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“Music, Stella. We need some jams.” He finds a playlist on his phone and drops the device into an empty mug so the sound of steel drums fills the galley.

Huck and I watch as Teddy puts on a one-man show, head down, feeling the beat, shifting between merengue and extremely bad popping and locking around the small space.

Halfway through the second song, Ted snags me around the waist.

“Dancing, like treasure hunting, is not a spectator sport, Stella Moore. Since when have you ever watched from the sidelines?” he shouts in my ear. “Let’s salsa.”

He’s uncoordinated and handsy, but the exuberant grin on his face is hard to resist—it always is. I give in. It is more fun to dance.

“If we both live until we’re ninety, we definitely both need our bodies. We can dive and dance until we die.”

I think of earlier today and how far Teddy pushed it. How close it came to having to make a choice, save myself and leave him behind or sink together. The thought, or maybe the combination of Ted’s chaotic dancing and rum and too much sun, makes my head swirl.

“You’re an idiot,” I say, smiling. My voice is warm, of course it is.

Teddy’s my oldest, closest friend. But I’m also angry at him.

His breath is hot and reeks of rum, his bare chest is sweaty and close, that hand of his is sloppy, too low on my waist. He’s still holding his cup of rum, and some spills down the back of my shirt.

Huck is not dancing; I can feel him watching us.

“I need some air,” I say, and push away from Teddy.

He stumbles back, but barely misses a beat. “Suit yourself,” he says, takes a big swig of his drink, and goes harder with his dance.

I head up to the deck and face the sea, gripping the handrails.

I desperately need to clear my head. The stars are brilliant, infinite points of light against a squid-ink sky.

I take a deep breath, trying to pull in the fresh scent of ocean air, but instead all I smell is the spilled rum soaking my shirt.

“You okay?”

I don’t turn around. I’d felt Huck’s presence even before he spoke. His footsteps on the deck are different than everyone else’s, like gravity acts in some unique way on him.

“Not sure it was a great idea to leave Ted unsupervised,” I say.

“I did try to keep him entertained, but he gets a little frisky when he’s dancing. I wasn’t a fan of his wandering hands.”

I rotate to see if he’s joking. He is not.

“That’s valid. Did he spill rum on your shirt too?”

“That honor he saved for you, I guess. Though I suspect his cup was empty by the time I got to him.”

I nod.

“You don’t have to worry. He started to wind down on his own and went back to his bunk. It was a pretty eventful day. I imagine he’s going to sleep hard.”

“ Eventful ’s one way of putting it,” I say, trying not to scoff.

“Well, eventful sounds a little less bad than terrifying . I’m trying to be a breezy guy here.”

“ Were you terrified?” I ask.

He dips his head. “Were you?”

“Maybe a little. I kept thinking about that time in Iceland when you asked me if I had some notion of how I was going to die. It felt like maybe I’d jinxed myself.”

“Yeah.” He runs a hand through his hair. “I thought about that. It scared me too.”

“Seems like Teddy’s theme for this trip is scaring his friends.”

“Yup.” He twists his hands around the deck rails. “I was really worried about you.”

I can’t help myself, I do scoff at this.

“I’m serious.”

“I can’t imagine why. We hardly know each other. I’m nothing to you.”

“C’mon, Stella, you can’t actually believe that’s true.”

I close my eyes. “I didn’t want to talk about this. I was fine with a truce, but you keep bringing it up. It’s like I can’t be in a kitchen with you without you muttering something or other about my opinion or my personal safety and how they matter to you. And what about the book?”

“Have you finished it yet?” His expression almost looks hopeful, which makes me more exasperated.

“No, and I’m not going to. I guess that makes us even. Both of us don’t finish the things we start.”

“You’re talking about Iceland.”

“Forget it. I’m talking about nothing.” I sigh. I’d vowed not to bring this up again.

“You’ve never been nothing, Stella, not to me. And Iceland wasn’t nothing.”

I won’t look at him. I can’t. I focus on the water sloshing against the stern.

“I know I still owe you a real explanation about that.”

I turn to him. “You really don’t. It’s like I said, we’re both here for treasure and work. That hasn’t changed.”

“I still think about it,” Huck says.

I don’t know if it’s the rum or the motion of the boat on the waves, but I suddenly feel off-kilter.

“I still think about you. About us.”

I shake my head. “I don’t think we should talk—”

Huck turns to me. “I’m so sorry, Stella.

I can’t even find the right words to explain how much I regret what I did.

It seemed like I was doing the right thing at the time.

I thought I was only hurting myself. I would never want to hurt you.

I need you to know that. I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t deserve forgiveness, and I won’t even ask for it.

I just need you to know where I stand. You will always be important to me. ”

I try to muster up some kind of response. One that makes me seem tough and not wounded, one that slices to his core…except, I make the mistake of looking at him. Of seeing him. His normally pale eyes are dark, soft. He looks, I don’t know, remorseful, broken? His brows knit together.

“Okay,” I say.

“Okay?” He reaches out and tucks a windblown strand of hair behind my ear, and I sigh.

“Let’s just leave it at that. We have better things from the past to focus on. We found a grappling hook today.” I bite my lip.

For a second, Huck looks like he wants to kiss me, and I think back to two truths and a lie. If he were to pull me in…I don’t want to push away. He hurt me before. He said he didn’t mean to, he only meant to hurt himself. I can’t understand this, but I know he’s being honest.

“That means we could have found it, right? The San Miguel , the Stolen Treasure…what you’ve been looking for? So the Heart must be somewhere nearby?”

I swallow. Unsteady. I feel unsteady. The way Huck is looking at me, like us finding treasure is the best thing that’s ever happened in his whole life.

It makes me want to let him break my heart all over again.

A strong breeze kicks up and the boat bobs awkwardly in the surf.

I trip forward against Huck, and my hands land on his chest. His hands catch the small of my back, steady and sure.

Inside me something that I thought was lost glimmers.

I believe in one-in-a-billion odds and never giving up.

Maybe that’s why I think just for an instant that this time could be different.

No.

I stumble back from him. It can’t. I can’t.

I cling to the railing tighter and face into the wind again.

“It means we’re close.”