I fire up the engine.
She opens her guidebook like it’s the most riveting text she’s ever read, but I see her fingers worrying the corner of the page, flipping it over and back again.
“There’s a seal colony about ten minutes northeast,” I say, trying to sound normal, but the grit in my voice gives me away. “You’ll want your camera ready.”
I keep my eyes on the water. Nowhere else.
Fuck.Maybe I’m the one getting carried away with this whole wildlife tour.
Ten minutes later, I throttle back as we approach the rocky outcrop where the seals hang out. There’s already another boat there, a tour vessel packed with about twenty passengers, all crowding to one side with cameras and phones raised.
The tour guide’s voice carries across the water through a megaphone: “If we get a little closer, you might see them dive. Sometimes they’ll perform for us if we’re lucky.”
Georgie winces as the boat edges closer to the rocks, engines rumbling. The seals are getting agitated, some slipping into the water.
“Fucking idiot,” I mutter under my breath, watching the tour boat push closer. Most of the operators on the island know better than this. This bastard’s giving us all a bad name.
“Look how desperate they are to get the wildlife to perform for them,” she says quietly, lowering her binoculars. “They don’t want to observe the seals being seals—they want the seals to be entertaining. It’s like... we’ve forgotten that some things aren’t meant to be for us.”
My jaw clenches. “People want nature neat and convenient. On demand. Doesn’t work that way.”
“Right? But the whole point is that it’s not ours to control.” She keeps her voice low, like she doesn’t want to disturb anything. “The seals don’t owe us a show. They’re just trying to exist.”
The tour boat revs its engine again, and more seals abandon the rocks.
I keep our distance, letting us drift in the quiet water. After a few minutes, some of the seals return, cautious but settling back into their natural rhythm.
“There,” Georgie breathes, raising her binoculars again. “That’s what they actually look like when they’re just being themselves.” Her voice drops. “It’s funny how much better everything works when you give it space to be what it actually is, instead of what you think it should be.”
She turns that sweet smile on me, like butter wouldn’t melt, but whether she’s doing it deliberately or not, she’s circling back to our dinner conversation, the one about loud voices and quiet spaces. I’m starting to realize she has this way of dropping these quiet observations that dig in and won’t let go.
The implication hangs between us: I’m no better than that bastard tour guide.
I cut the engine with a sharp twist. “Here’s good for swimming.”
Her eyes go wide as she peers over the side, where the water darkens in patches. “We can swim here? It’s safe?”
“There’s nothing in these waters that’ll take a bite out of you. You bring your gear?”
“Yeah.” She hesitates, biting her bottom lip. “Are you… coming in too?”
I hadn’t planned on it. I was going to stay on the boat, fully clothed, keeping a respectable distance while she splashed about. I know I can dive in at a second’s notice if anything goes wrong.
But then she glances between me and the water, weighing whether she’s brave enough to do it alone.
“Sure.”
“You don’t have to, really. I don’t want to monopolize your whole day—”
I’m already stripping off my shirt and tossing it on the bench. “We’re getting in.”
“Okay,” she says softly. “I’ll just… change then.”
The sun’s got a bite to it today. Used to be you needed three layers in a Skye summer. Now it’s like the Mediterranean.
I take a long pull from my water bottle, telling myself I’ve done a good job so far. Shown Jake’s sister the sights, kept her safe—responsible big-brother-by-proxy boxes ticked.
The stairs creak as she makes her way up to deck.
