“Do you trust me?” Max asked. Nate gave him a wry look as an answer. It was a stupid question to ask under the circumstances. “I know, I know, you shouldn’t. Do you?”
“… yes,” Nate admitted.
“Then go. I’ll make sure this is the best wedding reception ever. I’ll get everyone laid.” That stopped Nate in his tracks. He turned to protest, but Max rolled his eyes and hustled him toward the door. “I’m joking. Go. Before I decide my brother is too good for you.”
It might have been a mistake, but Nate went anyhow. He reached the pier just in time to see the ferry pulling away.
Fuck.
Nate swung the car into a parking space and scrambled out. He left the keys in the ignition and the door hanging open as he hopped the low wall and ran toward the edge of the pier. The man who’d unhooked the mooring line stood on the back of the ferry, the rope half-wound in his hands, and watched Nate incuriously as he drifted away.
Hecouldjump. The idea popped into Nate’s head like it was a good one. The ferry had pulled outthatfar and he could probably make it. Even if he didn’t, the water would break his fall. On the ferry the deckhand’s face brightened with a dark fascination.
Nate chickened out at the last minute and stumbled to a halt at the peeling yellow edge of the pier. The deckhand, who’d apparently been looking forward to him taking a bath, looked disappointed. Sweaty and breathless, Nate doubled over and braced his hands against his knees. He could feel his heart in his throat.
“Fuck,” he muttered. Disappointment dragged at him like a weight and he sank down into his haunches. He could call Flynn, but that was too easy to dodge. For both of them.
A slow clap interrupted Nate’s mope. He scowled and twisted around to see who’d witnessed his humiliation.
Flynn stood behind him, a wry smirk on his face. “For what it’s worth,” he said. “I thought you’d make it.”
