Page 1

Kat

T he boat rocked back and forth with an intense force, causing my body to sway uncontrollably.

I gripped onto the sticky, weathered vinyl of the bench seat, feeling its rough texture beneath my fingertips.

The pungent smell of fish lingered in the air, mingling with the scent of diesel fumes.

As my heart raced, the rhythmic thumping echoed loudly in my ears, intensifying the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

My brother was to blame for this.

Okay. That’s not completely fair. Todd was fulfilling his fiancée’s lifelong dream by orchestrating the wedding she had always envisioned. And since his beautiful bride was my best friend, I couldn’t fault him for that.

Although I was excited about the wedding, I would have preferred a more accessible location, one that didn't require traveling by boat to an island in the middle of one of the Great Lakes.

The ferry ride to Mackinac Island was supposed to be a scenic and enjoyable experience.

With promises of stunning views of the crystal-clear turquoise waters of Lake Huron, the gentle sway of the boat, and the refreshing breeze, the tourist guides build anticipation for a unique island adventure.

What they don’t tell you about is what happens when storms are encroaching.

The sky and the water both become increasingly gray, merging into a single, shadowy expanse that makes it impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.

Waves were growing, and the ferryboat, along with my stomach, bobbed violently in the increasingly rough water.

The mental picture of the ferry capsizing sent a tidal wave of anxiety crashing over me, unleashing the chilling memories I had fought so hard to bury. Squeezing my eyes shut, I pressed my palms against my face, desperate to block out the unwanted images that flooded my vision.

Lost in my own personal torment, I was completely oblivious to the individual who had taken a seat next to me until his resonant voice broke through the cacophony that was raging in my ears.

“Hey, Kit. Are you ready for this wedding?”

My eyes popped open as recognition struck, then I inwardly groaned. Owen Stanton. My brother’s best friend. Bane of my existence. His charm was undeniable, his maddening presence a constant torment, yet he remained unattainable, a phantom my heart couldn't release.

He sat next to me on the bench seat, his large and powerfully built frame taking up a disproportionate amount of the available space.

The brown suede jacket, which I had once coveted as a teenager, fit snugly against his broad shoulders, a stark contrast to my memory of it.

He wasn’t a boy anymore. With a light layer of scruff covering his square jaw, he looked rugged and handsome . . . and all man.

“Kit?”

The nitwit. The sting of his insult lingered, and I couldn't stop my mind from reconstructing the scene, playing the cruel words over and over. I was fourteen years old, while he was sixteen. A girl on the cusp of finding her courage to approach the boy she’d crushed on for years.

I had intended to share my deepest emotions, but before I could lay myself bare, I was met with cruelty, and my heart was shattered.

His words, sharp and cruel, echo in my mind to this day, even though I had only heard them once.

Kit the nitwit.

Owen was the only one to call me Kit instead of Kat.

I foolishly imagined that he felt something different about me, that I held a unique place in his heart.

I would smile whenever he used that nickname, savoring those moments of playful affection.

Until I heard it paired with the insult.

What was once a sweet and endearing nickname, "Kit," now caused me to shrink back in revulsion, producing a physical cringe with each utterance.

“What,” I growled, the nickname a sharp, unwelcome echo in my mind causing my teeth to grind against each other.

His brow furrowed as he registered my unfriendly response.

His gaze lingered on me for a moment longer than necessary, making me squirm under the weight of his scrutiny.

The gray blue of his eyes was unwavering, and the intensity of his stare made me feel like he was seeing right through me.

My heart clenched with regret, the sting of my unkind tone lingering.

Years had passed since we last met, and the first words that escaped my lips were a harsh whisper of anger. That wasn’t like me.

“I asked if you were excited for the weekend?” he replied, his voice laced with amusement, obviously letting me off the hook for my uncalled for attitude.

“Of course. This wedding has been a long time coming.”

“It has.” The anticipation of our friends’ upcoming nuptials brought a shared smile to our faces. But his next words had my smile slipping. “I understand we’ll be working closely together this weekend.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re the maid of honor, right?” I nodded. “And since I’m the best man, our job is to make sure this wedding goes off without a hitch.”

“So, how does that translate into us needing to work closely together?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you did. That’s just what Tria told me.”

Ugh. Tria. My best friend and brother’s fiancée. She’d always known of my foolish crush on Owen. This was her, meddling again. Her delirious happiness with Todd led her to believe that everyone else should be as happy as she was.

“I’m not sure there will be much left for us to do. There's no need for close collaboration.”

Owen shrugged before shifting in his seat to face the front. “If you say so.”

I would have replied with something snarky but at that moment, the ferry pulled away from the dock.

