He ought to get them out of the water. Ought to dig deep and find the strength to drag her back or pick her up. There are probably a lot of things he ought to be doing right now, more sensible things, but the weight of simply getting started, of beginning the process of forcing her to move on, seems far too heavy to bear.

And so they're still sitting, the fight gone out of Rose but his limbs still wrapped fast around her, water lapping in around them as she rocks them in time with the waves.

He turns his head, nose and mouth pressing against the hot shell of her ear. "I'm not letting you go," he insists again in a furious whisper.