“The cannibalistic ones?”
They’re going todie.
He forces me to sit beside Molly, who is unfazed by the predicament her husband put himself in. He can’t fight back with the massive camera equipment he brought. At least Jett can use his fists.
My head swirls until I’m dizzy and sick with the detailed image of them being mauled and shredded by shark teeth.
He’ll go down swinging if it’s man versus shark.
The thought dissipates a fraction of my anxiety, though sweat still trickles down my spine.
Ice rattles as he digs a beer out of the cooler and shoves it into my grip. I spin the metal, frowning. “It’s barely nine in the morning.”
“We’re in Australia, darlin’. And you seem like you need it.”
A hiss sounds when I crack it open and take a sip. The hoppy flavor hits my tongue, and I barely stop my nose from scrunching. “Great Northern,” I read out loud, twisting the tan-and-red can. “It’s…beer.”
“The presence of sharks in an ecosystem is a good thing,” he explains as I sip on the beverage before it gets warm. Beer is mediocre on its own, but I won’t be able to stomach it if it’s warm. “It means the system is balanced. Without the top predators, populations can grow out of control and then decimate other populations through over-foraging. They keep the balance. Cull any diseased animals. We want sharks around.”
I recognize the importance from a biological standpoint. It is their ocean, after all. But the less logical part of my brain dislikesthe lack of control I have right now with Jett underwater and me on this boat, completely useless if something goes wrong.
It’s unlikely I would be helpful in the water—my five-three body would not deter a shark—but the uneasiness would settle if I had my eyes on him.
“We also have leafy seadragons,” he says, handing me a field guide full of the species found off the coast of New South Wales. “And the rock lobster. It’s known for its beautiful shell coloring. Also makes for good eating.”
Now that I’m preoccupied, which I think was his plan all along, he leaves, and I flip through the species guide, reading about different invertebrates and fish found in Manly. I avoid the sharks and rays section, and when my drink is gone and I’ve learned everything I can about seadragons and seahorses, my worries are replaced by a soft buzz and a new obsession with sea slugs, or nudibranchs.
As go-with-the-flow as he can be at times, Jett is smart. He wouldn’t do anything dangerous—not without considering all the possibilities first. His credentials and certifications are more advanced than I expected. Plus, he can always sacrifice Doug or the dive guide if it comes down to survival.
The intense sun beats down, and I remove my swimsuit cover, revealing the floral one-piece Jett bought for me. I was not bold enough this morning to wear the bikini.
Molly gasps at her book, sits up, and chucks it at the other side of the boat, the papers flapping as they bounce along the deck.
“What was that for?”
“I always know the twist,” she says, shaking her head. “Always.”
“But not this one?”
“No, they fucking killed her! The husband and her doctor were in on it.” Molly digs through the cooler, cracks open a beer, and takes a long, deep gulp. “Let’s talk about you. What’s your deal?”
“My deal?”
“Yeah. You’re young and pretty. Are you dating? Do you have a boyfriend? Tell me something fun so I don’t have to think about that book.”
“There’s not much to tell. I’ve given up.”
Molly chuffs. “You’re too young for that. What happened?”
“The last guy I was seeing called me his ‘West Coast piece’ and had a different girlfriend in each region of the United States.”
I leave out the part where he called me sugar tits in bed. That’s not for Molly to know. It’s bad enough Jett is privy to that knowledge, even if he did apologize profusely.I never would have agreed to give you the shirt if I had known, he said as we boarded the plane.I’m sorry if it made you uneasy. He offered to burn the shirts, which seemed extreme, but I waved him off.
The embarrassment has faded, and I can objectively admit the shirts are hilarious. “Oh, that’s bad.” Molly grimaces. “But that’s one apple in the bunch.”
“The one before him told me I would be prettier if I lost ten pounds. And before that, it was a man who worked in tech and drank chlorophyll water and followed a carnivore diet.” A gust of wind dances over the water, and the chill distracts from the heat flooding my cheeks.
Those are only the men in the last year. I don’t bring up the four-year shit show with Tommy—I can’t open that can of worms. He took my weakness as an opportunity, preying on the times I needed him and used them to mold me into something more palatable for him. When I finally picked myself back up, I told myself it would be different with the next guy—I could be different—but it hasn’t been.
