Page 40 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart

beyond the sea

I sprint down the stairs toward the commotion, my heart hammering against my ribs. Jameson follows close behind, our unfinished moment evaporating with a single shout.

“You’ve been lying to me for months !” Robbie’s voice cracks with fury as we reach the main deck. He’s standing near the coolers, his whole body trembling with rage. Adam faces him, shoulders slumped in defeat.

The rest of our group forms an awkward semicircle—Dad and Damien holding fishing rods, Rita frozen mid-step with her book dangling from one hand, Matthew and Tyler hovering near the cabin entrance, ready to bolt.

“Robbie, let me explain—” Adam starts.

“Explain what? That you’ve been planning to abandon us? That you’ve been sneaking around applying to Stanford behind my back?” Robbie’s hands ball into fists. “We had a plan, Adam. The three of us. Together.”

“Plans change,” Adam says quietly.

“Not like this!” Robbie whirls around, his gaze landing on me with devastating accuracy. “Did you know?”

My stomach drops to my feet. I can’t lie to him. Not now. “Yes.”

The betrayal that flashes across his face will haunt me forever. “How long?”

“Since early summer.”

“Early summer.” He laughs bitterly. “That’s great. Really great. My brothers have been keeping secrets from me all summer.” His eyes sweep the deck. “Who else knew? Rita?”

Rita takes a step forward. “Robbie?—”

“Just answer the question!”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Hart?”

Jameson shifts beside me. “Yeah, man. Kevin told me, but?—”

“Unbelievable.” Robbie’s voice goes dangerously quiet. “Matthew? Tyler?”

“We had no idea,” Matthew says quickly. Tyler nods in agreement.

Robbie runs both hands through his hair, messing it up worse than any pool dive ever could. “So let me get this straight. My brothers, my best friend, and the girl I—” He cuts himself off, jaw clenching. “Everyone I trust most in the world has been lying to me.”

“We weren’t lying,” I protest. “We were?—”

“You were what, Kevin? Thinking I was too stupid to handle the truth? Too fragile?” His voice rises again. “Or did you all enjoy having your little secret?”

“That’s not fair,” Adam says.

“Fair?” Robbie rounds on him. “You want to talk about fair? Fair would have been telling me the day you decided to apply. Fair would have been including me in conversations about our future instead of making decisions that affect all of us without saying a word!”

Dad steps forward. “Boys, maybe we should?—”

“No!” Robbie backs away from all of us. “I don’t want to hear it. Not from any of you.” He looks at Rita, and something in his expression hardens further. “And you can forget about dating. I don’t date liars.”

Rita’s face crumples. “Robbie, please.”

“Save it.” He turns to Jameson next. “We’re done too. I don’t need friends who keep secrets.”

“Come on, man,” Jameson tries. “Kevin was in an impossible position.”

“No. Kevin chose his position. You all did.” Robbie’s voice breaks completely. “I thought I knew you people. I thought we were family. Friends. Whatever. I’m done. I don’t want to talk to any of you.”

“Robbie…” Adam reaches for him.

“Don’t!” Robbie jerks away. “Especially not you. You’re my big brother. We’re supposed to be a team, and you’ve been planning your escape route.”

“I’m not escaping.”

“Aren’t you? California, Adam. That’s about as far as you can get from here without leaving the country.

” Robbie’s eyes are filled with unshed tears.

“Were you ever going to tell me? Or were you going to show up one day with your acceptance letter like, ‘Surprise, I’m abandoning our entire life plan!’”

The boat rocks gently, but it feels as though the whole world is splintering. Everything that was perfect five minutes ago now lies in ruins around us.

“I need space,” Robbie says, his voice hollow now. “I can’t stand to look at any of you right now.”

He stalks toward the stern, as far from the rest of us as he can get on a boat. We all stand frozen, watching him go.

“Well,” Ethan says into the horrible silence. “This is awkward.”

“Ethan,” Damien warns.

“What? It is!”

Rita collapses onto the nearest bench, her book landing on the deck beside her with a dull thump.

There’s no drama in her crying—it’s silent at first, her shoulders shaking, hands clamped over her mouth, trying to hold in a scream.

Then the tears fall, streaking her cheeks and dripping off her chin and onto her clothes.

For once, she has nothing witty or biting to say, and that, more than anything else, is how I know the damage is real.

Adam leans against the boat railing with his whole body hunched forward. His jaw is set hard, and his eyes are glassy and haunted.

