I rub his back. “I know. This was a huge mistake on my end. I’m so sorry.”
Am I really this unreliable? It’s like all the worst things my family says about me are true. I’m a joke, even when my life depends on it. And now Hank knows the truth.
I let him down. Guilt settles in my gut like a boulder.
But he turns. Hank places his hand on my cheek, holding me and looking in my eye.
“This is a lot. And I might have more to say on it later. But I also need to say something else now because it’s true. We survived. We’re alive, Elliot, and we’re going home, and we made it here together. Thank you.”
I nod, his words helping me come back to the relief of it all.
“Thank you,” I say, grateful that he can find that in him still. “Thank you for helping me survive.”
I want to kiss him, but I realize with a sting that we probably don’t do that anymore. We’re rescued, so who are we to each other? Nothing at all, based on our commitments.
A loud cough interrupts from the room. A different assistant with braided red hair and magenta lipstick gives us more broth and water, some fresh clothes, and a phone.
Hank and I take turns. First, he calls his sister, and I call Taylor, who scream-laughs and drops the phone when I greet her. I hear Marko and other people cheering with happiness in the background when they learn it’s me, and I start crying again.
After a couple more calls, Baronet Spencehill joins us in the sitting room, now dressed in light blue suit trousers and a white button-up shirt. His silver hair is carefully styled, and there’s a handkerchief placed in his pocket.
“The Coast Guard awaits you at the dock,” he says with gravity. “I am only here to see you off. You have all you need for a comfortable trip?”
“The Coast Guard?” Hank asks. “Is that necessary?”
“It is,” he says sharply. “And proper.” He nods to his assistant, who hands us each a business card. “If you require anything of me, this number will reach my staff,” he says, and hesitates. “Whatever you needed to do out there in order to… stay warm, men are afforded a certain laxness in times of need. If anyone is to ask, I will simply say that I found you hunting. For dignity. And I trust you’ll speak kindly of my hospitality as well.”
“Yes, you’ve been every bit as dignified as we have,” I say.
Hank coughs to cover up a surprised laugh, and the man grimaces.
“This way,” he instructs.
Hank and I follow him to the docks. It’s dark now, and a big green boat is awaiting us. The Coast Guard agents who accept us are friendly enough, but as we take off, they also have a mission, questions they want answered, instructions on how we should eat and drink and move as we recover. After we’re situated with emergency blankets and hot tea, we’re told that there will be a report to file tomorrow, and that they’d like us to spend the night in the hospital for observations.
“That seems reasonable,” Hank says at the same moment I blurt out, “Absolutely not.”
The agent nods. “You have separate rides waiting for you. Make whatever decision you’d each like.”
She returns to the front of the boat, leaving us alone in the rear. As the craft speeds across the water, I’m amazed thatcivilization quickly starts rising up in front of us. It’s not long until there are buildings and boats everywhere, the city of Seattle sparkling ahead.
“We’ve really been so close the entire time,” Hank says, awed, as we steer in for a landing just north of the city. “In the Strait of Juan de Fuca, like I hoped.”
The shining lights of civilization hurt my eyes, and the motors rumble in my ears.
“Unreal,” I say.
“We’ve been gone less than three weeks,” Hank adds.
When I see that we’re pulling up to a dock, something the Coast Guard agent said earlier clicks into place. “We’re going away in separate vehicles.”
Hank shifts next to me. “I guess we are.” He scrunches his brow, concerned. “You won’t go to the hospital?”
I scoff. “I’m not paying for all that. I just want to go home.”
We look into each other’s eyes. There are a million things I want to say, and I see a world of emotions pass through Hank’s hazel gaze.
I don’t want to leave him, and I take his hand.
