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Not for me–for Jackson.
I’d put the child-sized life jacket on Jackson and left him down in our bedroom watching a cartoon on Chase’s tablet, with Chase’s too-big headphones perched on his head. I’d hoped it would calm him down and drown out the noise beyond the walls of our boat. Once he’d settled down, I went up on deck again and went to the bridge to see about getting the engine started. I knew it wouldn’t be quiet—or particularly graceful—considering I’d be at the wheel, but if I did everything fast enough, I could get away. To where?
I had no clue.
My strategy was to worry about that part later and so far, it was working.
“Okay…this looks right…” I muttered, running my hand over the buttons and levers. “If I hit this one, and then that red one. Or wait, not the red one? Is that just in spy movies? Oh, God. I don’t know.” I cursed myself for always getting distracted by the way Chase’s powerful hands gripped the levers or the sure confident motions as he turned the wheel or adjusted and sailed like he’d been doing it before he’d taken his first steps.
I should have been paying attention to which levers he’d used—and when. That would have helped, instead of just fueling pointless fantasies that had led to…well, no. I wasn’t going to think about that either.
Focus, Melissa. I gritted my teeth and stared down at the controls again.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I muttered. I’d reach for one button, only to change my mind, and pull my hand away twice as fast. The longer I stared at the options, the less sense it all made to me. Damn it!
There had to be a manual around here. New cars have them, I wondered if boats did—well yachts. I opened the cover to a little glovebox-looking thing and rummaged around, hoping upon hope I’d find something useful.
“Need a hand?”
“Shit! Oh my God!”
My eyes flew open and a lightning bolt blasted through my body, lighting every nerve and cell. I whipped around and choked back a cry at Chase’s broad-shouldered form standing in the darkened doorway. “Chase?”
He was soaking wet, his dark clothes sticking to him, and his wet hair was standing up as though he’d just got done running his hands through it to remove the excess water. “Oh my God! Where were you? Are you okay? What happened over there?” The questions shot out at a machine gun pace, not leaving time for Chase to even attempt an answer before I spit out the next one.
“We can talk about all that later.” He took a step into the room and I noticed he was limping.
“You’re hurt!” It wasn’t a question, more of a horrified statement. “Where? Let me see. I can help.”
“Not right now,” he grimaced and took another step. “We have to get out of here before the harbor master comes to pay us a visit with half a dozen of his buddies in blue. You shouldn’t even be here. It’s not safe!”
His criticism cut to the quick and I pulled away from him. My cheeks flooded with heat and I gestured frantically at the controls. “I was trying, but I don’t know how to get this thing going,” I confessed, my voice soft, almost shamed.
“You know, they don’t have a self-destruct button on these things.”
I threw my hands up in the air. “You’re welcome for waiting on you!”
“You should have left me behind as soon as that explosion sounded,” he growled back.
“Well excuse me for giving a shit!”
Chase shook his head and turned his attention to getting the engines running. “It doesn’t matter anymore. We’re going. Now.”
“Well, we’re not going to get very far if you bleed out on the way,” I shot back, turning my attention to try and assess the damage to his leg. A task made impossible in the low lighting and the nasty vibes rolling off his hunched back as he got us pulled out of the marina.
He glanced over at me; his eyes dark. “It’s not that serious.”
“How do you know? Have you looked at it?”
He shook his head. “I’ve gone through worse.”
“Oh, well that’s comforting.”
Chase sighed. “Fine, if you want to go get the first aid kit, I’m going to work on getting us out of here.”
I gave a curt nod and spun on my heel. Without another word, I flashed from the room and bolted down the stairs. With shaking fingers, I retrieved the white box with the red plus sign on the front and hurried back up the stairs, nearly losing my balance as the boat jolted. I changed course and swung into the bedroom where Jackson was sitting up in bed. He reached for the headphones, his eyes wide, and pulled them off of his head.
“Hey, sweetheart. Chase is here!”
