Page 35 of Sea La Vie (The Outer Banks #1)

Lainey

M y alarm goes off, scaring both me and Midge.

Midge growls, then curls back up at the end of our makeshift bed inside the cabin.

I stand up and stretch, my back sore from the lumpy sleeping arrangements.

It’s chilly this morning, my breath visible in a little haze as I breathe into my hands to warm them up.

When I step onto the dock, I let out a little sigh of relief, the sight of stars instead of clouds comforting.

My weather app had promised perfect conditions the thirty or so times I had checked it on the way up and in the middle of the night.

The short walk over to the marina’s office loosens my limbs and clears my head from my sleep-induced haze, my mind focused on the tournament now that I am registered. The coffee I grabbed inside the office is strong, probably the remnant’s from yesterday’s pot.

“Lainey!” The door to the office swings open and I turn around to find dad’s biggest competitor, Paul, from the A-Fish-Ionado.

Paul and my dad went to high school together and competed neck in neck in everything: sports, grades, and even women. Supposedly, when my dad asked my mom out on a date, Paul became incredibly bitter because he was also planning on asking her out.

Paul’s always been a bit more showy with his earnings than dad has.

His boat is decades newer, and his reels and equipment are shinier.

Today, he’s wearing a brand new Columbia Professional Fishing Gear ensemble, probably something sponsored to post on his Instagram and make thousands of dollars by doing so.

I glance down at my own tattered sweatshirt and jeans and wonder if maybe Fruit of the Loom would be interested in sponsoring me.

“I didn’t know Archer was joining the competition. I thought he was out for the season.” Paul pours himself a cup of coffee from the same pot and grimaces when he brings it to his lips.

My face flames, unsure of what to say. “He is out for the season,” I confirm. “But, I’m taking his place.” I step aside, allowing Paul space at the counter to register.

He cocks an eyebrow then crosses his arms, leaning against the counter. “Your brothers are with you, then?”

I accidentally drop my packet of tournament info and papers scatter across the floor. I shuffle them all together with my foot and bend down hastily to scoop them up, all while Paul watches from above, a smirk on his face.

“I’ll see you out there,” I say, avoiding his scrutinizing gaze as my face flushes. “Good luck.” I scurry out the door, praying against all odds that this doesn’t make it back to my family before I’m able to win and tell them what I did myself.

By the time I make it back to the boat, Midge is awake and barking at me from the helm, no doubt telling me what has already been nagging at me in the back of my mind…

that this might not be my best idea. With one motor down, and no one knowing exactly where I am, so much could go wrong.

But honestly, I’ve been fine all season. It’s just one more run.

For the briefest of seconds, I consider pulling out and going back home. Then, the sound of a megaphone reminding all participants that there are only ten minutes until the start of the tournament makes me think otherwise.

I pour the last of the kibble into Midge’s bowl, hoping that’s enough for her to forgive me, then turn on our one remaining motor. It sputters to life, and I back out of the dock, adding Sea La Vie to the line of competitors.

The sun’s beginning its journey across the sky, leaving a pink and orange trail in its path, and I’m momentarily mesmerized by the beauty of it. I could see a thousand sunrises and never get used to them, each unique in its own way.

I drop the anchor, considering this as good a place as any, and start dropping my lines, too.

In the distance, I can see a handful of my competitors scattered across the horizon.

One is most definitely A-Fish-Ionado , its bright red hull a stark contrast to the dark water.

A shiver crosses my body, and I frown. It should be warming up.

When I glance at the sky, a big fat rain drop lands on my forehead and rolls to the bottom of the boat.

My radio crackles from inside the cabin, and I rush to pick it up, narrowly avoiding Midge who’s curled up and scowling at me from her perch on the floor.

“Looks like a nasty one’s coming,” I hear crackling through the tiny speaker.

“Didn’t see this one coming,” I hear another voice say.

“You’re going in already Bouy oh Bouy ?” I recognize that voice—Paul’s.

Jim from Bouy oh Bouy comes over the speaker. “I learned my lesson last season when I just about lost half my crew in an unexpected storm. I’m headed back in. Good luck to the rest of ya.” A blue boat putters across the horizon in the direction of the harbor.

“Anyone else?” Paul asks. I glance toward my one working motor and consider playing it safe. “ Sea La Vie ? You headed in, too?”

I pick up the radio and clear my voice. “I can’t beat you from the docks, Paul. You’re going down.”

Several voices come through the speaker then, with disses and chuckles toward Paul. He doesn’t respond, but I see his boat inch a little farther in the opposite direction of the dock, a clear indication I just declared war.

