The storm had pushed the temperature down a good twenty degrees. So now, in addition to being soaking wet, she was freezing. She’d refused one of those foil blankets because the idea of wrapping herself in one was at least one layer of pathetic she could avoid. But now, with her teeth chattering and her soggy clothes plastered to her skin, she realized the ship of self-dignity had sailed a while back.
She took the blanket.
Mat half-expected the entire town to be standing on the pier, awaiting her return. When she saw that wasn’t the case, she felt her muscles relax slightly. People were coming and going and, with the sun shining, it seemed no one was the wiser. Almost no one.
She made out Dom, standing with his legs braced and his arms folded across his chest. Next to him stood Graham.
Mat swallowed. Her chest constricted and, for the first time in this whole ordeal, she found it difficult to breathe. Only for a moment had she truly worried about her safety. Even then, the frustration and the embarrassment were tantamount. She’d imagined Dom would be angry, then judgmental. She realized now, though, that she’d made him worry. She felt small and stupid and, perhaps worst of all, selfish.
And Graham. It had only been a few days since they fought at the trap yard, but it felt like an eternity. The yearning in Mat’s body, in her very bones, consumed her. The rescue boat pulled into a slip and one of the crew helped Mat onto the pier. She thanked them again, trying not to loathe how insufficient the words seemed.
Mat climbed the ramp to the main part of the pier. Dom and Graham moved toward her. As relieved as she was to be back on land, a feeling of trepidation sat heavy in her stomach. And then she looked at Graham. Their eyes met and Mat couldn’t feel anything but longing.
She tore her gaze away long enough to look at Dom. His face held a strange mixture of tension and relief. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. Before she could try again, Mat found herself pulled into a hug. She couldn’t believe how warm and strong Dom felt. But before she could process that, he let her go. Another pair of arms came around her. Smaller, but with a grip that felt fierce and protective. And familiar.
It was the familiarity that did her in. Mat’s mind flashed to a dozen moments when she’d been wrapped up in that embrace—in bed, on their first real date, after meeting Graham’s aunt. The tears came fast and hot and she was powerless to stop them.
Graham’s hold on her tightened even more. Mat felt the warmth of her breath near her ear as she said, “You scared me to death.”
Mat laughed, but it came out as one of those awkward sounds that sounded a lot like a sob. She pulled back, looked at Graham’s face, then Dom’s. “I’m sorry.”
Dom gripped her shoulder. “You should be, you stubborn son of a bitch.”
The insult, and all the love she could feel behind it, made the tears flow even more. She couldn’t remember the last time she was such a mess. Graham reached over and smacked Dom in the arm. “Don’t be mean.”
He laughed. Mat did, too. She offered him a wry smile. “It’s how he displays affection. Very macho.”
Graham gave a weak chuckle, but her face remained tense. “Right.”
Suddenly self-conscious about Graham being there in the first place, Mat made eye contact. “I’m sorry you got pulled into this, and that you worried.”
Mat realized she had no idea why Graham was there. She wasn’t in her Dolphin Fleet polo, so she couldn’t have happened upon Dom coming or going from work. He must have called her, told her. A certain discomfort joined the embarrassment. Combined with the exhaustion and, to be honest, genuine fear stirred up in the last few hours, she found herself overwhelmed by what it might all mean.
Graham closed her eyes and shook her head. “I love you, you stubborn woman. There’s nowhere else I’d be.”
The words sank in. Even more than the words was Graham’s matter-of-fact tone. Like she really did want to be there. Like she hated being there, but understood it came with the territory and was okay with that. Less like a girlfriend and more like a partner.
Suddenly dizzy, Mat closed her eyes and tried to keep the ground from shifting under her feet.
“You look like shit,” Dom said. “How about we get you home?”
“I won’t argue.” Mat wanted nothing more than to sit down. Well, maybe a hot shower, then sit down.
Dom looked at Graham. “Can you stay with her? I’ll go get my truck.”
“We’ll wait right here.”
Dom left and Mat, now alone with Graham, found herself at a loss for words. “Graham, I—”
“Shh.” Graham slid an arm around her waist. “We have plenty of time for talking. It’ll keep.”
The permission not to talk it out felt like such a gift. Mat offered her a smile. “Thanks.”
Dom pulled around and they climbed in, sitting three across on the old bench seat. The drive home took no more than ten minutes, but Mat grew fidgety. Now that she wasn’t worried about her life or being a laughingstock, her mind could fixate on how wet and uncomfortable she was.
They got out of the truck. Graham didn’t ask if she should stay or look at her questioningly. She simply took Mat’s hand and led her to the door. Mat pulled keys from her sodden pocket, then realized with embarrassment that her hands were trembling. Again, without saying anything, Graham took them from her and let them in. Mat turned to her cousin. “Thanks for, well, thanks.”
