ABOUT AN HOUR LATER, FULLY exhausted we flop onto the bottom of our small boat. I think back to the much larger speedboat everyone else is in—one with an engine—and close my eyes. They’ll have a much better chance against this. I hope they outrun it. I hope they find land or call the Coast Guard and tell them we’re still here.
I hope…
I suck in a deep breath and instantly regret it. The open and cool ocean breeze we had before is now pitch black, humid, and stifling. We’re both silent except for our breathing and I roll my lips between my teeth to stop myself from reminding him once again not to fall asleep. Mostly it’s a reminder to myself not to do the same.
We’re both lying on our backs, a bench between us, and from the sounds of his breathing, he’s turned towards me, possibly taking as much comfort in my presence as I am in his.
God, I’m so glad I’m not alone in this.
A whimper escapes before I can smother it and it’s like the dam has broken. Hot tears slide down my face and into my hair; my scalp already itches from the saltwater and whatever ever else is matting it. Probably blood from when I smacked my head at our landing.
East’s hand finds mine in the dark and I squeeze my eyes shut, embarrassed and longing for a moment of privacy for my breakdown. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
“Don’t apologize,” he whispers shakily, and I can tell he’s close to tears himself. It makes me feel better, knowing someone clearly strong, is equally freaking the fuck out.
“What are we going to do?” I moan, squeezing his fingers tightly.
“Talk to me because we can’t fall asleep and I don’t want to die not knowing the person who saved my life.”
I’m caught between a sob and laughter. “You saved us.”
“We saved each other,” he concedes.
“What do you want to know?” I ask, only to tense up as another crash of thunder sounds, this time closer. It’s then that I notice the rocking of the boat picks up. Before we were moving constantly, I thought it was just us, but now…
“Whatever you want to tell me, Taylor McKay,” he answers, breaking my concentration on the water.
“My dad died three months ago,” I say suddenly, thankful for the darkness. It’s easier to say it out loud knowing no one can see the pain on my face and I can’t see the pity on theirs.
“I’m sor—” he begins, but I cut him off.
“Don’t. Don’t apologize. I realize it’s because you don’t know what else to say, it’s automatic, but it’s just…”
“I get it,” he says lightly, and I let it go.
“He was the best. Which I’m sure every little girl thinks about her father. Or at least they should. I did about mine. He taught me everything he knew and he loved his life, even the parts he got wrong. I know everyone says that about the dead, but my God, East, he lived. If he woke up one morning and had a hankering to see the Grand Canyon, he would bundle me up in the car and drive us there. Nothing was too crazy.”
“He sounds incredible,” East says quietly.
“He was,” I choke, my throat tightening again with tears, “even when he got sick. Even then. I—ah, had a bit of a midlife crisis when he died,” I confess dramatically.
East makes a small sound of amusement. “How so?”
“Oh, you know, the usual. I quit my job at a Fortune 500 company, which everyone thought was incredibly idiotic considering I was very young to hold the position I did.”
I can practically feel businessman East perk up. “Oh yeah? What did you do?”
“I was Senior CPA for McCain, Grant and Greene Brokerage. We dealt mainly in—”
“Hybrid securities. Yes, I’m aware. Very impressive, Ms. McKay.” East does sound impressed so I try not to get my back up. So many people, rich men usually, were so condescending about my position at that company. As if it’s cute that I made a career out of math.
“I guess. I hated it. Never saw the light of day; never saw my boyfriend, only woman in my department. It wasn’t a huge loss when I quit. Not for me.”
“So how did you end up on the Naiad?”
“After partaking in the most depressingly amicable breakup in the history of relationships, I went home and got drunk off cheap Moscato. All class, all the way. I turned on the television for the first time in God knows how long and started watching this show about a bunch of people working on a charter. It’s the antithesis of everything I was doing, which seemed like a good idea at the time. Now…”
“Unless you can see the future, I doubt you would’ve been prepared for this.”
“Meh. I know you’re Easton VanHouten of the VanHoutens. Very important, very rich, very established.” I try not to snort in disdain, but judging by his quiet chuckle he can tell what I think of his status. “I know you were on the yacht celebrating a deal you finally closed. Oh, and I know you were planning on hooking up with Sarah.”
“Shit!” He laughs and it’s a warm, deep laugh. Surprisingly infectious. “Call me East; after what we just went through I think we can suspend formality. What else is there to tell you? You seem to know everything already.”
“People do talk. It’s a small yacht.” I laugh and he gives my hand a squeeze. I forgot we were holding hands.
“You already know my name and apparently a little of what it means. I’m the head of a venture capitalist firm and we just acquired rights to what’s probably the next very big deal in Net security. My younger brother Carter is my VP and my best friend and probably one of two people on Earth who will miss me when I’m gone.”
“Stop,” I whisper, turning on my side to face him.
“It’s true,” he says matter-of-factly.
“What about your parents?”
“Not everyone is loved by their parents, Taylor. Some are seen as a means to an end, a tool against a spouse, leverage for money. I’ve been a weapon one parent has used against the other for so long they forgot to hate each other and started hating me.”
“No,” I disagree instantly. I couldn’t imagine that; my experience was so different and my father had a reason to truly resent me.
He sighs roughly and removes his hand from mine; I feel instantly lost without him.
“You don’t know anything about me. Thank God for my brother. He’s the one who pushed me to go on this trip. I haven’t done anything but eat, sleep, and breathe this deal for the last year. It was supposed to be relaxing. And now—” His breath hitches.
“We’re going to be ok.” I lie because I need to have something to hold onto and if it can’t be his hand, then let it be the lie that’s steeped in hope. East says nothing and the silence is worse so I prod him to continue. “Do you like your job?”
