Five Years Ago

 

“Fuck,” Jay muttered to himself as ocean water lapped at his feet. He was damn near at the center of the island. The storm surge alone was indicating that this was gonna be a much bigger storm than predicted.

Cursing, he dropped to his knees into the brackish water as a full tree branch rolled and danced across the air, the leaves shimmying in the wind like a lady’s skirts. He got back to his feet, stumbling in the wind. He was forced to admit that this time, he’d waited too long to evacuate. And now he was going to have to find a place to bunker down and wait it out.

He turned and looked behind him at the small, uninhabited island. It was mostly jungle. He’d been camping on the beach along with a few other surfers who’d traveled out this way to catch what were supposed to be legendary waves. The combination of the reef and the weather patterns had created epic surf this past week. But when the weather had started to turn, everyone else had evacuated back to Grand Bahama.

Jay sighed. No use crying over spilt milk. All he could do was try to find shelter and hope the whole island didn’t sink like a rock in a pond.

He’d heard that there was an old abandoned resort that stood in the middle of the island still. Though some of the other surfers he’d seen over the last week had gone off to explore it, Jay had had no interest. Man-made structures held no appeal for him. Not when the whole cerulean ocean had spread out before him.

Jay scrubbed his sun bleached hair off his forehead and set off at a light jog, his bag bobbing on his back. He said a prayer of thanks to his mother, who always insisted that he carry emergency supplies whenever he did anything like this. Thanks to her, he carried three bottles of water, a water filter, a first aid kit, an emergency cell phone, a space blanket, sunscreen, and a hell of a lot of Clif Bars.

Jay just hoped he lived long enough to thank her in person.

The wind howled around him as more branches cracked and swayed. Leaves swirled through the air like dead birds. He was beyond relieved to see that the center of the island was at an incline. At least a twenty foot increase in altitude. And as he took the incline at a sprint, the creeping ocean was soon left behind him. As long as he could find that resort, he should be fine. He’d hunker down for a day or two, probably go out of his mind with boredom, but he’d be alright.

He just wished he’d brought a book or something.

A few minutes later, Jay stumbled out of the thick jungle and onto an overgrown clearing. The old resort stood like the last rotten tooth in an old mouth. It was crumbling in every way possible, and the jungle had obviously attempted to reclaim the land that had been cleared to build it. Vines crept up the plaster walls of the resort and tall grass turned silver as it laid flat against the wind.

Jay’s lip involuntarily curled as he surveyed the dilapidated building. It was gonna be gross as hell in there. But, he looked back at the darkening sky. It was gonna be a hell of a lot better than getting swept out to sea. And at least the hotel was five stories tall.

There was no way the water would rise that high. He’d be safe from flooding.

Ducking debris, Jay covered his head and sprinted toward the building, straight into the moldy lobby area that had been almost completely reclaimed by the jungle. Golden, gilded woodwork peeked out, tarnished and depressing, from behind vines that climbed the walls. He took a second to smile down at the carpet. It must have once been red. But now it was covered over almost completely in moss. Most of the windows and doors had been broken or pulled off the hinges, so the area gave very little cover from the weather.

Jay jogged toward what he correctly assumed to be the stairwell. He yanked it open and took the stairs two or three at a time. The roar of the wind and rain was immediately quieted behind him as the door slammed shut. The second floor wasn’t quite high enough for comfort, and, feeling that he’d better be safe than sorry, he bypassed the third floor for the same reason. Jay pushed through the door marking the fourth floor and found himself looking out on a dim hallway. Doors to the hotel rooms, painted a color that used to be white, glowed in the dim light. Filtered, stormy light strained in through the dirty window at the end of the hallway.

Jay looked around, tried a few of the hotel room doors and found them locked. With an internal shrug, he tossed his bag onto the hallway floor. The hallway was probably a safer place to kick it than the hotel rooms anyway. There were fewer windows and fewer things to get tossed around by the wind.

Jay paced the length of the hall toward the dirty window and peeked out. He was high enough to see over the trembling green canopy of trees. Out to the steel gray ocean that grimaced back at him, white lipped and furious.

Shit. That was an angry-ass storm. He felt a shiver of regret skitter down his spine. He shouldn’t be here. He wasn’t about to bend over and kiss it goodbye quite yet, but he knew enough to know he should have respected Mother Nature a little bit more this time.

