If this boat never makes it back to shore, Wren will never know I love her. I’ll never get to say the words to her.
I’ve never been especially careful with my life. Not careless, aside from that dark period right after Skylar was suddenly gone, but not careful either.
This wasn’t careless. It was supposed to be a short trip. I didn’t even mention it to Dusty because Jerry King offered to pay me five hundreddollars under the table for checking the steering, which I’m probably not supposed to accept as a marina employee.
The gray clouds overhead split open, dumping a deluge of water on me and on Wade and on the sea. Salty wind whips, and there’s too much slack in the sail. The wind is shifting direction again.
“Cap.” There’s true panic in Wade’s voice now.
He’s one of my oldest friends, and he takes almost nothing seriously. He took a job at the marina because Gus and I did, and we do most things together, not because he had much of an interest in anything nautical. If we don’t make it through this … it’ll be entirely my fault.
“You should head in the cabin,” I say. “Make sure everything’s secured.”
“There’s a radio in there, right? I should call for help?”
I blow out a breath. “It wasn’t working.”
“What? What do you mean, it’s not working?”
“I mean, I should have checked it before we left, but I didn’t, and I tried to turn it on when I grabbed the life jackets. Let me know if you get it working. Channel 16 is for emergencies.”
“So, this is an emergency now?”
Another huge wave hits. I need to heave to, or we’re going to capsize.
“What do you think?” I shout, shoving my hair back so I can try to see the helm clearly.
“I think I should have switched to caddying like Ricky did,” Wade calls. “No one ever dies golfing.”
“We’re not going to die,” I yell back before he disappears below deck, relieved he said it aloud so I had a chance to deny it. “Probably,” I add under my breath as I initiate a slow tack.
Once I’ve locked the tiller, I head into the cabin to check on Wade.He’s sitting on the bottom berth, tossing a deck of cards between his hands.
I glance at the radio. “No luck?”
“Nope.”
“It’s not getting any worse,” I say. “We just need to sit tight for a little bit.”
Wade nods, and I appreciate him at least acting like I know that for certain.
He holds up the deck. “Wanna play? I could use a distraction, and old man King doesn’t stock this ship with any liquid courage. I already checked.”
I exhale. “Yeah, sure.”
I could use a distraction too.
35
Iknock hesitantly on the shut door.
“Come in.”
I turn the handle carefully, checking my phone one final time before entering the small office. I’ve never been inside the marina building before.
Dusty, the manager, leans back in his swivel chair. It creaks, and that’s the only sound until he says, “Hello. What can I help you with?”
“I’m Wren,” I tell him. “One of the waitresses.”
