Page 44

Thirty-Three

Stella

We wake after the storm to clear skies and mild seas.

I’m more tired than I’d like to be for a day of searching, but I’m not about to waste these perfect conditions just because I couldn’t sleep last night.

Zoe spent nearly twenty minutes cross-examining me about the events in the stairwell with Huck before she finally acquiesced and left me alone.

I didn’t have to lie. I honestly couldn’t tell her what that was between me and him, because I had no clue.

It was just the rain and the wind and his hands and a bunch of memories; rum and the way he pulled me back from a fall and drifted into my space, making me feel safe and dangerous at the same time; how he smelled like the beach and forest simultaneously, like lime and cedar; his wet shirt clinging to his chest and abs; those eyes so blue and soft as they looked at me.

I’d known the way he felt once.

I could almost remember his skin under my fingertips.

In that moment, want didn’t fully capture my state. I needed Huck.

Now, I need coffee. An entire pot, guzzled black while standing at the counter. It’s a biological requirement. I shuffle into the galley. Huck and Teddy clutch tin mugs of coffee in silence. Teddy’s wearing sunglasses in the kitchen and only acknowledges my presence with a lift of his chin.

“We had to brew a second pot,” Huck says.

“Oh.”

“It should be almost ready.”

Teddy shushes us both.

I ignore him. “What’s for breakfast?” I ask.

“Stella, for the love of god. Stop torturing me with your talking,” Teddy says. “My head feels like a grenade with a pulled pin.”

“Theodore, you are a full-grown adult,” I retort.

“If you’re going to mainline cheap rum until your boarding school roommate has to cut you off and put you to bed, then you’ve got to be prepared to face the consequences of your decisions.

I’m not going to tiptoe around all day in honor of your hangover. ”

“You are cruel,” Ted says. “I can’t take all the blame. Whose idea was it to play a drinking game?”

“Yours,” Huck and I say at the same time.

“Fine. I’m going up where it’s quiet to get ready for the dive.”

“No, you’re not,” I tell him.

He groans and lifts his sunglasses up to squint at me. “How many times have I dived hungover?”

“You know that’s not why I’m benching you. Yesterday was a full-blown shit show, Ted. You’re on the boat.”

Huck fills a coffee mug and slides it over to me wordlessly, along with a breakfast bagel sandwich that he’s just assembled. He’s staying out of it.

“I’m on the boat,” Ted says, like he’s mulling it over.

“You heard me.” I take a bite of the sandwich. It’s delicious. Huck’s toasted the bread in the frying pan with butter, giving it the perfect crunch.

“I paid for this boat.”

“All the more reason for you to enjoy it, then.” I hold out the sandwich for him. He gives in and takes a bite.

“I made one for you too, bud,” Huck says. He hands Teddy his own sandwich.

Teddy examines it. “You didn’t toast mine. Why does Stella get a toasty one and I get a limp bagel? Actually, never mind. This probably is not going to stay down long enough for it to matter.”

“On that note,” I say.

“I’m going to bring the rest of the breakfast up to Gus and Zoe,” Huck says. “Want to join me?”

I nod and follow him.

“I’m going back to bed for a bit,” Ted says, walking in the opposite direction. “Wake me up when you’re ready to dive.” He waves his bagel over his shoulder and a piece of egg falls out. He stoops to pick it up and pops it into his mouth. “Five-second rule.”

“That’s truly nasty,” I say.

“I heard that! Don’t fault me for my conservation efforts, grump.”

“Did you really not toast his bagel?” I ask Huck when Teddy is out of earshot.

“Of course I toasted it. I’m not a monster.”

“That’s a relief. He’d never let it go if he truly believed you gave my food special treatment.”

Huck laughs. “Really? The guy just ate off the floor, or did you forget?”

“Oh, he’s gross. I didn’t forget. But he also has a big thing about fairness.”

We start up the stairs. “To be honest, I’m surprised how good of a cook you are. I guess I shouldn’t be. You told me as much before. Lasagna, right?”

Huck looks back over his shoulder. “I told you I was a good cook? That’s embarrassing. I should’ve said that I like to cook. Who says that?”

“I think your exact words were ‘better than Eataly.’?” I grimace.

“So it gets worse. I must’ve blocked that out. Forgive me for that mortifying braggadocio? In my defense I was probably trying very hard to impress you.”

“You didn’t have to try.”

He stops abruptly to turn to me, and I nearly crash into him. “Really?”

“Oh, come on. You’re Huck Sullivan. It’s like Teddy told you, I’d read all your books.”

“I thought he was being ironic, or trying to embarrass you.”

“He does love to do that. No, I wish. I waited in line for the last Casablanca.”

He manages somehow to look absolutely flummoxed and charming, juggling the breakfast sandwiches and this new piece of information. His dark hair has fallen over his forehead, and I resist the urge to smooth it back for him. “No way.”

“I don’t know why I’m admitting this to you, but I’m a fan,” I confess. The corner of Huck’s mouth lifts, and I feel the need to correct myself. “I was a fan.”

He nods, smile receding, and I wish I hadn’t added the caveat. “That’s fair.”

“I shouldn’t have said that.”

“It’s fine, Stella. You don’t owe me anything, especially feeding my ego. Anyway, being a fan isn’t the same thing as knowing someone. A lot of the time it’s an artificial relationship, not genuine closeness.”

“Well, I’m sure you have so many that one doesn’t make a difference.”

“You’d be surprised.” I thought he might be flirting, especially after last night, but he isn’t. He’s retreated from me.

