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“Yes.”
“And did you not experience any storms when you were on a boat?”
He blinked a few times. “I think so, yes.”
“And were you this worried then?”
“Not that I remember.” Then he looked at me, annoyed. “And I know what you’re thinking. That it’s foolish that I’m worried now.”
“I would never think it’s foolish.”
“Then why did you bring it up?”
“I just thought I’d point out that you were fine back then, and you’ll be fine now.”
“But I didn’t have you then.”
“What difference does that make?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Because I’m worried for you.”
“Are you saying you love me? I’m pretty sure you’re saying you love me.”
He rolled his eyes, but his grip on my hand had lessened somewhat. “Are you trying to distract me?”
I laughed. “Yes. And it’s working. Because I’m getting some feeling back in my pinky finger.”
He let go of my hand completely. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologise.” I shrugged. “If that didn’t work, I was going to suggest throwing these seat cushions on the floor and distracting you in carnal ways.”
He almost smiled, until thunder rumbled overhead, louder this time.
Closer.
He grabbed my hand, and his grip was vice-like again. “Does this boat have lightning rods?”
“Yep. It has—”
“Good.”
I noticed then that he was doing that mouth thing, where it tasted bad, and sure enough, lightning cracked and lit up the sky.
“We’ll be fine,” I whispered, but the boat rocked more, the water slapping the hull.
“What’s that noise?”
“It’s just water.”
“It’s not a crocodile testing the structural integrity of the hull?”
I snorted. “No. This isn’tJaws.”
Which was the very wrongest thing I could have ever said because his eyeballs almost exploded out of his head. “Sharks? Oh my god, Tully, why would you say that?”
