I nod and move to an empty part of the table. The wind is louder, and the sky is darker.
I’m cutting into my steak when he joins me after moving items to the side and putting a plate of roasted potatoes between us. I steal one and chew gratefully, then shove steak, eggs, and a piece of French toast in my mouth, respectively. I guess I am hungry—starving.
“Whoa! Slow down. You don’t want to choke,” he cautions.
“Sorry,” I say, around the hand covering my mouth. I accept the drink he pours for me. “Thank you.”
“I’m pretty hungry myself.” He smiles encouragingly. “Eat up.”
I imagine how I must look since I washed up on shore, practically naked and hungry. I’m not homeless or underprivileged, but I’m sure I appear that way with how I’m eating. I force myself to slow down.
“Take it as my compliment to the chef,” I joke to lighten the mood.
“You mean the heat up-er. I order pre-marinated steak and heat and serve items,” he admits with a smile.
“Either way, you made it happen. Thank you.”
We finish our food in silence. I move to the sandwich station while he checks and rotates the veggies.
“Okay.” I can see the suspense is killing him. “How did you get here?”
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly. “I was driving, lost control of my vehicle, and fell into the ocean. I was submerged underwater by the time I escaped my car. It was dark. The water took me; I’m not a strong swimmer. I decided not to fight it. Later, I kicked off my clothes to make impromptu floating devices. I was wearing jeans, so it was taking more energy than I wanted to make a knot. I had to tie them the best I could, then use my shirt to secure the knot…” I start when I remember something. “Do you have a cell or internet?”
Beau’s dark brows furrow with concern and questions. “There are no roads near the water for miles. Are you sure?”
I nod. I didn’t lose control of my car, but it did end up in the ocean. He doesn’t need to know all the details. I don’t know if he can read my mind or see any hints of deception on my face, but his gaze turns skeptical. I prepare myself for the barrage of questions. Luckily, his attention is pulled to the television, playing almost silently over my head. I follow his gaze and see the red ‘Breaking News’ alert.
I see them retrieving my banged-up car from the water and a picture of my face with ‘missing’ in red stamped across it.
Beau turns up the volume in time to hear the reporter announce that they haven’t recovered my body, and there aren’t any leads on my whereabouts; 8 p.m. was the last time anyone had heard from me, and they estimate that my car went into the ocean around midnight.
Was I lost in the ocean for hours? I shudder at the thought. Maybe my fear paralyzed my brain and froze time. I know my body was cold.
Beau turns and studies me for a moment. I can see the wheels turning in his head. Everything isn’t adding up to him, but the news does confirm that my car and I did go into the ocean. He saw me come out.
“You were in the water half-naked for at least two hours. You could have died. You would have if the tide was weaker and the water colder. Even still, your time was running out—”
“I know.”
I don’t tell him that I’m well versed in the dangers of water and how to survive them. I had to learn. It is the knowledge necessary for me to live. I both hate and appreciate that asshole’s predictability.
“We need to alert the authorities that you are alive.”
“No!” I protest far too fast. “Not yet, let the hurricane pass.”
Beau frowns at me. “I have to. It’s my duty—”
“Look, I don’t know what you do for a living, and I don’t want to put your career in jeopardy, but I must ask you to trust me on this one. Let the hurricane pass, drop me off within walking distance of the nearest safe place, and allow me to report that I’m alive. You do not want to be seen with me. All I’m asking is for you to allow me to check my email. I don’t remember my parent’s new number. I would like to let them, and no one else, know I’m fine. I don’t want them freaking out about the possible demise of their only child. Please.”
He clenches his jaw, not at all happy about my request.
“Are you on the run? Did you break some kind of law?”
“They would have led with that, don’t you think?”
I know I’m a stranger to him, but it doesn’t make his question hurt less. I’m in this mess only because I trusted the wrong person.
“Look. If It makes you uncomfortable, I’m sure I have time to get to one of the shelters—”
