Chapter Twenty-Five

I spend the next day in a haze. Rape? I can’t quite wrap my brain around the word. In the year we’d dated, he’d been emotionally controlling, sure, but physically abusive? No.

He never forced me into sex, and even though I participated out of obligation, I did it willingly.

I call Levi to see if he knows details but end up leaving a message. The next night he finally calls me back.

“Tell me everything you know,” I say by way of answer.

“Sorry I didn’t call you right back. My schedule’s been crazy busy.”

I blow out a frustrated breath. “It’s okay. So what’s going on? Who did he rape?”

“This is what I know. He’s been hanging around the high school’s football games on Friday nights.”

“That’s how we met.”

“I know. Dude’s twenty years old, and he’s scoping out the virgins. It’s gross.”

I shake my head. “Sad to say I fell for the whole older guy act.”

“All you girls seem to. Well, anyway, guess he’s been messing around with a sophomore. I’ve heard she wouldn’t put out and he forced her. I’ve also heard she put out, her dad caught them, and slapped Manny with statutory. Don’t know which story’s true though.”

The first time we had sex, he completely talked me into it. Convinced me we were in love and that’s what naturally came next.

How stupid I’d been. Me—smart, definitely not naive, and yet I’d still fallen for the whole ridiculous routine. Talk about being an idiot. Well, not again. “At least he’s in jail.”

“Actually, he’s out. He made bail.”

“How the hell did he make bail?”

“Who knows? One of his redneck friends. Listen, I’m back on the road, and Mom’s keeping me updated. When I hear anything else I’ll let you know.”

“Okay, bye. Love you.”

“Love ya, too. Talk soon.”

Someone knocks on my dorm door, and I go to open it.

“Well, thanks a lot,” Abbie snides as she lets herself in.

I resist the urge to sigh. “What’s wrong?”

She lets out a heavy breath, like the entire world and then some weighs her down. “Daddy’s coming this weekend. He talked to Mr. Hamns about deep sea fishing, and Mr. Hamns mentioned how much I wanted to go with my new friend, Viola. Of course Daddy loves the idea since you’re the scholarship recipient.”

Remind me again why I thought Abbie and I might be friends?

“Um.” I try to come up with a reason not to do this.

“Oh no.” She waves her finger in my face. “If I’m going, you’re going.”

I do want to go, just not with Abbie. “When? Saturday?”

“At the ass-crack of dawn.”

With that, she storms out of my room.

…

Saturday at dawn, I meet Abbie at her car in front of the academy. She doesn’t talk to me the whole way to the marina and instead downs an extra-large coffee that smells more vanilla than coffee.

“You’ve been talking to Riel.” She pulls into the marina.

“Yeah, we’re friends.”

“Hm,” is her comment as she tugs her emergency break into place.

I know she likes Riel. What, is she jealous or something about him and me talking? Well, that’s just stupid. It’s not like I stole him from her or anything. They’ve never even dated. Plus, Riel and I are just friends.

“Abbie, don’t misunderstand.” I try to make up with her even though I’m not quite sure what I’m making up about. “Riel and I are just friends.”

“Damn.” She nods out the window, and I glance over to see his Jeep parked. She grabs her purse, digs out makeup, and starts putting it on. “Did you know he was going to be here?” she snaps.

I shake my head and get out. “No. See you at the boat.”

As I near The Quest, Mr. Hamns waves. “Come on aboard!”

A big man with white hair holds a hand out to help me onto the boat. “Viola?”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m Abbie’s father.”

“Oh, hello, Mr. Farmer. So nice to meet you in person.”

He gives me a warm smile. “Likewise.”

How odd to think this man has given me so much money, and I’ve never even met him.

“Sorry I missed your interview.” He refers to the scholarship panel from this past summer.

“Me, too. Thank you again for your generosity.”

“You’re very welcome.”

Abbie comes up behind me. “Hey, Daddy.”

“Sweetheart!” Mr. Farmer gives her a hug. “I’m so glad you and Viola made friends.”

She shoots me a fake, newly glossed smile. “Me, too.”

He looks beyond her. “Where’s your brother?”

“Peter said he had too much homework.”

Wait a minute. What? I didn’t know she and Peter were brother and sister. That’s strange. How did I not know that? But now that I do know, I can totally see it. Tall. Blonde. Blue eyes. Ugh for personalities. Yeah, I can see the genetics now.

“I wish I would’ve thought of that excuse,” she mumbles to me before taking a look around. “Where’s your new girlfriend?” she asks, her tone indifferent.

Mr. Farmer clears his throat. “She decided to stay home.”

“Smart,” Abbie mumbles to me again.

“I hear your mother’s off on another spa retreat?” Mr. Farmer asks.

Abbie flutters her lashes. “She’s got to spend the alimony on something.”

Mr. Farmer clears his throat again.

I don’t know what’s going on, but I don’t want any part of it. Clearly the new girlfriend is a sore spot for Abbie and her father. Not to mention the mother.

From the companionway steps Riel.

“Hey!” Abbie greets him, going from irritable to enthusiastic in split-second timing.

