled at Spencer, her eyes soft with concern. “Great,” she said to the paramedic. “And then you’ll come