Hours tick by, the rain pelting down harder and harder with each passing second.

My teeth clatter, barely audible over the sound of the wind.

Another shiver works its way through me as I watch all but Paul’s boat and another one I don’t recognize head back in.

I’ve done pretty well these past few hours, catching enough fish to make a pretty great payday, even if I don’t win.

Paul crackles through my speaker again, this time his voice with a different air to it. He almost sounds…concerned. “You going in yet, Lainey?”

“No,” I say stubbornly. “I already told you, I’m winning this thing.”

“Water…getting…rough,” Paul says but I only hear every other word, my radio going in and out.

I tug my jacket around me a little tighter as a wind gust whips past me, ocean water spraying my face.

For a moment, I’m distracted by the sound of my rod whizzing, and I spend the next few minutes pulling in another doozy of a fish.

When I toss it on the ice and finally look back up, there are no other boats to be seen.

“You ready to go home, Midge?” I ask. “I think we’ve got a real shot at winning this.

” Midge doesn’t respond and I find her snoring softly in the cabin when I peek in on her.

I make my way to the back of the boat, the waves making my footing unsteady, and pull on the anchor rope.

It comes up surprisingly easy, and a sinking feeling settles into my stomach.

When the end of the rope comes into view, there’s no anchor attached to it.

I know I tied the knot securely around the anchor.

I even double checked it, didn’t I? I swallow down my fear, sure that I haven’t drifted that far in such a short amount of time.

I rush back into the cabin, the waves only becoming stronger and angrier, crashing into the boat repeatedly, and I tap on the GPS screen.

After studying it for a quick second, I see that I’m about three miles from where I originally dropped my anchor.

I turn the key to start the motor and wait to hear its trusty crank.

And wait…and wait some more. I pick up the radio and try to signal in a distress call.

It crackles and pops, but no other sounds fill the cabin.

I push the cabin door open against the wind, and a quick glance tells me what I don’t want to know.

The antenna must have broken with a particularly strong gust of wind.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I whisper.

A wave topples over the side of the boat right at that second, knocking me to the floor and filling the boat with a couple inches of water.

With shaky legs, I pull myself back up, only to be knocked down once again.

I cough and sputter, trying to swallow my remaining fear instead of any more seawater.

Within seconds, tears are running down my face, mixing with the saltwater of the ocean.

When I try to stand, my foot gives out and pain shoots through my body.

My stomach turns sour when I try to put weight on it.

I slide back into the cabin and shut the door firmly behind me while taking a few deep breaths.

“I made a mistake,” I tell Midge through sobs. “I shouldn’t have done this.”

Midge gets up from her makeshift bed and slides to the side of the boat with a whimper. We’re being tossed and shaken around like a Mentos dropped into a liter of soda and I’m waiting for our boat to explode into a million tiny pieces.

I promised my family I was fine going out here alone, but I’m about to be taken from this world in the very same way as my mom.

Another sob escapes from my lips. My mom died way too early, but she still had lived so much more of a life than me.

She was married, had kids, had a meaningful job that she loved—what have I done?

I have made a living making sure everyone’s needs are taken care of and became so focused on them, I lost what I wanted in the process.

Images of the garden I never got around to planting in that sandy, barren lot across town flash around my mind. I’ve wanted nothing more than to fill it with flowers of every variety since I can remember, but I’ve always found an excuse not to because someone else needed my time.

More images flash around of kids running around my legs on the beach, yelling for me, and calling me, “Mommy.” Tears are streaming down my face when I realize I’m missing out on all of this, but the image that passes through my mind that makes me cry the hardest is the image of my dad walking me down the aisle to meet my future husband.

When he turns to look at me in this dream or fantasy or premonition or whatever you want to call it, it’s what I’ve known all along.

It’s Tate.

But it’s never going to happen, because I’ve been so busy thinking about how badly I wanted to make my family proud, following in my mother’s footsteps and making sure this business stayed afloat, that I didn’t consider the bigger picture.

I glance down at my mom’s broken watch on my arm, and I swear I can hear her voice as clear as the wind whipping around the boat outside. “They’d be proud of you regardless, honey.”

I try to stand again, knowing I have to get off this boat and back to shore safely. There’s got to be something I can do. I take one step forward and pain shoots up my leg again, my vision filling with stars.

“Help, please help,” I beg but instead of a reassuring voice crackling through the speaker, I’m greeted with silence instead. Through blurry eyes, I slide back down to the floor and hold Midge tight.