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It’s his selfless courage—knowing he’s with me and that he’s had me through this whole awful homecoming—that buoys me.
The speedboat swerves in close to the yacht, slashing forward and then dropping back as Grant adjusts speed.
He angles our boat, tries to keep an even pace until we come up to the rungs of the unretracted ladder on the outer hull.
I take a breath, hold it, and wait.
Closer, closer, inch by inch.
All I need is the magic word.
“Now!” Grant shouts.
I don’t think.
I just gather my body and throw my strength into my legs.
A real-life leap of faith.
For the longest second, the world is empty air under me.
The terror when I realize if I miss, I’ll be smashed between the hulls of both boats like a bug before I hit the water.
Then my grasping hand hits the ladder’s rung.
This loudslapstings my palm and reverberates through my arm, whipping me back from that frozen moment into fast-rushing reality.
Hold on.
Hold on tight.
I grit my teeth and ignore the instinctive panic, latching on hard with my other hand. The stakes are so much higher than doing pull ups back in high school gym class.
My body slams into the yacht’s hull with a hollowboom.
I’m going to have the worst whiplash tomorrow morning, if I make it home alive.
Sucking in hot, rushed breaths, I scramble my feet until I find a lower rung. The water keeps lapping at my soaked heels as I fight for footing.
For a nanosecond, I glance back at Grant.
Flashing hazel eyes lock on mine, burning with certainty and encouragement and a love that almost makes me implode.
Go, go,his eyes say.I fucking know you can do it. Life has been dragging you around, leaving you helpless.
You’re not helpless now, Butterfly.
You can do this.
You can help me save them.
I’m with you.
Always.
I nod fiercely.
Just in time for the boat angling away under his touch as I turn and scale the ladder as fast as I can, pulling myself up in quick, short bursts.
