Georgia lets out a little squeak and the closer I look, the more I see the moisture brimming in her pretty blue eyes.
And I don’t like that at all.
What the fuck did you do, Brody?
“It would be nice if we could stick to the schedule of meals,” Brody announces as he drops his plate into the sink, causing another obnoxious banging noise.
Is he seriously throwing a tantrum right now over dinner time?
Georgia turns slightly in her chair, meeting his gaze. “I’m really sorry. I know it was late by an hour… I didn’t?—”
“You should plan your time accordingly.” His tone is sharp enough that even Miles lets out a cough.
Georgia’s reaction is subtle, but I know what’s about to happen. I have enough sisters that I’ve watched it a million times. She claps her hand over her mouth and stifles a cry and swallows the urge. Carefully, she stands from her seat and then takes her own plate to the kitchen.
“I’ll keep that in mind moving forward,” she mutters, giving him a nod. “I’m sorry.”
“Thank you.” The words are anythingbutfull of gratitude.
With that, Georgia gets busy cleaning up, Brody disappears outside, and Miles slips out to the main deck to work on a new case of his.
I turn to Georgia. “Can I help you clean up tonight?”
She shakes her head, not looking up from washing dishes. “That’s okay. I’ve got it.”
“You sure? I don’t mind.” I don’t want to put too much pressure on her, but on the other hand, it’s killing me to see her on the verge of losing it. She’s stuck at sea with a bunch of guys and has zero support.
“I’m sure.” Her response is terse, and so I let it go, finishing my own dinner.
Once I’m done, I stand up and bring my plate over. She holds out a hand for it, avoiding my eyes by staring at my nose. Normally, I might make a joke about it. But tonight? No. Not with Georgia.
I don’t want to do anything to make it harder on her. I back away from her and then find a book on the shelf, carrying it back to the couch in the lounge. I think about going outside instead.
But I don’t want to leave her alone.
I stare at the pages of the nonfiction historical novel, not really reading it. Instead, I sit there as the minutes pass by, and Georgia just keeps cleaning. Finally, when she’s wiping down the table, the lounge door opens again.
And in comes Brody.
I shift on the couch, unsure if he even knows that I’m sitting here.
“I want to change the menu for tomorrow,” Brody’s voice is still sharp.
Georgia straightens, clinging to the dish towel like it might save her. “Of course, just let me know what you’d like.”
“I think you should take the day off, get yourself together, and then come back. I don’t want your emotions affecting your ability to be punctual.”
Wow, what a fucking asshole.
“They won’t…”
“They clearly have. We’ll have cereal in the morning, sandwiches for lunch, and then leftovers for dinner,” Brody’s voice is sharp. “Good night, Georgia.”
He storms out, not even catching my gaze as he passes. I watch him go, and as soon as the door slams, I turn back to Georgia. Her lower lip trembles, and then she suddenly drops the dish towel to the table, disappearing out to the front of the boat.
Oh shit.
I hear the sob echo behind her, and I’m on my feet before she can even manage to make it out there. “Georgia!” I call after her, sliding out to where she’s getting settled, her head against her hands.