Jay turned back from the window just in time to see a shadow flick across the hallway. It could have been his eyes deceiving him, but he could have sworn the shadow was person-sized. And had disappeared through one of the hotel room doors.

Cautious and curious, Jay padded silently down the hallway. His soaking wet tennis shoes made almost no noise against the old carpet. He treaded carefully, all his senses sharpened and vibrating with tension.

He wasn’t scared, but if he wasn’t alone, he wanted to be completely prepared.

Jay paused in the area he’d seen the shadow. He wasn’t exactly sure which door it had disappeared through and he didn’t particularly want to make a ton of a racket rattling the doorknobs.

Jay heard a familiar voice in his brain. His friendly-ass best friend Eli’s voice. Eli’s voice in Jay’s brain told him just to call out, make his presence known, explain that he came in peace and all that.

But then Jay heard his other best friend’s voice. Marcus, the FBI agent. The Marcus in Jay’s brain told him that this person had definitely seen him and then tried to hide. This person was not yet to be identified as friendly.

The hairs on the back of Jay’s tanned neck rose as he stood in the hallway, choosing between two doors. One was labeled as room 415 and he was reasonably sure he’d tried the door before. The other door was labeled as housekeeping. And he was pretty sure he hadn’t bothered to check the door handle before.

Odds were, the shadow person was just behind this door.

Jay took a low breath and, realizing he was gonna have to deal with it at some point or another, leaned forward and swung the door open. He stepped back a quick step and blinked into the dim darkness.

The room was small, maybe ten feet by twelve. There was the slicing beam of a flashlight balancing in one corner. All the shelves holding various cleaning supplies had been dragged off to one side, and there was a sleeping bag unrolled next to the flashlight. An opened bottle of water was illuminated by the light, a drip running down the side.

“Hello?” Jay asked into the semi darkness, taking one step forward into the room.

Something cold and sharp against his Adam’s apple was the only greeting he got in response.

Immediately, Jay lifted his hands in the air. He wanted to crane his head to the side, see who the hell he was dealing with here, but he didn’t dare move against the cold steel at his neck, and whoever it was stood just behind him.

“Hey,” he spoke soothingly. “I didn’t mean to startle you. I mean no harm.”

The blade at his neck pressed forward, ever so slightly, and Jay instinctually shrank away from it.

“Back. Move back,” a voice gruffly whispered.

He immediately complied, taking one step and then another until he was back in the hallway, his face lit only from the weak light at the end of the hallway.

Looking down, Jay could see a delicate hand holding the hunting knife. A woman’s hand?

And then she stepped into the light, just for a flash, as she slammed the door in his face, stranding him in the hallway.

But that second of seeing her face blinded him like the flash from an unexpected photograph.

She looked wild, terrified and tough at the same moment. Her skin was pale gold and even, her black hair tumbled past her shoulders. Her dark eyebrows sliced across her face, over eyes that were insanely, startlingly green. Celery green. Her mauve, juicy lips were slightly chapped and pulled forward, as if she’d been sucking her teeth.

She was small, too. That much had been clear. Jay’s 6’2” frame had towered over her by almost a foot.

Jay heard a lock click loudly on the other side of the door. She’d locked herself in. Which meant that she feared him.

He sagged against the opposite wall. He felt a strange mixture of guilt and outrage. Why did he feel bad? She was the one who’d just held a knife to his throat.

Jay let out a long, slow breath and tried to calm his racing heart.

He stepped up to the door, leaned his forehead against it, and spoke into the crack along the jamb. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Go to a different floor.” Her voice was hard and sharp, but Jay got the impression it was like glass, just a breath away from breaking.

“Ah.” He scrubbed a hand over his forehead. “I’d really rather not. The third floor doesn’t seem high enough. And the fifth floor runs the danger of having the roof ripped off.”

She was silent on the other side for a minute. “That’s what I thought too. But I was here first. So go down to the third and if it gets bad enough, we can talk then.”

Jay glanced down the hallway to the weather on the other side of the window. The midday sun was completely blotted out by the black, swirling clouds. What looked to be a full-sized tree whipped past. The old hotel creaked on its foundation.

He toyed with the idea of going down to the third floor. He’d still be a good thirty feet up from the ground floor. He’d probably be safe. Probably.