The rocking of the boat became more pronounced as the angry waves slammed against it, producing a rhythmic, yet unsettling, creaking sound.

A cry of dismay threatened to break free from my lips as my fingers, again, gripped the edge of my seat with mounting tension.

“Did Todd ever tell you the real reason we missed your tenth birthday?” Owen asked.

The random question caught me off guard. “What?”

“Remember? We were so late to your birthday party, our parents were livid.”

“I remember Todd was grounded for a month.”

Owen chuckled sheepishly. “Yeah. Me too.”

“So, what happened?” I asked, my curiosity piqued.

I never knew why they skipped my party. It was my assumption that they were not interested in attending a party that was intended for “kids”.

Being two years older than me, I figured they thought my party would be childish and boring.

At the time, it hurt. I looked up to my big brother and his friends.

And the fact that they skipped out on my party stung.

“Remember Duke?”

I searched my mind for the name. No one came to mind . . . except . . . wait a minute . . . “Do you mean Farmer McCorkle’s horse?”

The McCorkle farm was right behind our homes, and the smell of manure and hay always wafted over our backyards, which were separated only by a thin line of trees and a dilapidated fence.

There were many times when we’d wake up to find Mr. McCorkle’s cows had slipped over the fence into our yards.

They seemed to love my mom’s garden the most. She had Farmer McCorkle on speed dial to report the trespassers.

Duke was the only horse at the farm. From my young perspective, he was an enormous and frightening creature.

And mean.

To get to our friends’ houses, we'd cut through the McCorkle property, but only if Duke, the hulking, white stallion, wasn't lurking in the shadows. The horse was very territorial and would react aggressively when people came onto his property.

“The one and the same,” Owen answered, a mischievous glint in his eye as he chuckled.

“What happened?” I could only imagine when it involved the two of them. The wild, reckless adventures they had as youngsters were the stuff of legends.

“Well, we were running late to get to your party.”

“So, you took the shortcut through the field,” I guessed.

“Yup. Big mistake.”

“Duke was out?”

“Yup. We didn’t see him at first. We thought we were home safe until that white blur came charging at us.”

I could picture it in my mind. If I saw that giant horse charging toward me, I would have peed my pants. “How did you get away?”

“We didn’t. The only thing we could do to get away was climb a tree.”

My laughter erupted, a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “No. Really?”

“Yup. Todd scurried up first, going as far as he could before the branches thinned out. I scrambled up the tree just in time, barely avoiding Duke's snapping jaws. That made Duke even more pissed off. He even kicked at the tree a few times. I’d never seen him so pissed.”

“That horse had issues with people being on his land. I’m surprised he tolerated the cows.”

“Guess he preferred four-legged creatures over the two-legged ones.”

“Unless your name was McCorkle.”

“Right. The control McCorkle had over those animals was impressive.”

“He’d call out their names, and they’d go running to him. Duke included.”

“It’s too bad his call to Duke came too late for us to get to your party.”

“How long were you stuck up in that tree?”

Owen shrugged. “A couple of hours. My butt grew numb from sitting on that branch. When McCorkle finally called Duke home, my legs were so dead, I could barely climb down. Todd was in just as bad a shape as me. We arrived at your house looking pretty rough. Our clothes were torn, and we were covered in sap, dirt, and leaves. I think our parents were angrier about the ruined clothes than they were about our own scrapes and bruises. And the fact we missed the whole party.”

“I can’t believe I never knew about this.”

“It wasn’t one of our finer moments.”

The giggle was so sudden and unexpected that it seemed to burst forth like a bubble. “I bet.” Once the bubble popped and the giggle was loose, it couldn’t be contained. The image of the two boys trapped by a horse in a tree kept playing through my mind, making me laugh even harder.

A sharp, jarring bump from the boat sent a shiver of fear through me, instantly sobering me up.

I blinked, shocked to find I was still on the ferry.

Owen’s story had taken me away. My mind was flooded with images, memories so vivid, that I couldn’t even register the rocking of the boat or feel any fear.

The ferry had docked, and a steady stream of people made their way off the ferry and onto the pier. I watched them go, my mind still buzzing from the shock, surprised that I hadn't completely fallen apart.

My gaze snapped to the man beside me, my mind racing.

He flashed his usual charming smile, the one that always made my heart skip a beat.

I peered at him more closely, hoping to glean more information from his expression.

Was there something behind that smile? Did he know my secret?

Had he told that story because he knew I was on the verge of freaking out?

Were his actions motivated by a desire to care for me?

I shook my head. That was impossible. Kit the Nitwit wishing for things that weren’t there again.

Once the final passengers had left, he rose to his feet and extended a hand towards me, his eyes twinkling with anticipation. “Shall we?”