He freed his hands from between his thighs and scrubbed them down his face before turning to me, his expression more serious than I’d ever seen it, without amusement or annoyance. “Nothing wrong with taking your time to be sure. Family is... complicated.”
I nodded, then laughed when I found myself blinking back tears again. For months I’d wrestled over what I should do. From the outside, I’m sure the right choice seemed obvious. Butcomplicatedwas exactly the right word. “I don’t normally cry this much,” I said, and pushed the whiskey bottle over to him. “Think I can at least win gold for the most fucked-up family event?”
“You mean between the two of us?” Ollie said.
I shrugged, too drunk and emotional to know what I’d meant. It was just a joke. But Ollie was quiet for a moment.
“Nah,” he said. “I’ve got you beat.”
Again, I waited for him to explain, but he didn’t.
“Did you see the floor routine I did to that instrumental version of ‘Low’ by Flo Rida?” I said to break the silence.
Ollie smiled. “Yeah, I did.”
“Dad about killed me for that. I told him I wouldn’t compete at all if he didn’t let me. That was my defiant phase.”
“Which you never grew out of, obviously,” he teased. “You were, what, thirteen?”
“Fourteen. Floor was my favorite event. It was the only one where I could really interact with the crowd, you know? Everything else you had to have tunnel vision for, but floor”—I sighed, smiling at the memory of how it felt to be out there—“it was just... pure fun. The music, the dance elements, song choice. There’s nothing like getting out there and performing, knowing the crowd is feeding off your energy and you’re feeding off theirs.”
“Which of your floor routines was your favorite?”
“ ‘Feel Good Inc.,’ ” I said. “I wanted to put this blue streak in my hair, but I would’ve gotten docked for it.”
He laughed. “So you were a weirdo back then too, huh?”
I leaned my head against the side of the hot tub and closed my eyes. “Yup.”
“Good.”
I turned my face toward him. “What about you? Were you a weird kid?” I couldn’t imagine Ollie as anything other than the man sitting beside me now. It was easy to pretend the day I met him was the first day of his life, that he didn’t have a past at all.
“Dunno,” Ollie said. “Probably.”
Once again, I waited for an explanation that didn’t come. The silence between us stretched on, this time broken by my stomach growling.
“Ugh,” I groaned. “Where are those snacks you promised? I’d cut off my right pinky toe for some pizza rolls.”
Ollie rubbed his hands together. “You’re in luck. That’s what I was planning to make. Only took me a fecking month to perfect the recipe.”
If I hadn’t been drunk, maybe I would’ve wondered what was happening between us. Being around Ollie was comfortable and thrillingat the same time. It was as if I’d known him my entire life. Out on the boat during those first few months of our friendship, it felt like anything was possible, like our lives outside it weren’t real at all.
But of course they were. Life on deck was the dream, and we were sailing steadily toward the end of it, where everything we’d been running from was still waiting for us.
9
Present day, March, three months left of charter season
When I wake up an hour before my shift on earlies is supposed to begin, I peer over the side of my bunk and find Ollie’s bed empty. I can guess where he’s gone. Ollie has always been a light sleeper, but some nights, he hardly sleeps at all. The first time I found him up on the bunny pad at sunrise was years ago, but I’ll never forget how he told me watching the sun come up was as restful as an hour of sleep. Right now, sleep sounds like the better option to me, but when Ollie can’t sleep, it’s usually for a reason. Maybe he had a nightmare. He could be up there having an anxiety attack. I won’t get any rest worrying about it, so I slip from bed and change quickly into my uniform, tossing on a cardigan before I leave our bunk. When I pass through the crew mess, the light on the electric kettle is on. Ollie and his tea, of course. He’s probably already gone through a mug of it but is too tired or upset to come back down for another. I stifle a yawn and start a pot of coffee for myself and the rest of the crew. While I wait, I make a mint tea for Ollie.
Sure enough, I find Ollie staring out at the ocean when I reach the bunny pad. The wind is gentle today, ruffling his hair in the early-morning light. It’s a thrill to see him up here, looking so pretty, especially when I thought I wouldn’t see him for months. We’ve had our ups and downs since charter season started, but in this moment, he’s my golden boy, literally and figuratively.
“I thought I might find you here,” I say.
Ollie turns to me, bleary-eyed. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