“Have you ever been in a hurricane before?” he asked, trying to keep his voice as quiet as possible while still being heard.

She paused again. “No.”

“I have. And they come up quick. The water rises quick. I’m not trying to pressure you. But I’d really like to stay up here. Look. I’ll stay down the hall. All the way down. I won’t bother you. I won’t even speak to you.”

More silence.

“My name is Jay.” He cleared his throat. “And I swear I won’t be a problem for you. If you really want me to go then I’ll go down to the third floor.”

More silence. Then, “I want you to go to the third floor.”

Jay’s stomach tightened. Logically he knew that he was probably going to be fine either way, but still, getting banished to lower ground felt bad, karmically.

He cleared his throat. “Okay. I’m going. If you—if you need any help with anything, please just come ask me.”

He could have sworn he heard her scoff from the other side of the door.

He scrubbed his hand over his face again. “Alright. I’m going. I’m sorry. Again. For startling you.”

Jay strode down the hall and grabbed his backpack off the floor, stepping into the stairwell and making sure the door slammed loudly, so that she’d know he’d kept his word.

***

It was an hour or so later that Jay heard her scraping around up there. The third floor was the exact same lay out as the fourth floor, and Jay had chosen the housekeeping closet the same as she had. It was the most internal of all the rooms, there were no windows to board up or close, and it was the only room that was unlocked. Good enough for him.

He’d been really bothered by her reaction to him. He didn’t blame her, not really. He wasn’t naive. He knew there were a hundred reasons why a small woman should be deeply suspicious of a strange man in an abandoned hotel in the middle of a hurricane. But Jay couldn’t help but be worried for her as well. She was so small and all alone up there. He wished she’d given him a chance to prove that they’d be better off together than alone.

He sighed and laid back on the cool tile of the supply closet, looking up at the ceiling. Well, for all intents and purposes, he could consider them together and she could consider them alone. If all went well and the weather cooperated, he’d stay separate from her. If things got dicey, he’d make sure to protect her.

That way everybody won.

But he couldn’t help but frown at the ceiling when he heard her dragging something heavy out of the supply closet and down the hall. With his eyes he followed the sound down the hall toward the stairwell. He heard a decisive thump and realized that she’d most likely leaned something heavy against the fourth floor door to the stairs. She was effectively locking him out.

Jay sighed and shifted positions so that he was lying halfway in the closet and halfway out. He wanted to be able to keep watch on the weather out the window.

It was about another hour after that that Jay heard more shuffling from upstairs. There were a few thumps and a sharp drag. Jay smiled up at the ceiling when he realized that she must be moving the shelf aside from the door.

For whatever it was worth—and to Jay it was worth a lot—she’d decided he didn’t deserved to be locked out.

***

She eyed the darkening sky with a sick feeling in her heart. She knew that the storm wasn’t scheduled for landfall for another ten hours. Which meant the storm was going to get ten times worse than this. She could barely picture it.

She’d weathered plenty of tornadoes back home in Sioux Falls. But this was an animal of a different nature. Tornadoes didn’t last for days. And they killed you dead. Slapped you up against a wall or brought your house down around you. They didn’t scream in your face before slowly drowning you.

She shivered when she thought of all that ocean out there. Just lying in wait. Over the past ten years, she’d made her peace with the sea. With the inexorable beast that had killed her parents. She’d taught herself to swim. She’d learned all manner of water sports. If it floated, she could sail it, paddle it, surf it. She’d taught herself to skin dive, and could hold her breath for up to two minutes while under water.

Over the years she’d seen all manner of sharks, eels, whales, seals. You name it. She’d grown to awe the ocean. Swimming with wetsuits in near arctic waters. And butt ass naked just two days ago on the southern shore of this tiny Bahamian island. This shit just didn’t scare her anymore.

But this storm did. This storm was breathing down her neck, laughing at her. Asking who the hell she thought she was. Fresh doubt started gushing in her gut the second she’d realized she was the last person on the island. She’d been too cocky, thinking she had more time to get back to the evacuation boats. They hadn’t even known she’d been on the island, considering she’d paddled over here and avoided the other surfers, the larger swells. She’d preferred the privacy of the south shore. Being the only female surfer in moments like that were usually a drag. And she didn’t need the crazy thrills as much as she needed the vindication that she’d gone, she’d done it. She’d surfed hurricane swells. Not the biggest ones that the island could have offered that week, but who cared? She’d done it.

