Page 41 of Notice Me, Jameson Hart

Then two heads break the surface, gasping for air.

Jameson has the ring under Robbie’s arm, pinning him in place, and he shouts something I can’t hear—the wind’s picked up, drowning out everything except the slap of water.

Something in his words must break through Robbie’s anger because he stops fighting.

Jameson brings them back to the boat several minutes later. Dad and Damien have the ladder down, and together, they haul both boys up. First Robbie, who won’t meet anyone’s eyes, then Jameson. They’re both soaked and shivering despite the heat.

“Robbie. Downstairs. Now.” Dad’s voice carries that particular tone that used to send us running as kids. His hand clamps onto Robbie’s shoulder, steering him toward the cabin. “We’re going to have a conversation about decision-making and nearly giving your old man a heart attack.”

They disappear below deck. The walls are too thick to make out words, but Dad’s raised voice carries up through the floorboards. Then Robbie’s, equally as loud.

Damien wraps towels around Jameson, who’s still dripping on the deck. “That was brave. Stupid, but brave.”

“Someone had to go after him.” Jameson’s teeth chatter slightly. His eyes find mine. “He’s hurting. People do dumb things when they’re hurting.”

My throat is too tight to speak. This boy—this beautiful, brave boy—jumped into the ocean for my brother. For my family. “Thank you,” I say.

He gives me a small smile. “You’re welcome.”

Rita hasn’t moved. She’s still staring at the spot where Robbie went under. More tears track silently down her cheeks. I wrap an arm around her.

“He didn’t mean it,” I tell her. “About not dating you. He’s?—”

“I know.” Her voice is tiny.

“We all made mistakes,” Adam says quietly. “But I made the biggest one. This is on me.”

The boat rocks gently, the depressing atmosphere stretching out until we’re suffocating in it. Matthew and Tyler have retreated to the far end of the deck, clearly wishing they were anywhere else. And Ethan’s gone uncharacteristically quiet.

“I’m going to check on them,” I say, needing to do something, anything.

But Adam stops me with a hand on my arm. “Let Dad handle it. That’s what he does best—knocks sense into us when we’re being idiots.”

He’s right. Still, every muffled shout from below makes me flinch. Robbie’s hurting, and we’re the ones who caused it. All of us, with our secrets and good intentions that turned out to be not so good after all.

Jameson shivers beside me, and I grab another towel from the stack Damien brought. As I wrap it around his shoulders, our eyes meet.

“We never finished our conversation,” he says softly.

A slightly hysterical laugh escapes me. “I think that’s the least of our problems right now.”

“Maybe. But still.” He catches my hand under the towel, hidden from view. “I want to be your boyfriend, Kevin.”

Suddenly, the only thing that exists is Jameson’s wet hand on mine. His words hang in the air, impossibly steady against the turbulence of the afternoon. I want to be your boyfriend, Kevin.

How is it possible for my heart to leap while the rest of my body wants to curl into itself and disappear?

Jameson’s thumb rubs slow circles against my knuckles, and the safety in that touch makes me realize that I should be happy.

I should be floating. This is the moment I’ve played out in a thousand imaginary rehearsals, the one where the dream boy picks me in front of everyone.

But none of those rehearsals ever happened in the middle of a disaster. None of them started with my brother trying to swim away from our family. None of them ended with every person I care about broken in different ways.

I think about Robbie, locked below deck with our father, arms crossed tight over his chest. I think about all the times I watched him get hurt in Pee-Wee football or wipe out at the skate park, how he always bounced up and made a joke before anyone could worry.

But here, there is no helmet for what transpired.

No pads, no trainer ready with ice packs and orange slices.

What we did to him isn’t the kind of thing you walk off.

The guilt gnaws at my stomach until there’s nothing left.

I squeeze Jameson’s hand harder, afraid that if I let go, I’ll drift off into the ocean.

Eventually, the shouting from below fades. There’s a long, empty pause. Then the cabin door opens, and Dad emerges alone. His expression gives nothing away, but there’s a tightness around his eyes that wasn’t there before.

“He’s okay,” he announces. “Stubborn as hell and probably going to sulk for a week, but okay.” His gaze lands on each of us in turn. “We’re heading back to the marina. This day’s over.”

Nobody argues. Damien moves to the controls, and the engine rumbles to life. The journey back takes ten times longer than the trip out, because we’re all lost in our thoughts. And at a time like this, that is a very dangerous place to be.

I keep replaying Robbie’s face when he realized we all knew. The betrayal. The hurt. The fury.

“Stop,” Jameson whispers from beside me.

“Stop what?”

“Beating yourself up. I can see it all over your face. You were trying to protect him.”

“We were trying to control the situation,” I correct. “And see how that turned out?”

The marina comes into view, a welcome sight after everything. As Damien expertly guides us into the slip, I spot Robbie through the cabin window. He’s staring at nothing.

“Give him time,” Dad says. “You boys have been through worse and come out stronger. This won’t break you.”

I want to believe him. But as we begin the awkward process of gathering our things and saying goodbye, I catch the way Robbie won’t look at any of us. Rita’s face twists in agony when he brushes past her without a word.

Jameson stands back, his eyes fixed on me in a way that makes my chest knot and spin at the same time. He wipes a bead of water from his brow and waits, not saying a word, as if even his breathing might disrupt the fragile peace hanging over the marina.

I try to find my voice and fail, so I settle for stepping in close and grabbing his hand, fingers threading between his. I never want to let go of this boy again, not after today.

He squeezes my hand, smiling, but there’s a nervous edge there too. “You don’t have to answer now,” he whispers, almost embarrassed. “I know today’s been a lot.”

“My answer is yes. I’ll be your boyfriend, Jameson Hart.”

He lets out a breath that’s half a laugh, half relief, and pulls me in, just for a second, our foreheads bumping together. I wish we could stay here all day, but the sound of Dad barking orders snaps us out of it.

Jameson releases my hand, but not before giving my palm one last squeeze. “I’ll text you.”

We file into the van in silence—Robbie in the passenger seat and me squeezed in the middle row between Adam, Rita, and the weight of everything left unsaid.

Dad turns the key in the ignition, and we roll away. I glance over my shoulder to see Jameson waving goodbye through the rear window.

I watch him until he’s a dot on the horizon.