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CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

HANK

“Gilligan, is that you?” Angie asks with a shaky voice, and I wake from the sleep I’ve fallen into.

She steps into the hospital room. I’m lying flat on my back, wearing one of those paper blue dresses, and I’m receiving fluids through an IV.

“Angie. Thank god.”

My twin hurries over to me. She’s in her pajama sweatpants and a plain gray t-shirt, clearly having rushed here from sleep.

My sister throws her arms around me. “Hanky.”

We hold each other for a minute, squeezing tight. I get all choked up, and when Angie releases me, she’s wiping her eyes.

“I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“I’m sorry to scare you.”

“I knew you weren’t dead because of the psychic twin thing,” Angie tells me.

“Sure.”

“But I’ve never been so worried.” She glances at the machines. “Are you okay? Do you need anything?”

I raise up a weak smile. The machines are beeping, and everything is so clinical and sterile. It’s unsettling after the island, but I feel far better now that Angie is here.

“Mom and Dad are on the way and grabbing a couple of things. I think I’m okay, overall. Although I can’t seem to brush my teeth enough.”

Angie sits in a chair next to me. “You never can.” She takes my hand.

“I’ve been handling things at your condo, watering the plants and picking up your mail.

Although there’s so many damn plants, I’m really not sure.

Mom and Dad have been a wreck, Dad especially, ever since they got to town.

” She studies me for a moment. “I have a million questions for you, starting with what the hell happened?”

I nod as I sit up. It’s like I’m starting to feel better, the IVs having their effect, but that’s allowing me to notice all the ways my body hurts. “It’s a long story.”

“I’m sure. You were gone nearly three weeks.”

“It felt like months.” I bury my face in my hands. “I think I started to crack around day two.”

“I’m curious about day one.”

“After I walked down the forbidden deck, I found Elliot.”

Angie nods. “Mr. Peterson’s son who went overboard with you.”

“He was on the life rafts. I tried to help him back to the deck, we each pulled a wrong rope, and something collapsed. It probably set off an alarm, and there must be cameras, so I imagine you know all this.”

“Unfortunately, no. The casino boat was apparently negligent in their safety standards. Criminally so, possibly. It’s part of the whole scandal. No one noticed what had happened until we were nearly back to Seattle, when I finished at the poker table and couldn’t find you.”

“That’s…” A machine beeps next to my ear. “What whole scandal?”

Angie shakes her head. “It doesn’t matter. You need to rest.”

I tighten my brow. “Seriously. What scandal?”

After a moment, she sighs. Angie reaches for the remote. I haven’t turned on the TV, and when she clicks it, it’s set to cable news.

...early reporting, the island belongs to a baron from the United Kingdom. Oh, correction. I’m hearing he’s a baronet.

My face is plastered on the screen. It’s my work photo with the bad smile, and next to me, there’s a snapshot of Elliot on the beach wearing a T-shirt that reads Mermaid Fan Club .

“There’s been a lot of speculation,” Angie tells me. “Like maybe there was a fight, or some kind of oceanic heist you got wrapped up in where you had to take Elliot hostage. I don’t know. It was just one of those things where everyone got obsessed with it.”

I grab the remote and click it off. “Everyone thinks I abducted Elliot?” I ask, aghast.

“A lot of people think a lot of things, if I’m being honest with you.”

I lean back against the pillows, wishing this weren’t the case. I wonder if Elliot has heard yet.

“Can I borrow your phone?” I ask Angie. “To send a text to Elliot.”

“Sure.” She hands it to me. “You both went through hell together, huh? What have you even been eating?”

There’s so much to tell her, but I need to take it one thing at a time.

“So much seaweed, I nearly turned into an urchin.”

I type in the number Elliot gave me and write out a brief message on the phone.

Hank: This is Hank on my sister Angie’s phone. Elliot can reach me here.

I can’t figure out how to end it. I want to say something more, but I don’t know what. All I can really make sense of is the fact that I’m used to Elliot being close, and I want to check on him.

I’m still processing the fact that he didn’t find the dock, but the frustration is mixed up in a million other conflicting emotions. I want him here where I can see that he’s safe. Talk to him. Hold him.

I hurriedly send the message as it is and shove the phone back to Angie. “Thanks.”

“Hank!” my father announces from the door, and he and my mother come rushing in. They deposit grocery bags on the side table before throwing their arms around me from both sides of the bed.

“Our precious boy,” Mom says as she squeezes me.

When they step back, we all gaze at each other for a moment. My mother is in jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt from a craft conference, and my father wears a rumpled and unbuttoned dress shirt.

“An island!” Dad says, rubbing his hands. “You were hiding on an island.”

Mom wipes a tear from her eye. “I’ve never been so frightened in my life. But I knew, if anyone had the wits to survive such an ordeal, it would be you.”

I take their hands. “Thank you,” I say. “I hate that I put you through that. But I’m okay now.”

Angie takes one of the grocery bags and rummages through it. “Let’s see. Razor blade. Hypoallergenic shaving cream. Small scissors. And we’ve got Q-tips, a manicure kit, moisturizers and wet wipes.”

I rub my itchy face. “I’ll be even more okay when I get rid of this beard.”

“Would you like me to help you into the bathroom?” Dad asks. He scratches his beard. “It’s nearly time for my monthly shave, too.”

“No.” I look at my family again, relief washing over me. “Right now, I just want to be here with you all.”

They pull up chairs and huddle close. A sense of love and belonging settles over me. Safe again, I ease back into the bed, and I begin to tell them what happened.