And then she’d gotten stuck on the island. Stood on the beach while she’d watched the evacuation boats disappear into the horizon.

She wasn’t permanently stranded, of course. She’d radioed to the coast guard immediately and they’d told her they’d send med evac the first second they could. After the storm broke ground that was. But it was too dangerous to send rescue now. She’d have to wait out the storm. They encouraged her to find the abandoned hotel. To take cover inside. As high as she could while avoiding the top floor.

But nobody could have guessed that she wasn’t the only dummy left on the island. She shivered and pressed her eyes into her knees.

That man, Jay, was downstairs.

He’d seemed nice, to be honest. But she couldn’t afford to take any chances on strange dudes. He’d had a nice voice. But he’d been gigantic. All she’d really seen of him in the dim lighting had been a flash of gold hair, a wide, shirtless chest and hands the size of a bunch of bananas.

No thanks, stranger.

She’d dragged a shelf from the supply closet to block the door from him after he’d left. But after an hour of warring with herself, she’d finally reasoned that the shelf was the equivalent of a death sentence for him. If he was drowning on the third floor, the doorway to the fourth floor was his only escape route.

And he didn’t deserve to die just because he had gigantic hands.

So she’d dragged the shelf to one side, reminding herself that she just needed to get through the next few days. Then she’d be rescued and on her way back to the mainland. A good story under her belt.

She sighed deeply. It was just gonna be a miserable few days. Not quite the relaxing vacation she’d planned for herself.

She sprung to her feet when she heard footsteps on the stairs. They were so loud compared to the way he’d stepped before that she knew he must be doing it on purpose. Letting her know that he was coming.

Three loud knocks sounded on the door of the hallway.

She jolted to the doorway of her supply closet, halfway down the hall. She was ready to spring inside and lock the door the way she had before. She cursed herself for not keeping that damn shelf in place.

Three more knocks. “It’s Jay.”

Each pound against the door made her tighten with tension. “What!”

Her voice echoed in the hall. She hoped he heard her because she sure wasn’t going anywhere closer to the door.

“I was just wondering if you had any food.” His deep voice rumbled through the closed door and down the hall. It really was a nice voice.

“Oh, Jesus Christ. You’re up here begging from me?!” she snapped, beyond tense and deeply frustrated. This guy’s simple presence was already working her last nerve and here he was, asking her to stretch her already meager rations.

“No.” She could have sworn she heard a smile in his voice. “I’m asking if you have any food for yourself. I have more than I need for the next few days.”

“Oh.” Her voice was so small, she could barely hear it herself. But again, she could have sworn she heard him chuckle.

“Look,” he said. “I’m just gonna leave some Clif Bars here outside the door.”

A few seconds later she heard him clambering back down the stairs. And she faintly heard the door to the third floor slam shut.

Curiosity getting the best of her, she tiptoed to the stairwell and opened the door just a crack. She had her hunting knife gripped tightly in one hand. One of her startling green eyes surveyed the area and saw that he was definitely gone. She dropped her eye to the small pile of Clif Bars he’d left on the floor. He’d given her nine of them.

Jesus. That was a week’s worth of sustenance, in a pinch. It was nice. Really nice. She sighed and gathered them up.

Somehow him being nice was harder than him being rude.

***

The sun was going down, Jay was marginally certain of it. He had turned off his emergency cell phone to preserve battery, so he wasn’t totally sure of the time. But his stomach told him he was definitely past dinner time.

He unwrapped one of his remaining Clif Bars and moved his eyes from the sky outside the window to the ceiling of the supply closet. He’d heard her scuffling around a minute ago and he knew that she was directly over him right now.

He chuckled to himself when he remembered the outrage in her voice when she’d thought he was begging for food from her. He would have given anything to have seen her face when she said it. In fact, he would give anything just to see her face again, period. The one glimpse he’d gotten had been incredibly tantalizing.

She had the kind of beauty that deserved a second look. And he’d been given half of one look.

His feet in the supply closet and his head out in the hallway, Jay let his eyes roll to the side again, watching the twisting, curling storm. It was ungodly hot in the hotel. Sweltering. That was one thing he missed about Maryland. When it rained in Ocean City, at least it cooled off.