“What does that mean?” I ask, pushing open the door to the deck as he walks through with the breakfast delivery.

“It’s nothing. I guess I appreciate the support of my fans so much and know how lucky I am to have it, but also, it’s a lot of pressure.

Constantly being subjected to attention and opinions and judgment starts to wear on you.

Or maybe not on everyone, but it did on me.

I was primed for that. I just wanted to write books, but people would get irate about different plot lines or something a character said.

Some of them conflated my characters’ thoughts and actions with mine.

They only loved me when I wrote what they wanted.

When I didn’t, they hated me. I tried not to let it bother me.

All the DMs and emails, I ignored or shrugged off.

But I couldn’t avoid all my critics. Some were much closer.

” He’s staring at the deck. The breakfast sandwiches are probably getting cold.

I want to ask him if he’s talking about his dad, but before I get a chance, he adds, “But hey, that’s why therapy exists, right?”

I nod. We’re both silent for a long beat. “Thank you for the coffee and breakfast. You have no idea how much I needed it. I didn’t really sleep last night,” I say.

He looks at me. “Me either.”

Zoe comes over to us, her bright caftan billowing around her. “Tell me those are bagel sandwiches,” she says, “and I might fall in love with you.”

“I think that position is already occupied,” Gus says, snatching one of the bagels up. “Freaking delicious, man. Thank you.”

My face feels like it might melt off and slide down to the deck in a bubbling puddle of goo. I gape at Gus.

“ What? I meant she’s in love with me . But valid interpretation, Stell.” He laughs and takes a bite of his sandwich. “Weren’t you two getting it on in the stairwell last night?”

“Absolutely not,” I say.

“Noooo,” Huck adds, a faint flush peeking out from the neck of his polo shirt.

“There was some definite leaning.” He flattens his hand and then tips it at an angle to demonstrate. “Don’t you think, babe? There was means, opportunity, intent.”

Zoe doesn’t look up from her food.

“Honey?”

She stops chewing. “Don’t you dare ruin this bagelwich for me.”

“My god, I love this woman. She’s practically feral.”

“Don’t forget how glorious she looks in the caftans she’s rocking this season,” I say.

Zoe glances up at me. “The salesgirl called it a sophisticated muumuu. Very chic, very in.”

“You look gorgeous and very sophisticated in your muumuus,” Gus says, and presses a kiss to the top of her head.

“Gus, hurry up and eat. I want to get out there while the weather’s still mild. Teddy’s on deck duty, so, Zoe, you ready to get wet?”

She casts a glance over at Gus. He smiles broadly.

“We’re going back to the grappling hook site, right?

Why don’t just you, Huck, and I go? Someone should probably keep an eye on Teddy anyway, and we can easily make do with three in this smaller search grid.

As long as Zoe doesn’t mind supervising our friend. ”

“He is very hungover,” Huck says.

“And cheeky,” I add.

“Oh, all my favorite things.” Zoe grins. “You better find some good stuff today, guys.”

Gus finishes off his sandwich in a few bites and we start prepping for the dive.

I shuck off my cutoffs and T-shirt and drop them into a pile.

Huck pulls his polo over his head. His skin has darkened from a wintry parchment-color to a light tan, like that buttery bagel I just devoured.

Even in this short time, working on the boat has brought out the muscles of his back and abs.

He looks good. Not irresistible. Not like I want to run my tongue from neck to navel, or whatever.

This is entirely innocent appreciation of his physical form and nothing more except maybe a bit of mild amusement as he struggles to apply sunscreen to his upper back.

He twists and flails like a fish flopping around on a deck but with octopus arms. Except hot. A hot-ass fish.

Who made breakfast. And who I matter to…maybe. I sigh.

“Give it here,” I say, holding out my hand for the sunscreen. “You look ridiculous and you’re going to have burnt stripes all over you.”

“Was I really doing that bad?” he asks.

“Yes. The streaks look like the Northern Lights on your back.” I smooth the lotion onto his shoulders and lat muscles, trying to be businesslike about my application. It’s difficult; I shouldn’t have mentioned the Northern Lights.

Huck clears his throat gently. “Thanks.”

My hands glide over his back, down his spine. I love the way he feels, the way I feel touching him.

“I stand by my comment about the leaning,” Gus says, and I jump back.

“All set,” I announce too loudly. “Someone’s not getting sunburned today.”

Gus grins and pulls on his mask before stepping over the side and splashing in the water below. I take the excess sunscreen left on my hands and smear it on my face.

“Did you need me to get you?” Huck asks.

I shake my head. “I’m wearing a wetsuit today. Thanks, though.”

“Of course. Do you mind checking my tank?”

“Getting a little high maintenance, aren’t we?” I tease. “Anything else you need? Bonbons, a massage?”

Huck doesn’t laugh.

“Everything okay?” I ask. “I was kidding, by the way.”

He pushes a fin that’s lying on the deck with his toe. “Yeah, I know. I guess I’m feeling a little nervous after yesterday.”

“Totally understandable—that never should’ve happened.

That’s why Teddy’s staying out of the water today.

We shouldn’t have to be worried about preventable mishaps and he needs to fully grasp that he can never pull that shit again.

” He nods. I give his arm a light squeeze.

His entire body is tense. “We aren’t going anywhere near deep water today.

I promise. Gus and I will take good care of you. ”

“I believe you.” He doesn’t sound particularly convinced.

“Buck up, you,” I say, giving him a gentle shove. “You never know…we just might strike it lucky today.”