“My answer would have been an instant yes, but—” he trails off.
“But?”
“Fucking hell, Taylor. Shit’s really in perspective right now. When I’m not freaking out, I’m thinking about all the things I’ve done and the things didn’t have a chance to. And then you tell me you upend your life, it’s just—”
“You’re not sure anymore.”
“No. I love the challenge, the courting of new clients. I love dealing with money and making it for myself. I like being rich. Trust me, I know how that sounds. Mostly I love working with my brother and with passionate people, but maybe it’s been too much the focus of my life.”
“I’d say so, if your brother shoved you on a month-long cruise to chill out and celebrate your success.”
“Yeah, and apparently I’m not as crucial to the operations as I thought. That’s always been my excuse, you know? To avoid commitment, to avoid everything. I have to be there for this company, I’m the president, what would they do without me?”
“Well, I’m glad you decided to take a vacation then. Unfortunate it had to be this vacation, but you know. Can’t win them all.” I’m about to continue when a loud clap of thunder startles a cry out of me, and then the rain comes. The downpour hitting the tarp is deafening and I grope in the darkness for his hand, finding it almost instantly.
The little boat is rocking now, though rocking seems a tame word. It feels as if we are being tossed between waves, from one to the other, and my stomach surges into my throat. I will the contents back down, knowing that if I do survive this, losing what precious little I have in my stomach is not an option.
I change my grip on East’s hand, linking my fingers between his, and finally give in to the urge to cry as loud as I want. The need to stay strong for both of us no longer necessary in the dark and under the cover of storm, my cries are swept away by the screaming wind and pounding rain.
Curling onto my side, I hug his hand to my chest, no longer caring about propriety, just needing to know someone is here with me, and close my eyes. I pray for the sounds to stop, the feeling of being sick to go away, to wake up from the fucking nightmare and be back in Seattle next to Jamie. For my dad to call me in the morning and wish me a good day.
I wish I never turned on that stupid ass show.
“Taylor,” someone whispers, and I feel fingers rub gently against my cheek, moving some of my hair out of the way. “Taylor,” the voice repeats, and I blink my eyes open to find East’s face inches from my own.
Pain erupts all over my body and my face crumples in despair because yesterday was not a dream. It’s real. We are lost at sea. Who the hell knows where that storm blew us? It’s amazing we even survived.
“I know, I know, but I need you to help me push the tarp back. We need to see where we are.” East pets my hair.
“In the middle of the fucking ocean, East, that’s where we are!” I snarl and instantly regret it when his face drops.
“I’m trying here, Taylor. I need you to just hang out a little longer with me. I can’t lose you yet. I need you to stay strong.”
Just live, squirrel.
“Fine.” I push up onto my knees and elbows, wincing as my bruised body protests loudly, and move to the front of the boat to unsnap the top as East works on the sides. We peel it back so half the boat stays covered and the rest is open to the sun—and holy shit…
I gasp loudly, blinking away the blinding light and lift my hand to shade my eyes. “Jesus, it’s bright.”
“Direct sunlight and it’s reflecting off the water,” East grunts, shading his eyes too, and crawls up to where I sit with my back against the left side of the boat, legs stretched out in front of me.
It’s the first time I get to inspect myself in clear light since everything happened and the light is not kind to my body. It shows on every bruise, cut, and abrasion on my legs.
“Shit,” I mutter and check out my arms, thankful those seem otherwise fine. “How bad does my head look? Hopefully not as bad as my legs.”
East moves in close to inspect the cut on my forehead and I stare at his throat, watching his Adam’s apple bob as his lips nearly graze my skin. He gently prods the tender skin around the cut, then feels the back of my head where my hair is matted.
“They look superficial. You’ve got a pretty big knot on the back of your head. You should clean the cuts on your legs.”
“Let me check you out,” I say, turning towards him and blushing when I realize how my words could be taken. I sink my fingers into his close-cropped black hair and feel for the bump, but find none. “Head’s ok.”
“I think I fared a lot better than you.” He grins slightly and leans over me, reaching for something. “Let’s see what they have in the first aid kit.”
“Wait.” I hesitate, wrapping a hand around his wrist. “We shouldn’t use this unless absolutely necessary.” East tilts his head in confusion and I continue, “My wounds are superficial. They need to be cleaned, but I can use saltwater. We shouldn’t touch the medical supplies unless we absolutely have no other choice.”
He nods slowly and moves over me to the other side, where the rest of the supplies are. “Ok, that makes sense. Let’s see what else we have.”
He starts unzipping the compartments and pulls out the large first aid kit, then hands it to me. I open it and find gauze, Band-Aids, aspirin, cleansing wipes, gloves, and a small pair of scissors, adhesive tape, and an EpiPen. Much more than I ever hoped for.
I look over to East to see what he’s stacking into a pile and see a knife, rope, four more flares, a distress flag, an air horn, a small pot, water purifying tablets, an emergency blanket, and two protein bars.
East pauses and looks at all of this before closing his eyes and mumbling under his breath.
“What?” I ask him, confused by his response.
He turns to me with an over-bright smile and blinks tears from his eyes. “This is my brother’s work.”
“How do you know?”
“Carter is a survivalist junkie. All he does is watch Naked and Afraid and Alone, and worships Bear Grylls. He loves this stuff. No way was he letting me go out to sea without making sure the boat was stocked just in case.”
I laugh a little and send a silent thank you to fate for putting me on a boat with a man whose brother is a paranoid survivalist. “If we survive this, remind me to kiss the hell out of him.”