Jay sat halfway up when he heard a squeaky scraping from above him.

He squinted his eyes at the corner of the ceiling in the supply room. There was some kind of vent right there. And as he watched, a shadow flicked across it. And then more than a shadow. There were… fingers peeking through.

“Hey,” Jay said, for lack of anything better to say. He could just make out her face on the other side of the vent, she must have a matching one in the floor of the closet. He laid completely still, thinking that any sudden movement might startle her into retreating.

“Hey,” she replied, eyeing him through the metal slats. She cleared her throat. “Are you dangerous?”

Jay considered her question. “No,” he answered honestly. “Never.”

She paused. “Are you an asshole?”

“Sometimes. But only to people I love. To strangers? Never.”

“Hmmph.” She was still staring at him, although most of her face was obscured by the grate, he got the feeling that she could see him just fine. He wished he’d thought to put a shirt on. “How did you get stuck on the island?”

Jay ran a hand over his chagrined face. “I got cocky and thought the storm wouldn’t be this big. You might say I have a healthy distrust for the weather channel’s brand of sensationalism.” He sighed. “This time it bit me in the ass.”

She didn’t respond.

“You? How did you get stuck here?” He couldn’t tell, her face was obscured still, but it looked like she grimaced.

“I got cocky too. I didn’t tell anyone I was over here. Surfing the south side. They didn’t know to wait for me.”

Jay internally winced. That was a big no-no. Lone surfing was a good way to get gone and never found. “You got a burning desire for an empty casket funeral?”

She scoffed. “Nah. A burning desire to be left alone, though? Yeah.”

“Ah,” he guessed. “It’s probably not fun to be the only female surfer on a week like this.” He was referring to the size of the egos on most of the surfers who came in search of waves like they’d had last week.

“No kidding. There’s definitely a correlation between machismo and wave size.”

Jay laughed. “What can I say? Size matters.”

He could see enough to see that her eyes rolled. But he also thought she might be biting back a smile. He lifted the Clif Bar to his mouth.

“Wait,” she said, and he immediately stilled. “You should save that. I’ve got some perishables up here we should eat first.”

“Oh.” He felt an unexpected burst of thrill in his chest when he realized she was gonna share with him. “You want me to come up?”

“Um. Nah.” Her voice was deceptively casual. He was sure there was more distrust in it than she was trying to let on. “If you can take the vent cover off on your side then I can just pass it down.”

The bursting thrill immediately extinguished. She was still obviously scared of him. Great.

Well, he’d just have to chip away at it then. Little by little. Jay rose and lifted his hand to the vent, seeing if he could reach it. He accidentally brushed her fingers that were still poking through the vent.

She ripped them backwards, like he’d burned her. Neither of them said anything. Jay squinted and studied the vent for a second.

There were four tiny screws holding it into the moldy ceiling, one on each corner. He sighed, thought of the tediousness of the task ahead of him and decided to go with honesty.               “Look, I could do this one of two ways. One: I could slowly and methodically whittle away at these tiny-ass screws, probably ripping my fingers to shreds in the meantime. Which would have the added benefit of moving slowly and predictably, thereby gaining a little trust from you.” He paused to smile up at her. She merely raised her eyebrows. “Or two: I could just rip this shit out of the ceiling, which would go a lot faster, be a hell of a lot less annoying, and save me a little heartache. But watching me hulk out also might freak you out. So, I dunno. You choose.”

She was quiet as she looked down at him through the grate. And from where he stood, their faces were only two feet apart. She sighed and he felt the faint brush of her breath across his face.

“Alright, whatever. Yank the damn thing out.”

Relieved, Jay fisted his fingers through the tread of the grate, braced his feet, and yanked. The grate resisted for a half second before it tugged free of the ceiling, old plaster crumbling down around it. Jay tossed the grate out into the hall and grinned up at her, deeply grateful that there wasn’t anything blocking his view of her face anymore.

She blinked at him. One, two, slow blinks. And he realized he’d been wrong. She wasn’t beautiful. She was good looking. Downright sexy. Not quite pretty. But just, damn, majorly sexy.  She had a defined bone structure and plush lips. Her green eyes against her tan gold skin was a devastating combo. He cleared his throat as some of her black hair tumbled through the vent toward him. He badly wanted to bring his hand to the ends, play in her hair’s silkiness. But he, of course, didn’t.

