AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I can’t drive like this.” Wes grunts, gesturing to the side of his stomach. Now that he’s close, I can see that he did at least do a little work on the wound—he’s got a washcloth pressed against his skin and wrapped it with some sort of tape. I guess it makes sense that Remy would have a basic first-aid kit on board.
“Okay,” I nod.
How hard can it be to drive a boat? It’s not like there are a million other boats to worry about in the ocean, unlike driving in the car.
I see his knuckles go white as he grabs ahold of the captain’s chair and fights to keep himself upright. “Go sit down.” I snap at him. He won’t be any help to me in this state, and I don’t need him hovering.
“I can guide you away from the dock.”
“I don’t need you to guide me. I need you to go the fuck away before I change my mind about trying to help you.”
Wes’ lips twitch a little, but the smile doesn’t make it to his face. He turns to hobble away as I take in the gauges and controls on the dash and try to convince myself I’m totally right about this being something I can do.
“Monroe,” Wes calls, just as my fingers close around the wheel.
“What?” I growl, my irritation unmatched as I spin around to see what the hell his problem is.
But it’s not just his problem. It’s my problem, too.
Remy’s running down the dock, his black shirt clinging to him like a second skin as he closes the distance between us. He doesn’t slow down as he rushes at me, though I see the confusion in his eyes when he sees me standing at the wheel. And then understanding seems to grip him, and I see the anger flash across his face.
“Go!” Wes yells, gripping the edge of the boat.
I throw it in reverse, expecting it to peel away from the dock quickly.
It doesn’t.
The motor may as well belong to a kids’ RC car, considering how slow it moves. I know it’s capable of more, given that Remy was able to barrel us through a storm and outrun the onslaught in it.
“Claire!” Wes yells, and I shift the gear to see if that will help. But it’s too late. Remy gets a hand on the side of the boat and launches himself onto the deck before the engine picks up. Wes braces himself for impact, but Remy doesn’t even go for him. He stalks directly toward me, grabs the back of my neck to spin me around, and presses me against the dash. Knobs and levers poke at my back as he grinds me against it with one hand and grabs ahold of the wheel with the other.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” He roars, louder than necessary since the engine cuts out in the middle.
“He’s dying.” I say, pointing at Wes. “I’m not just going to let him bleed to death, Remy.”
“I don’t give a fuck about him!” He snaps without taking his eyes off of me.
That blazing inferno of copper and sage in his eyes tells me all I need to know. He’s not just mad—he’s furious. “Well, I do!”
I’m not sure why I say it—it’s not entirely true. The extent of it is pretty much just that I don’t want him to die, but that’s not a good enough reason to tell Remy I care about him. And if I thought Remy was furious before, I don’t know what to call the state he slips into when he repeats the words back to me. “You care about him?” He laughs.
“I don’t want him to bleed to death on your boat, Remy!” I try to reason, but it’s useless. There’s no backing my way out of this. He’s eerily calm, the quirk of his lips more of a disbelieving smirk than a smile.
“Well, I’m glad to know how you truly feel, Claire.” He drops his hand from me like I’m searing his fingertips. “Go.”
“Go?”
“Go sit your ass down. You’re clearly not capable of driving this boat, and I don’t want to die today.”
I don’t even bother being offended since he’s right. I don’t know what I’m doing, and though I can tell he’s pissed about it, this is better than stealing the boat, crashing it, and then explaining what happened. Even if by some miracle I didn’t crash his boat, I’d still be responsible for explaining all the blood splashed around the deck like a damn murder scene.
The life is draining from Wes when I turn to look at him. His skin is ashy, his lips pale and pressed together tightly. I watch him stumble toward the bench seat, one hand out in an attempt to get some balance, the other clutched against his wound like that will keep his insides from falling out.
Remy’s angry stare tingles in the space between my shoulder blades as I cross to Wes with my arms folded. I don’t want to be near him, but I don’t want him to die more than I want to ignore his existence and betrayal. “So cold.” Wes pants when I lean against the bench without getting close to him. I can hear his ragged breaths, and while part of me feels vindicated at his obvious distress, another part of me feels like this is a very hollow victory.
“You’ll be fine,” I say tersely. “You’ll warm up soon.”
“No,” he grits his teeth as the boat rocks into a wave. I don’t know if there are speed limits on the open sea, but if there are, Remy’s probably exceeding it. That tells me he at least cares a little about what happens to Wes, whether it’s for altruistic reasons or otherwise. “You’re cold… frigid like your icy eyes.”