I look around for Mar. “Where’s the little one?”

Riel smiles at that. “She spent the night with a friend.”

“We got a storm brewing way off the coast, so we’ll feel some chop on the way out.” Mr. Hamns claps his hands. “But it’s no matter. Radar shows it moving south.”

Down the dock comes the bald tattooed guy. Even though the sun is just coming up, he wears dark glasses like he had on before. Carrying a Styrofoam cooler, he walks toward us, and the closer he gets, the heavier my heart thuds.

It didn’t occur to me that he’d be working today.

He steps onto the boat, and silently, Abbie and I both back up. Obviously, she gets the heebie-jeebies from him, too.

He strides right past all of us and heads through the companionway Riel had come from.

“That’s Bud,” Mr. Hamns tells us. “Doesn’t say much but he’s a hard worker.”

Bud? He seems more like a Snake or a Viper or something.

Mr. Hamns spreads his arms wide. “This here’s a sixty-footer. Feel free to move about as you like. Please make sure you use the lifelines as you walk the plank. Aaarrrggghhh.” He does a pirate impression and then laughs at his own self. “Help yourself to food and drink down below. Just don’t stay down too long. Sea sickness and all. Better to be up top.” He points to some white crates. “Life jackets are in there. We’ll start fishing once we hit the Gulf Stream.”

Mr. Hamns and Mr. Farmer head up to the pilot house. Mr. Hamns signals Riel to untie us from the dock, and minutes later we motor out the intercoastal to the open ocean.

I stand on the right, watching the land get smaller and smaller, excitement dancing around inside of me at the day ahead.

Riel comes up beside me, and his nearness gives me a contact high I quietly soak in. If we ever did take it beyond friendship, the sex would be the kind you read about in romance novels. I guarantee it.

“Ever been deep sea fishing?” he asks.

“You kidding me? I’ve never even been on a boat.”

He arches a brow. “Really? Well, maybe me and Mar can take you sailing sometime.”

My eyes light up. “I’d love that.”

Abbie bounds up beside us. “Me, too!”

Riel shoots me a look, and I press my lips together so I won’t laugh. “All first timers need one of these then.” He takes his fisherman’s hat off and plops it on my head.

Abbie sticks out her bottom lip. “Oh, poo. Wish I had one.”

Poo?

Riel nods toward land. “You’ll see the academy here in a bit.”

“Really?” Abbie leans over the lifelines.

I bite back a smile. She’s seriously overdoing the whole catch-Riel’s-attention thing.

A wave rolls under us, and Riel leans into me as he catches himself. Immediately, I think of us playing in the ocean and being flush against him. I don’t even plan it, but like some magnetic draw, I find myself tipping back just a little until our bodies really are flush.

I don’t know if he catches my shift, but he doesn’t move away and, in fact, seems to come closer. I close my eyes and fantasize about him leaning down and nuzzling the spot right beneath my ear—

“I love fishing!” Abbie exclaims, and I jump a little. “I can’t wait to start!”

She slides closer to us as if sensing our little moment, and I take that as my cue to move. “I’m going below to get a Coke.”

At that news Abbie grins, and although Riel hides it well, I swear I see him glare me an I-thought-you-were-my-friend look.

Holding on, I step my way down the side of the rocking boat, glancing up as I turn to go down below, and catch sight of Bud all the way at the rear.

Sitting on a bucket, he smokes a cigarette, and through those dark glasses, he stares right at me. At least it seems as if his stare is directed toward me. Who can tell behind the shades?

I take in the tattoos coloring his bald head, the goatee with a tiny braid, and send him a small smile like I did the first time we saw each other.

But just like the first time, he doesn’t smile back and instead continues staring, or rather leering at me. Then he lifts a brown, weathered hand and does this slow, creepy two-finger wave, curling his index and middle fingers toward me.

The little hairs on my neck prick to eerie alert. What the hell? I have never seen such a disturbing wave in my life.

Swallowing, I remind myself there are lots of people on board and continue down below. I go straight to the cooler, grab a Coke, turn around, and catch sight of a lost and found basket with a pair of green runner’s shorts on top.

I snag them up and look at them.

Riel comes down the stairs. “What’s up?”

I show him the shorts. “Weird, but I’m pretty sure these are mine.”

“What?” He shakes his head. “That’s junk people usually leave on the boat.”

The last time I saw them was the day Mar and I played on the swings. The same day she thought she saw somebody watching us in the woods. Somebody wearing a red cap. I had looked through my duffle trying to find the runner’s shorts, and Mar interrupted me.

Riel opens the cooler and grabs a Coke, too. “Feel free to take them. That junk’s been sitting there as long as I can remember.”

“That’s okay,” I mumble, and for a few seconds my brain goes down a paranoid trail that creepy Bud somehow took my shorts and placed them here where he knew I would see them to play a game with me. But I don’t see how that can be, or why, even, he would do such a thing.

No, I’m being paranoid. Yet as I place them back into the basket, I make a mental note to look in my room as soon as I get back.

“Real smooth leaving me to fend for myself,” he jokes.

