Page 78 of Too Far

Kylian is seated across from us, the bright blue and white light from his phone reflected in his square lenses.

As I mindlessly play with Nicky’s hair, my stomach gurgles. Loud enough, apparently, for Kylian to hear from his side of the boat, by the way his head snaps up at the sound.

“You hungry, Hot Girl?” Locke asks, grinning up at me with the first genuine smile he’s offered all night. His eyes hold a warmth and affection that not even debilitating pain can mask. The glow of the moon peeking out from the clouds once more shines on his eyebrow piercing.

I can’t resist stroking my fingers over it and massaging his temple. “Always,” I finally answer, looking up to gauge how far we are from home.

We’re halfway across the lake when my stomach growls again.

Nicky chuckles, his head bouncing against my thighs with his laughter. “I’m sure Cap has plenty of food waiting for us.”

We’ve kept Mrs. Lansbury away from the house as much as possible this week. The camera crew is in her way more often than not, flustering her with their presence.

Decker offered to cook tonight since he would be home first, but he didn’t mention what he was making.

“I hope it’s pasta. I could really go for pasta and meatballs tonight.”

Nicky squints, holding back a snicker. “There’s a ball joke in there somewhere, but I’m honestly too tired to make it.”

“Ha. Ha.” I would play punch him if he wasn’t in so much pain. Instead, I press my lips into a straight line and hit him with my most unamused stare.

“Who the hell is that?” Kylian demands, standing.

He’s fixated on something off in the distance, in the direction of the marina.

“Camera crew, maybe?” Kendrick suggests, glancing over his shoulder.

I crane my neck to look for myself. I don’t want to jostle Nicky, so I stay seated. From here, all I can make out is a small yellow light glowing on the water. It’s quite a way off, but it appears to be increasing in size.

Shrugging, I drop my attention back to Nicky and stroke his hair again. “Looks like another boat or PWC.”

Kylian widens his stance and studies his phone. “No one new is scheduled to arrive until seven tomorrow morning.”

The feature coverage is meticulously scheduled, so as not to overcrowd the dock or interfere when we are coming and going for class and other commitments.

“Those fuckers are past the buoys now.”

Nicky sits up at that.

“The fuck?”

Kendrick alternates between watching the water ahead and peeking over his shoulder while the rest of us are focused on the singular source of light. Which, now that I’m paying attention, does seem to be traveling toward us at a fast clip.

A hushed silence blankets the group as we watch the light get closer at an alarming rate.

It’s not until my chest starts to burn that I realize I’m holding my breath.

As I exhale, two things happen: the other vessel’s engine revs, as if it’s accelerating, and Kendrick lets out a string of curses.

“Get a life jacket on her. Now.”

Kylian is by my side before I can blink, shoving one arm into a bright orange vest that he procured from under the seats. On my other side, Nicky does the same.

“What’s wrong?” I whisper, popping to stand between the guys.

No one answers.

“What’s happening?” I demand. The words come out in a shrill panic.