She continued to blink at him, her mouth coming slightly open, before she ducked away from the hole. He heard some rustling around before she appeared again.

“Here,” she shoved a cheese stick and a hardboiled egg down through the grate and into his outstretched hand.

Jay’s mouth watered as he looked at the food. He really was hungry but… “Seeing as you’re being so nice to me, I find it incredibly difficult to be honest with you about something.”

“What’s that?” she asked, cocking her head to one side.

He grinned up at her. “I’m vegan.”

“Oh Jesus,” she rolled her eyes again. “You’re one of those? Gimme my food back.”

Not able to stop grinning, he held the food out of arm’s reach and sat down under the hole in the ceiling. “No way. Trapped in a hurricane is a perfect excuse to break veganism for an evening.”

She’d been smiling, but the words trapped in a hurricane immediately wiped the smile off of her face.

He could have kicked himself.

“Hey!” she said in an outraged voice as she narrowed her eyes at his pile of Clif Bars in the corner. “You saved yourself all the macadamia nut ones and you gave me all the crappy mint chips?”

Jay grinned up at her. “I’m nice, but I’m not a saint.”

She pursed her lips and looked like she was trying hard not to smile. Her expression tightened into concern as a loud gust of wind made the entire hotel shiver and creak.

“You said you’ve been in a hurricane before?” Her voice was small, but somehow still as tough as it was before.

He nodded, carefully peeling the cheese stick. “Two in the Gulf of Mexico and one in Florida a few years back.”

She was quiet for a minute. “What did you mean by they come quick? When you said it before?”

“Oh. Well.” Jay leaned his head on the wall behind him. “I guess I meant that the kind of flooding that happens in a hurricane isn’t from rainfall. It’s from storm surge. And that kind of flooding is like a tsunami that doesn’t recede. It’s not really gradual. It’s just sort of not there and then it’s there. Until the storm breaks.”

“Jesus,” she whispered and her face disappeared from the hole.

Jay wasn’t sure if he should have lied or told the truth about that one. Either way, he took a bite of the cheese stick and couldn’t help the guttural groan of pleasure that tore out of him.

“What?” she asked, her face appearing at the hole again.

“Holy shit. I forgot how good cheese is,” Jay growled, looking up at her from where she sat.

She grinned and flared her eyebrows at him. “You remembered what you’re missing, huh?”

“Apparently. Look, you’re gonna wanna look away while I murder this egg. Things are gonna get a little messy down here.”

At that, she outright laughed and Jay got the strange sensation of wanting to lift his arms up in the air in triumph, maybe do a victory lap or two.

He hesitated, didn’t want to push too much while he was ahead, but found he couldn’t resist. “Will you tell me your name?”

She sighed as she sat back up, away from the hole. She glanced around the dim supply closet, the only source of light coming from all the way down the hall. And from the reflection off his blindingly blonde hair. Blonde men were not her type. Not in the least. She liked them lean and dark and suavely handsome.

This guy looked like a J. Crew model. And he had muscles on muscles. Not her thing. Not in the least. Which was why she’d been shocked into blinky, stunned silence when she’d finally gotten a good look at him. Because those eyes. Those eyes were killer. Sinatra blue. And the five o’clock shadow that told her the blond was real. It wasn’t from a bottle like so many surfer bros.

It would really, really be better if she could just think of him as a surfer bro. Being an active part of the surfing world for the last seven years, she’d become extremely adept at dodging surfer bros. They were always a dangerous mix of cocky and ignorant. High on themselves while being falsely humble. She was not a fan.

But this guy didn’t quite give her that vibe. He’d left Clif Bars for her. Gone to a more dangerous part of the hotel because she’d asked him to. And he hadn’t just said, ‘what’s your name.’ He’d asked if she would tell him. Like the name wasn’t even so important. It was the telling part that he wanted. The trust part.

She gritted her teeth together and rolled her eyes at herself. What was the harm in it? The guy was a floor away from her. And if he started freaking her out, she could lock herself in the storage closet for a few days. Wait out the storm until help came.

“Mari,” she said into the empty room, so quietly that she thought the raging wind outside might just carry it away.

“Good name,” he said, clapping eggshell off his hands. “Short for something?”

“Yeah.” She didn’t say any more.

And neither did he.