I’ve never looked into it.”
A gust of wind hits the boat, rain pelting the aluminum siding in what sounds like tiny rocks being dropped on a floor. “Why?” he asks, and then quickly looks away.
“They gave their life for me. Okay, they didn’t really, they died and didn’t have much of a choice, but they did. They chose organ donation.” I pause, weighing on my thoughts and trying to accurately put my fears into words that make sense. I glance up and meet his eyes. Clearing my throat, I add, “I’m scared their family will think I’ve wasted their loved one’s life by working at a bar and having absolutely no direction.” I slide off the captain’s chair and reach for my shoes. “Putting a name, a face to the life of the organ, it sorta takes it to another level of survivor’s guilt.”
He stares at me, completely silent. I almost regret being so open with him.
His eyes lower. “I wouldn’t feel guilty,” he mumbles, his mouth barely moving around the words. His expression is off—a forced indifference that doesn’t mask the emotion. He takes a cigarette from the pack on the counter and then lights it. Taking a puff, he blows the smoke out the open window.
I watch the smoke curl artistically toward the wind. “Would you find out if you were me?”
That question catches him. His hand halts the process of reaching for the smoking ember between his lips. His eyes lift to mine, and then quickly away. “No, probably not.” Taking his thumb and forefinger, he pinches the end of his cigarette, snuffing the flame and then places it next to the radio. Waving the smoke away from my face, he pulls me into his chest. “I’m heading up to Alaska for a couple days with Bear.”
“On your boat?”
He nods, his eyes lower to my lips. He kisses me, once, twice, and then jumps when someone smacks the window.
“Me next!” Bear yells, laughing.
“I might toss him overboard this trip,” Lincoln teases, moving away from me to fasten his belt.
Sweeping my hands over my hair, I reach for my jacket and wrap it around myself. I don’t leave right away. I watch them prepare to cast off, and Bear tells me about how scientists tagged a nine-foot great white in Australia. And then, one day, scientists had been tracking the shark and noticed it dropped from nineteen hundred feet in seconds, and its body temperature increased twenty degrees.
“What does that mean?” I ask, completely enthralled with the way they feed off one another. Bear’s the outgoing one, and Lincoln is the one making the decisions. I wonder what the dynamic had been like between them and Rhett. Judging by the way Lincoln shut down those questions earlier, I have no intention of asking.
“Sea monster,” Bear says, handing Lincoln a box of lures. “That’s the only reasonable explanation for it.”
“Or the tracking device came off and hit the current,” Lincoln adds, shaking his head. He hits his hand to Bear’s chest. “Shut up. No one cares about sea monsters.”
I laugh. “You’d get along with Presley. She refuses to walk on the docks at night because she swears there are sea monsters, and they’re going to eat her.”
Bear eyes me. “Which one is Presley?”
“Blonde, blue eyes.”
Bear’s eyebrows draw together. “The one with the nice ass?”
I snort. “I don’t look at her ass that much, but I guess so.”
He makes a humming sound that makes me laugh again. “Yep. I’d totally eat her.”
“Dude,” Lincoln groans. “Don’t be gross.”
My cheeks heat. “Okay, I think I should be going.”
Bear winks. “Give her my number.”
“What happened to Mal?”
He tilts his head to the side. “The one with kids?”
I nod.
“She hasn’t called. Gotta keep my options open.”
“Probably for a reason.” Lincoln steps between us, his chest against mine. “Do her a favor, and don’t give her his number.”
Laughter escapes me and warmth fans across my cheeks as I stare up at him. “When do you come back?”
“Tuesday.”
“Thursday,” Bear adds, moving around the boat.
Lincoln frowns. “Okay, probably Thursday.”
I have to go six days without him? The thought of not seeing him for that long sends a rush of anxiety through me. He helps me off the boat. I stand on the very same spot I was not more than twenty minutes ago, only now it feels different. The air’s chilled, angry beats of wind slapping my face.
He looks up at me, his attention focused behind me. “When I get back, I need to talk to you