“You’re a big boy.”

He makes a face, and I make one back.

Back up top, I see Abbie throwing up overboard and what I really want to do is smirk, but she looks so miserable I can’t seem to muster one. I take a few steps toward her to see if I can help, but when she shoots me a pissy look, I do smirk. And I don’t feel bad about it at all.

Four hours later and floating in the Gulf Stream, Abbie sits sipping a ginger ale looking so miserable that I begin to feel sorry for her again.

Me, though? Sea sickness? Not so much.

Swordfish, mahi, grouper, I’ve already reeled it all in.

“Girl, I’m bringing you with me every time!” Mr. Farmer hoots. “You’re good luck!”

Grabbing the rail for balance, I grin over my shoulder at Riel.

He shakes his head in amusement. “Little haughty, are we?”

“I think I might be.”

Mr. Farmer hoots some more. “You should be. Say this is your first time?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What do you think?” he asks.

“Scary being so far out, but I love the fishing.”

Mr. Hamns comes toward us. “Wrap it up. Storm’s switched directions. Waves are starting to kick up. Need to head back before it gets too nasty.”

I glance up at the sky. It doesn’t seem so bad…except for those clouds coming toward us.

Riel grabs my fishing pole. “Storms can travel and change direction quickly. If Mr. Hamns says we need to pack up, then we do. Now.”

It starts sprinkling, and I pitch in to help Riel secure the poles and fishing supplies. We take a seat beside Abbie and watch the clouds move closer and closer.

Riel opens a nearby hatch and pulls out two ponchos. He gives one to Abbie and one to me, leaving him with nothing.

“No, that’s okay,” I tell him. “You take it.”

“Absolutely not. I’m a gentleman.” Then without giving me a chance to respond, he slips the poncho over my head and down my body, and he sits down next to me.

Abbie slips her poncho on and scoots in close to me, and the three of us sit smooshed together, staring off at the horizon.

“Tide’s rising,” Riel says. “Strong west wind. Waves are likely to increase to twenty before we get back.”

A shiver runs through Abbie. “What does all that mean?”

“Means we’re in for a hell of a ride,” he says.

Gradually, the sky grows dark and the winds kick in. Lighting streaks at the exact second the sky opens and rain storms down.

“We should go below deck. Not safe up here anymore.” He grabs my hand, I grab Abbie’s, and through the torrent he leads us down the side of the rocking boat.

As we turn to go through the companionway, I catch sight of Bud standing at the rear of the boat, still in dark glasses, wrapped in a slicker, and holding on to a line. I expect him to follow us down, but he doesn’t. Mr. Farmer stays in the pilot house with Mr. Hamns, leaving me, Riel, and Abbie alone below.

The radio crackles. “All vessels seek safe harbor immediately.”

“Th-that’s bad?” Abbie stammers.

Of course that’s bad. I don’t boat, but even I know that sounds horrible.

Riel turns the radio off. “Mr. Hamns will come tell us if he wants us to know something.”

I sit down beside a mascara-smeared Abbie and try to remain as calm as Riel seems.

Minutes pass and no one speaks. The quieter we are, the more I focus on the boat’s movement.

Right, left, whoosh.

Right, left, whoosh.

Bile bitters my throat, and I swallow.

Right, left, whoosh.

Right, left, whoosh.

“Think of something else,” Riel says. “Don’t focus on the boat’s movement. It’ll make you sick.”

I swallow again. “I know. I-I’m trying.” I stand. “I’m—”

Riel jumps up and snags a bucket. He runs toward me, and I grab it and throw up.

Abbie starts dry heaving.

“Not you, too,” Riel groans.

Abbie holds her hand up. “False alarm.”

Riel hands me a ginger ale. “You’ll be okay now. I’ll go empty the bucket.”

I take a long sip of the soda, and my cheeks heat. “I’m so sorry.” I reach for the bucket. “Where do I empty it?”

Riel shrugs the whole thing off. “I got it.”

He goes up top to empty my puke bucket, and I groan in embarrassment. I can’t believe he just saw me throw up.

As Riel disappears through the hatch, a loud crack pierces the air, and Abbie and I both jump.

Seconds later, Riel stumbles back down the stairs. “Lightning struck the boat!”

“We’re going to die!” Abbie cries.

Mr. Hamns comes down minutes later. “First, let me assure everyone we’re going to be fine. Lightning has struck the boat and disabled the steering mechanism and radio.”

Abbie grabs my hand. “Where’s my dad?”

“He’s still up in the pilot house,” Mr. Hamns answers. “The Coast Guard knows our coordinates based on my last transmission to them. I’ve dropped anchor. We’re gonna ride the storm out until it’s calmer, and I can measure the damage.”

He pauses a moment and sweeps his gaze over me, Riel, then Abbie. “This is a sturdy big lady we’re on. It’ll take a lot more than this squall to sink her.”

He sounds so confident, calm, rational. I’d be a nervous wreck if everyone’s safety depended on me. But Mr. Hamns has years of experience, I remind myself. He knows what he’s doing.