He’d probably still wrap me in his ocean arms and tell me everything’s going to be okay. But it’s not. And it shouldn’t be.
Not for me.
I count each of the five hundred and twenty-two steps it takes to reach the boat with the big blue sail, its deck busy with the bustling energies of numerous seafaring men.
Baze’s ring scalds my palm, and I dare a peek back down the jetty that’s hazy from a spray of sea mist.
He’s nowhere to be seen, and I wonder which he’s more ashamed of: his scars or his heritage.
Me? I’m not hiding from anyone but myself. My fake shell might be tight and uncomfortable, but what’s below the surface is much worse ...
A beautiful, malignant disaster.
Kneeling, gaze still pinned to the dim scoop of the bay and those shark-tooth stones that decorate its gloomy smile, I set the ring down. When I rise, I somehow feel heavier.
My attention swings to the long, sleek boat that’s built specifically for cutting through the harsh terrain of an unforgiving ocean ... not that it alleviates my chest-cinching anxiety.
Toes barely kissing the ramp, my feet anchor to the pier. The strong, sturdy, familiar pier I’ve looked down on every day for the past nineteen years, never imagining I’d be in this position.
It feels more like a plank because once I step onto that vessel, that’s it. I’m across my Safety Line.
Those final steps seem insurmountable.
My pulsewhooshesin my ears, louder than the crashing waves.
Strong, resilient, composed ...
I glance up into a mix of unfamiliar faces. The captain is staring down his nose at me from the deck—gray hair tied back, blue blazer pinched with golden buttons that hug a strong physique.
He scans my face as if he’s seeing all the cracks there. “The tide’s dropping. If we don’t leave now, we’ll smash our keel on our way out the bay.”
“Shit,” I mutter without moving my lips.
Always shield your weakness.
I draw on the sea air, then step onto the ramp—every muscle in my body braced to pounce. The sword hanging from my hand becomes the victim of my crushing fist, each footfall taking me deeper into unsafe territory.
But that drop to the deck comes too swiftly, and I swallow again, trying to force my sledging heart down my throat as I look at my feet ...
I feel like I’m standing on the edge of that chasm in my mind, peering into the gloom, afraid of what might be down there. Knowing it’s likely something hideous that will rock me to the core.
But I can’t afford to hide anymore.
You can do it! Just push your arms out like you’re flying and slide your foot forward ...
His voice sings to my tortured soul, shooting steel into my spine. I nod to myself—tohim—stare stabbing out across the bay.
I picture his hands outstretched and waiting. Picture his big, half-moon smile. Pretend I’m moving toward that bolt of happiness that struck me as I fell into his arms and was tickled into a ball.
Breath held captive, I step onto the sturdy, hard-wood deck ...
I expect to feel some immediate shift in the air. Expect my entire body to fold over in unimaginable pain, or for a Vruk to spring forth and slash at me with talons that squeal with every swipe. I expect many things, and though none of them happen, I feel no relief.
I just took the most important step of my life, and those tickles never came.
My fault.
All my fault.