He nodded and she could see the toll the day had taken on him. A wave of guilt washed over her, colder and lousier than the actual waves that had pummeled her just hours before. But then he offered her a smile, the kind that told her he wasn’t done giving her a hard time, but that everything would be okay. “Get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
Mat gave in to the urge to hug him. “Tell Renata I’m sorry I pulled you away.”
“She’s spending the day with her sisters. I think they’re looking at dresses.” He shrugged, but there was a sparkle in his eyes that told her he didn’t mind the idea one bit. “Call if you need anything.”
“Will do.” Inside, Mat had a sudden urge to gather Graham into her arms and kiss her senseless. The urge to get out of her wet clothes won out, though. She started peeling them off. “I desperately need—”
“A shower.” Graham smiled. “You get in and I’ll throw your wet things in the washer.”
“Thanks.” She wanted to say a thousand other things. You don’t have to stay. Please stay. I’ve missed you. I need you and it terrifies me. Not sure any of them were right, she headed into the bathroom.
She left her clothes in a heap on the floor and turned the water on extra hot. Her skin was so cold, though, she had to ease it down a bit to be able to stand it. She stood under the spray for a long while, then scrubbed her skin and scalp. She turned off the shower and she reached for her towel, but it wasn’t there. A second later, the bathroom door opened about a foot and it appeared, held out by Graham’s arm. “I threw it in the dryer to warm it up,” she said from the other side.
“Um, thanks.” It seemed like a weird thing to do, but as Mat dried off and wrapped herself in it, she understood the appeal. Had she really never had a warm towel before?
“Do you want me to bring you some clothes?”
“I’ll get them.”
The arm disappeared and the door closed. Mat took a moment to study her reflection in the mirror. It was the same face that had stared back at her this morning, but it felt different. Like she’d aged several years in the course of a day.
She shook off the feeling and padded to her bedroom. She found her favorite sweatpants and pulled them on, along with a thermal shirt and a hoodie. Since she clearly had given up any notion of looking good, she added wool socks and her beat-up slippers.
Mat found Graham puttering in the kitchen. At the sound of Mat’s footsteps, she turned. “I’m warming soup. It’s nothing fancy, but your fridge is in pretty dire straits.”
Mat chuckled. She’d been living on frozen junk and takeout. “It’s perfect. Thank you.”
“I boiled water for tea, but could put on coffee if you’d prefer.”
“Tea is good. Caffeine is the last thing I want right now.”
Graham smiled. “I thought maybe. Sit. I’ll get it for you.”
Mat did as she was told and watched Graham put tea bags into a pair of mugs, add water from the kettle. She brought them both to the table before returning her attention to the stove. “You really didn’t have to—”
Graham turned. Something resembling impatience flashed in her eyes. “I want to. Please don’t argue with me tonight. We can argue tomorrow if you want.”
The sternness caught Mat off guard. It was weird, but she liked it. Well, maybe like wasn’t the right word. She got it. And for some reason, it made her feel better, cared for. “Okay.”
Graham ladled up soup and carried bowls to the table. Spoons and napkins followed. Mat hadn’t been coddled like this since she was a child. Even then, she only got this level of attention if she was sick. Graham sat across from her, lifted her mug in a silent toast. Mat mirrored the gesture before bringing the steaming liquid to her lips.
Graham didn’t force additional conversation. Mat appreciated that, especially since she probably had a dozen questions about what had transpired. They fell into a comfortable silence. As Mat ate, she felt the remaining chill leave her body. Along with it, the tension in her back and shoulders, in her legs, in muscles she didn’t even know she had, dissolved.
About halfway through, Graham got up to add hot water to their mugs. It was a casual thing; she didn’t even speak. It felt easy, relaxed, domestic. Mat let that last word sit in her mind. She would have expected it to give her a ripple of panic, but it didn’t. Not that she’d want this level of attention every day, but at the moment, it didn’t feel smothering. It felt good. Really good.
She was just processing that as Graham stood and began to clear the table. “I hope it’s not too forward, but I’d rather not let you out of my sight for at least the next twelve hours. How do you feel about that?”
Mat didn’t hesitate. “Fine. Good.”
“Good. Are you ready to pile into bed? Watch a movie?”
It was nearly dark out, but even in her current state of exhaustion, Mat couldn’t imagine going to sleep just yet. “Movie. You pick.” She thought for a moment, then added, “Anything but The Perfect Storm.”
Graham laughed and Mat realized how much she’d missed that sound. They moved to the couch and Graham grabbed the blanket from the back and tossed it over both of them. She picked up the remote. “I know you like action, but I’m thinking tonight might call for a comedy.”
After confirming that they’d both seen The Princess Bride at least a dozen times, Graham queued it up. The jokes were as cheesy as she remembered and the familiarity proved soothing. Mat’s eyes started to droop shortly after Buttercup was rescued the first time and she didn’t even bother trying to fight it. She had a vague sensation of Graham’s fingers in her hair, of shuffling into the bedroom. Everything else was a blur—a warm, dry, safe blur.