Graham’s deep chuckle vibrated through me. “Hold the line, Anna. You’re making me do all the work!”
“But you let the line out so much faster than I can,” I whined, still laughing. I held tighter, aiming to please him.
Graham kept up the rhythm, and soon, let go altogether.
I unwound a few more times until Morton said, “That’ll do. Now, we wait.”
Graham took the spool from me and hung it on a little knob attached to the jolly. He positioned my hands, one above the other, on the line. “Feel the vibrations from the sea?” he asked. His breath tickled my neck.
“Yes,” I said in a shaky voice. “I feel them.”
“When you feel a tug, start reeling.”
He pulled back his hands, but I turned. “Wait,” I said, finally meeting his gaze. He looked like he’d just woken from a long dream. “Stay.”
He rubbed his jaw. “It may take a while,” he said, but he didn’t retreat.
“I don’t mind.” My heart hammered inside my chest, but for the first time in a very long time, I knew exactly what it wanted.
I turned back around to face the sea, my skin acutely aware of every movement Graham made as he shifted, then slowly settled behind me. I froze as his long legs encircled the small space around me, brushing my thighs as he situated himself. Then he leaned in and felt the line. He was so close. He was everywhere.
“Now?” I breathed.
“Not yet,” he answered. “You’ll know.”
My mind registered distant sounds from Morton rummaging in the back, but I could not be bothered. I wanted nothing more than to catch fish for the rest of my life.
Graham’s arm flexed around mine, and he grunted. “Mmm. Maybe there. Did you feel that?”
“No,” I admitted. Though the only thing my mind could comprehend at present was the feel ofhim. The smell of sweet leather and musk from his coat. His chest moving at my back with each breath. We sat there for an eternity, feeling each other’s movements, each other’s breaths.
“I’d wager you’ve caught ten fish for how long you’ve let that line out, Everett,” Morton teased, chuckling.
“Hush, you,” I teased back. “We are trying to catch a fish.”
Morton snorted. “He’s tryin’ to catchsomethingall right.”
Graham bent over, then threw something that looked like a ball of rope at Morton’s chest, which only made the manlaugh more. The two of them were insufferable, but I couldn’t help but smile.
Then my line tugged right. “Oh!” I shrieked, half standing. “Graham!”
He stood abruptly, yanking hard on the line. “Quickly, Anna! Reel it in!”
Panic struck me. “Youreel it in! I do not know how!”
“One handful at a time,” Graham directed, taking the first pull with his own hands.
I took the second, he the third, and I kept his pace until my arms ached.
“Almost there,” he grunted, for he must’ve felt me tiring out. “Can you feel him resisting?”
“He’s too strong.” I grunted back. The line swerved in different directions as my fish fought for its freedom.
Morton looked on greedily. We’d definitely hooked a nice-sized cod. Perhaps the best of the day.
Graham nudged my shoe with his. “You cannot give up now. Look!”
Just then, the surface of the sea erupted around our line, and I gasped, staring hard at the spot. I’d done it! I’d caught my first fish!
