Page 52

When I first pictured this trip, I’d smiled about the thought of Stella hurling me into the sea.

I’d been amused. It felt like poetic justice that she’d send me flying, and a part of me hoped that if the score was even, maybe we might be able to have a fresh start.

Being catapulted off a boat the size of the Lucky Strike is nothing to smile about I now know.

Especially if you are propelled by the fist of a longtime friend who now seems very likely to be a former friend or maybe even an enemy.

It hurts. My jaw, the rest of my body, all of it.

I feel like an absolute freaking idiot. Gus throws one of those orange lifesaver rings at me and even though it’s humiliating, I cling to that foam donut like my life depends on it while Gus pulls me toward the ladder by the attached rope.

I’m just glad that Stella and Zoe are still in town picking up fresh supplies and lunch and aren’t here to see this.

Stella loves pie, and we were out, and for that, I will forever be grateful.

I might recover from the embarrassment of getting my ass kicked by Ted, but I wouldn’t be able to overcome her hearing that conversation, seeing me lose my cool and act like an asshole, and in case that wasn’t enough, learning that I’ve been keeping things from her.

This is not new, keeping Ted’s secrets. It started in high school, when he’d gotten hammered, stolen and crashed that golf cart, pinning me underneath it in the pond, and then there was what went down with him last year in Iceland.

But the bankruptcy thing, I get it. Stella’s always relied on him, and being the benefactor has, in a lot of ways, become his identity.

Without money, he’s just a good-looking guy with a fancy family who makes a lot of impulsive decisions, sleeps around, and drinks too much.

Sure, he’s fun, but he has the privilege and protection to not give a shit about anything and to just fucking frolic through life.

It’s amazing how once someone starts acting like a jackass their charisma doesn’t seem so positive anymore, even if they’re one of your favorite people.

“Get him out of here,” Ted rages at Gus when I step back on the deck sopping wet.

“Teddy, man, calm down,” Gus says. “Catch me up at least. All I know is you guys were having a heated discussion and Huck went for an unplanned swim.”

I stretch my jaw. It’s sore, but it doesn’t feel broken. Gus catches this movement, and I watch understanding appear in his expression.

“Did you hit him?” he asks. “We don’t fight on the Lucky Strike . Those are the rules. Other crews fight, but not us. We’re a team.”

Ted shakes his head. “ We are a team,” he says, pointing a finger back and forth between himself and Gus. Then he points to me. “He’s not on our team.”

“What? Why? This season’s been great. He’s been picking up stuff really quick, helping out—”

“What world are you living in, Gus? You’re on another planet. This guy goes and takes Zoe’s spot diving every single time, and you don’t even seem to give a shit.”

Gus looks at me, lips pressed together. He tilts his head back. “Yeah, maybe I am distracted, but I’m not pissed at Huck. Zoe’s not going out because she’s pregnant; the doctor told us she’s not supposed to do any scuba diving.”

Ted’s face goes slack. “I didn’t know that. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Well, we were keeping it to ourselves for now, but it wasn’t like it was a mystery.

She’s been wandering around in those caftans when you know normally my girl likes sporting as little clothes as possible.

That should’ve told you something. She’s also been scarfing down saltines and guzzling ginger ale this whole trip.

I’m not shocked you didn’t pick up on it, to be honest. You haven’t exactly been yourself this time around, Ted.

You’ve been preoccupied and drinking more than any of us would consider healthy and borderline obnoxious.

So yeah, we didn’t feel like the timing was right to share our news.

You and Stella aren’t into change, something’s up with you, clearly, and this is a big change. ”

“Okay, but you told him ?”

“Zoe did,” I say. “I don’t think it was intentional. Anyway, it was probably easier to tell someone who wasn’t a core member of your crew. I don’t really matter.”

“True,” Ted says, and I hate that it stings worse than my jaw. “I guess it’s good that you filled in for Zoe, but that doesn’t change anything. I want you off my boat.”

Gus’s brow furrows.

I’d been avoiding Ted’s eyes up until this exact moment.

I freaking hate confrontation. Because of my dad, it makes me feel sick and threatened, and usually I just shut down and stare at the floor because that feels safer than seeing yourself reflected in the eyes of someone who thinks you’re terrible or worthless, or someone who was your friend and now they really just want to punch you in the face…

again. But I don’t see any of that when I look at Ted.

His eyes are glassy and red. His expression looks like a deflated soufflé I tried to make while baking my way through my writer’s block era—defeated and sad.

Broken.

I have no idea what to do.