He has a point. But I still don’t like it.
“What about animals?”
Ryan shrugs. “Haven’t seen anything dangerous.”
“Yet.”
Charlotte looks between us, stepping in before it turns again. “Maybe we try it for a few nights. Just to see if it’s cooler.”
Ryan nods. “That’s a good plan.”
I watch him for a second—the way he carries himself now, like he already knows what comes next.
He acts a lot like Dad.
I hate that.
The second the conversation ends, Ryan gets to work.
He starts pulling everything apart—drawers, lockers, anything that might hold something useful. One by one, it all ends up in the galley. What used to be clean and untouched now looks like we’ve torn it open.
I follow him down the narrow hallway as he yanks open cabinets and starts handing things over without even looking at me.
“Take that.”
He nods toward a coil of rope. I grab it, sling it over my shoulder, and keep moving.
Before long, we’re hauling supplies down the ladder and dropping them near the trees. Knives. More rope. Two folded tarps from the emergency lockers.
Ryan digs out a box of signal flares from under a stack of life vests and tosses it to me. I catch it against my chest.
He’s already onto the next thing—another cabinet, a plastic crate full of fishing gear. The deeper we dig, the more we find. Stuff that never mattered before suddenly does. A toolbox. Extra line. Empty water bottles in the trash.
Ryan moves nonstop, carrying things down to the beach two at a time like he’s trying to empty the whole boat.
By the time the sun climbs higher, sweat is running down both our backs. The pile under the trees has turned into a mess of gear.
Charlotte stands nearby with Jameson, watching.
When I come down with another armful of rope, she steps forward. “Do you want help?”
I drop it onto the pile and wipe my hands on my shorts. “Just stay out of the way.”
Her mouth tightens. For a second, I think she might push back.
Ryan looks up from the crate he’s sorting through and shoots me a look—don’t.
I ignore it and head back up.
Inside, the heat’s worse. The air barely moves, and everything feels warm to the touch.
Ryan’s already halfway into another cabinet when I step back into the galley.
“What else?”
He nods toward the back. “Storage near the engine room.”
I don’t like the sound of that, but I follow him anyway.
