“Do you want to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to keep guessing?” I queried.
“Oh, but I thought the wise and ever perceptive Grant Twombley knew everything,” she bit back.
“That’s not fair, damn it,” I spat. “And you know it.”
“Do I?”
Goddammit.
I barely kept that one silent. Instead I fumed out a harsh breath before demanding, “Why are you saying this? And why the fuck are you acting this way toward me? I haven’t done anything. Or have I and just haven’t realized it yet? Is this about me cutting things short back in the stateroom?”
Rio gave her head a little shake, grinning as if contemplating a response but then thinking better of it. “No,” she finally murmured. “This isn’t about that. And I really don’t want to fight about it, okay?”
“Fine.” I gathered a fistful of my hair. “I mean, okay. That’s okay, baby. I don’t want to bicker, either. I’m sorry I lost my temper. I don’t want to make you upset. I just want to understand what’s going on. Will you help me?”
More of the deafening silence. Thank fuck for the constant drone of the vessel’s motor, along with the sweeps of water against the hull. I was doing everything in my power to stay calm, and the steady rhythms were a big help—especially as she stared back at me with what looked like solid contempt.
But why?
I couldn’t figure anything out…
I took a healthy gulp of water from my glass but kept my stare trained on her over the brim the entire time. She merely closed her eyes and tilted her face up to the morning sun. It was definitely going to be a warm day out on the open water.
“Are you disappointed we’re making port soon? Is that what set you off?” I asked it as gently as I could, trying to restart a conversation.
“Set me off?” She dropped her head, now squinting to focus on me. “Don’t be ridiculous, Tree. I don’t want to be cooped up with you any longer than I have to be.”
I decided to ignore that. No point being derailed by her bratty behavior. I was starting to figure out her game. At least I hoped. “Well, I’m just using some logical deduction,” I explained. “That is when you did the one-eighty. Mood wise, I mean.”
She huffed and crossed her arms. “See what I mean? You have it all figured out, don’t you?”
She clearly wasn’t pausing to think about her actions, so neither did I. Without thinking it through at all, I stretched out my arm, snatched the base of her chair, and dragged it across the deck until she was right in front of me. Before she could react, I quickly bracketed her legs on either side with my own. Perfect. I had her trapped in place. And it was exactly as I intended.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she seethed and squirmed impatiently.
“Keeping you right here so we can talk this out,” I said, countering with calmness. Maybe if I infused the air around us with enough tranquility, it would bring her anxiety down a few notches. But not right away. Rio huffed through her nose like a little angry bull, and I chuckled at the image. Of course, that only served to piss her off more, and she tried to push back from the confinement I’d created with our chairs.
“Damn it, Grant! Let me go!”
I shook my head slowly from left to right. “I don’t think I can do that, Blaze.”
Not now. Maybe ever.
But I knew better than to say that aloud. Not if I didn’t want the woman diving overboard. She’d do it too. Anything to save herself from dealing with the growing emotions between us.
Plus, I had to face a bigger truth than that.
I was being a fool. An unfair one, at that. It was wrong to pin her down and define her feelings for me at this point. What we had—if we had anything at all by now—was still new and fragile and wild and uncertain.
I knew that.
I swore I knew that, and I told myself that over and over. Preached it to myself, really. Yet, somehow, she kept crawling deeper under my skin.
Who the hell was I kidding with that shit, too? She wasn’t under my skin. She had penetrated so much deeper than that. Rio Gibson had burrowed a tunnel straight into my heart, and I was so fucked because of it.
Because I wasn’t sure how I was going to get her out at this point.
What was making the whole situation worse? There wasn’t a single part of me that wanted to.
Chapter Eight
Rio
Third time’s the charm, right? Or so I told myself when my phone vibrated on the bed beside me. I’d ignored it the other two times but figured I had better check the screen in the odd event it wasn’t my shipmate. Abbigail was due to labor my nephew into the world any day, after all, and while I didn’t hold out much hope of getting a cell signal in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, Grant wasn’t the only persistent one around here. He’d said we would be pulling into port tomorrow, so we had to be getting closer to land.
That being said, I wasn’t optimistic about being on the shortlist of people Abbi would be calling on her way to the hospital. Not after everything that had happened between her husband and me. But I was still the widow of her brother. Nothing would ever change that. I would forever be her baby’s auntie. Before Sean’s accident, I’d been a welcomed member of the crew looking forward to Kaisan’s birth.
And there it was.
I felt the same familiar weight on my chest whenever the tragic topic came up. Whether it had been voiced aloud or just bounced around in my own head—the feeling was there all the same. Cold. Relentless. Unchanging. Unforgiving. It was just like the lump that rose up in my throat and the chaos that clamored in my mind.
Sean’s accident. My husband’s death.
So here I sat, the widow of a virile, exuberant, smart, and witty man. The man I adored with my whole heart. But all the love and commitment in the world wouldn’t change the fact that he was ripped from my life one weekday afternoon—at three seventeen, to be exact. The time was branded on my memory forever.
Even now, months after the funeral and packing his clothes in boxes for charitable donations, one painful truth stood out among the others. While I was trying so hard to pick up the shattered pieces of my life, the people around me who professed to care the most didn’t notice I was dying too.
None of them except for Grant.
The man noticed everything. Every. Thing. He had a way of seeing through the mask and bullshit I sold to everyone else.
Most of my friends and family were so wrapped up in their own lives, they didn’t pay attention to mine. And I couldn’t really fault them for it. If I were honest with myself, I would have probably done the exact same thing to someone if they were silently screaming for help. It was easy to overlook someone else’s pain when your head was buried in the sand of your own daily grind.
But again, enter Grant Twombley. Always the anomaly. He had been the one to offer a steady hand when I needed it. The problem now, I’d gotten used to leaning on him—and it felt too good. Too right. But what did that say about me? My husband died just a few months ago, and I could already see us sharing laughs over pizza and Sunday afternoon movies.
Spending time with Grant was so effortless. He made everything in the world seem right again. Something about his easygoing smile and calm aura made me feel like I could muster the courage to take on the world again. The voyage across the ocean made me see things clearer, and I was pretty sure that was part of his plan the entire time.