He’s not even going to make me ask? I glance up to see his face matching the sincerity in his tone. “Thanks.”
A tiny splash of water pulls my attention to the side of the skiff. Through the rippling blue surface, a school of baitfish jerk around in tight formation, like they can’t decide where to go. Beneath them lurks a long, dark gray shape.
National Geographic: Oyster Farm Edition.The content takes shape in my head, and I lean over the side of the skiff, stretching to get a clear video. My shadow must spook them, because the fish shift, moving closer to the float that’s just beyond my hand.
“Careful there.”
Grayson’s unnecessary warning comes as I stretch further, bracing my free hand on the float so I don’t fall in. The bigger fish stills, and I wonder if I’m about to witness a baitfish murder. Maybe someone can do a David Attenborough impression for the voice-over.
There’s a flurry of sound, like flapping wings, then a storm of movement careens into my back. I startle, my hand slipping from the float.
I try to pull back into the skiff, but my entire bodyweight is forward, over the water, and then it’s—crap.
I flop face-first, cool water rushing into the bibs within amillisecond. Desperation throws my injured hand up in the air,barelysaving my phone from the fate of the rest of me.
My feet catch on the bottom, and I pop up, every loose hair on my head plastered to my face as I sputter. The wind hits first, a wall of ice against my skin. Then I register Dave beside me, bobbing his head in the chest-deep water.
Then the deep, rich sound of Grayson’s laugh.
“Shit, I should’ve warned you. Dave will do anything for bait.” My eyes blink open to find Grayson grinning ear-to-ear, like this is the best reality TV show he’s ever seen. “As unlucky as that was, you’rereallucky we’re not in a deeper section.” He kneels at the side of the boat, extending a hand.
The speeding steam train in my chest charges right off the end of the track.
And I do the most humiliating, unrecoverable thing I have ever done.
I burst into tears.
For a desperate second, I think I can play it off, the first few tracks blending with the salt water clinging to my skin.
But when Grayson says, “Fuck,” I lose every last bit of control I have.
I cover my face with my hands, wanting to die as my breaths saw in and out and the tears pour free. Grayson curses again, and the water around me shifts as he hops in and wades toward me.
No. No. No.
I want a whale to swallow me whole. For an underwater sinkhole to pull me down. For a waterspout to whisk me away. I cannot believe I’m doing this, but I can’t stop it, the stress and disappointment and?—
“Hey.Hey. Are you hurt?” There’s no more amusement in his tone. Two big hands land on my shoulders andcarefully pat down my arms, which I’m holding awkwardly above the water to keep my phone and bandage dry. When he doesn’t find anything, he moves to my face, his hands folding over mine and gently tugging. “Eliza? You swallow some water?”
Sniffling, I shake my head, giving him the answer he needs so he won’t remove my hands. My face is a giant, blotchy mess, and if he sees it, I won’t have a shred of dignity left.
He releases my hands, but his touch stays, fingers smoothing back over my hair, pulling the soaked strands away from my forehead. “Let’s head back to the dock.”
My body wants to melt into that low, soothing timbre. But I shake my head. “It’s f-fine. Y-you can finish up here. It’s just water.”
It’s not at all fine. I’m a pathetic disaster. But I can handle it, once my lungs stop spasming and my eyes stop leaking.
No one’s dead. No one’s threatening me. It’s just my fucking brain.
One of his hands settles softly on the side of my face, while his other skates down to my shoulder. “You’re out of your mind if you think we’re going to keep going.”
“Y-you told me l-last week that if I get wet—” a sniffle— “we’re not turning back until y-you’re done.”
“I meant splashed with water. Not you falling in on a cold morning.”
“You d-didn’t specify.”
His soft exhale mingles with the breeze. “Well, I am now.” He lets go of me, only to place a hand between my shoulders and nudge me forward. I go, dragging my hands across my cheeks as the tears begin to slow.
