Page 68 of More Than My Hometown

18

MAISEY

Fuck…

I don’t think. I just move. Grabbing my EMT bag, I take off, running faster than I think I ever have in my life. My legs move as if they are semi-detached from my body—like two little fidget spinners attached to a torso.

The crowd parts like the Red Sea—either because they see me coming or because I’m screaming and I don’t hear myself—making a clear path as I run toward the jetty.

My instincts tell me where to go, leading me toward the same slip that the Hooked on a Reeling is always parked in. Thank God for Ewan’s habits. Skidding to a stop, I suck in a breath as I elbow past a volunteer, ready for whatever I find.

I think.

“FUUUUUCK!”

It’s the loudest curse I have ever heard in my life, and there is zero mistaking that voice. If there is someone in this town who wasn’t awake, they are now. All because Ewan dropped an F-bomb that could have leveled Australia.

I jump into the boat, not giving myself a moment to get my sea legs under me before rushing to the front, my heart slamming against my chest, pure panic filling my veins, especially now that I have confirmation that it’s Ewan that is hurt. Scanning around, I don’t see any blood and am not sure if that’s a good sign or not right now. Until I get around the captain’s chair.

Holy…

Ewan is splayed out on his back, eyes shut, face contorted in pain, legs spread out in front of him. Wait, no. Only one leg is. The other leg is…

The other leg is in the fish box.

“Ewan!”

I rush to his side, kneeling down and starting to examine him. He groans as I run my hands along his body, lightly applying pressure to check for any open wounds or contusions. I press gently against his ribs, earning me another groan, and he opens one eye, halfway glaring at me. Shaking his head, he tries to push himself up, but I stop him.

“Don’t move.”

It’s an order. One I expect him to follow. One I also expect him to fight me on. A fight he’s going to lose.

“I’m fine, Mais,” he croaks, his voice thick and gravelly. “Although I like the bossy tone.”

Called it…

“Well, you’re about to get a lot fucking more of it, and you are not going to like it if you move,” I snap, my panic still in overdrive. Landon slides up behind me and I hear him let out a single chuckle, no doubt over wondering how this happened, but I ignore him, focusing on doing all the necessary checks to verify we’re not dealing with a major spinal or head injury. “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Three,” Ewan answers correctly. “Although behind you I think Landon is making me an offer I’d prefer to refuse.”

I spin around, catching Landon flipping him the bird. Swatting at Landon’s legs, and earning more laughter from both of the guys, I turn back to Ewan.

“What happened?”

“Am I allowed to sit up to tell this story?”

“No.”

“I tried.” Ewan lets out a long exhale. “I grabbed ice for the fish box, and was bringing it on to fill it up and didn’t realize the door was open…”

I look down at his leg, half hanging in the cooler that is built into the hull of the boat. Sure enough, there is some ice already down in the fish box, but not enough that it’s flush with the floor of the boat. If the lid was open…well, it doesn’t take much for my mind to put the rest together. The open bag and ice chunks scattered around the boat deck also corroborate said story.

Two and two are definitely four here.

“My hands were full, and I stepped right in it, and down I went.”

“Did you hit your head?” I ask.