Jameson stretches a tentative hand toward mine, fingers brushing my wrist, but I flinch away. I can’t do comfort right now, not when it’s completely undeserved.

For a while, no one moves, no one breathes. We might as well be on the moon, isolated and weightless. The wind has died down, and the sunlight has turned cold, reflecting off the water in harsh, blinding patches.

Suddenly, I wish I were back on stage, where lines are predictable and the ending is written down in the script.

I sink onto the deck, knees pulled to my chest and stare out at the endless blue. Every second that ticks by without Robbie on this side of the boat is another reminder of how badly we’ve all messed up.

“Should someone go after him?” Tyler asks quietly.

“Give him time,” Dad says. “He needs to process.”

Process. Like Robbie’s some kind of computer that just needs to reboot. Like we haven’t shattered his trust.

I catch Adam’s eye, and the guilt there mirrors my own. We did this. We broke our brother.

The splash cuts through the air like a gunshot. For a split second, our brains refuse to process what we’ve heard. And then my voice rips through the air, shrill and raw. “ROBBIE!”

I tear down the slippery deck, palms smacking into slick fiberglass as I scramble toward the stern. I catch flashes of people out of the corner of my eye—everyone sprinting, colliding, knocking over a cooler in the mad dash to get to Robbie.

My feet slide out from under me, and I slam into the railing hard enough to leave a bruise. I almost go face-first over the side, but I snatch hold of the cold metal and hang there, gasping, arms trembling.

Behind me, Rita screams, her voice splintering into hiccuped sobs between each shout. “Robbie! Robbie, get back here! Robbie, please!” She’s running up the side, nearly tripping herself, her cheeks still streaked with tears.

Dad’s hand claps down on my shoulder, half steadying, half pulling me out of the way to take command.

I peer over the railing and see the water churning in a frothy mess.

Then, maybe twenty feet from the boat, Robbie’s head pops up, his wet hair plastered to his skull, arms slicing the water with reckless energy.

He’s swimming with the kind of power I’ve only seen when he wants to beat Adam in a race, but this is different.

He’s not trying to win. He’s trying to escape.

“Shit,” Adam mutters, and then he’s yelling, “Robbie! Come back here!”

But Robbie either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care. He’s already doubled his distance from the boat, swimming perpendicular to our course, away from the marina, away from everyone. A surge of horror punches me in the gut. There’s nothing out there except open water.

I’m about to vault over the side myself when Jameson appears at my elbow, eyes narrowed and focused on the water.

“He’ll cramp,” he says, more to himself than anyone else.

“That water’s freezing.” He’s already working the orange life ring loose from the bracket by the rail, fingers flying.

“Kill the engine!” he yells to Damien, who’s already halfway to the controls.

Rita is on her knees now, her hands pressed hard against the deck. “Don’t let him go under, don’t let him go under,” she repeats like a prayer that’s punctuated by little gasps as she tries to catch her breath.

Behind us, Matthew and Tyler are shouting, their voices overlapping in panicked chaos.

“He’s not even wearing a vest.”

“Somebody has to go after him!”

Dad’s bark cuts through. “Stay put—nobody else goes overboard!”

Adam’s already got his flip-flops and shirt off, practically shaking with the need to launch himself after our brother. I can read the calculations in his head. If I dive now, will I catch him before he gets too far? If I miss, does he drown?

Jameson doesn’t hesitate, though. He hooks the life ring over his shoulder, backs up a few feet, and in one perfect, athletic motion, runs for the rail and leaps.

For a split second, he’s silhouetted against the sky, arms outstretched.

Then, he plunges into the lake with such force that we all wince.

The life ring follows, dangling from its tether as Jameson surfaces, shakes water from his eyes, and immediately powers after Robbie with deep, confident strokes.

Robbie’s still going, but when he hears the second splash, he glances over his shoulder.

His face is a mask of panic and determination, mouth working as he sucks in desperate breaths, but his strokes are getting ragged.

He’s not trained for this. He’s always been faster than me in a pool, but I know open water is a different monster.

Jameson closes the gap with terrifying speed. “Robbie!” he calls, but Robbie swims harder, legs and arms churning in a frantic rhythm.

I want to scream at him to stop, to grab the ring, but my mouth is stuck open and nothing comes out.

Jameson finally catches up, grabs Robbie around the waist, and they both disappear in a mess of flailing limbs and water. For an awful second, neither comes up. My lungs seize, and my heart stops beating. Black spots dance before my eyes.