Total pages in book: 101
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98324 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 492(@200wpm)___ 393(@250wpm)___ 328(@300wpm)
“What?”
“Cut-up bait fish.”
Confusion crosses her features, but then she smiles. “Eric Tremaine. Aren’t you a romantic. No wonder young women proposition you on Instagram.”
My father chokes on his beer.
“Want to go fishing?” I offer.
She shuts off the faucet. “You know I do! Let me just get a sweater.”
“Reels are by the back door,” my dad calls. “Outboard key is on the peg!”
Ten minutes later, we push off in my dad’s skiff. I run the motor for just a few minutes, until we’re far enough from the dock that we can drift. The cove is quiet, just the gentle lapping of the water against the hull. The sky is starting to tint orange over the mainland.
Darcy sits across from me on the bench seat in cut-off shorts, her sweater pulled tightly around her, eyes bright with excitement. “Thank you for bringing me out here. You must have spent so much time out here as a kid.”
“You know it. Danny and I were in a lifelong battle to see who could catch the bigger fish.”
Once again, I’m seeing this the way Darcy sees it—like a bit of adventure under a deepening sky. The sun’s last rays shimmering on the water, and the boat’s gentle wobble.
She fiddles with the fishing pole. “Okay, so how does this work? I just drop the line and hope for the best?”
“Hold up.” I pass her a rod and then I bring the baggie of thawed baitfish when I carefully seat myself beside her. “You need to hook the bait first.”
She eyes the glistening fish chunks in the dish with deep suspicion. “Oh no. Wouldn’t my boyfriend do that for me?”
“Fake boyfriend,” I say with a grin. “And it’s a rite of passage.”
She eyes the bait like it might bite her. Then, with a deep breath, she picks up a chunk and tentatively threads it onto the hook. “This is vile.”
“No, it’s romantic,” I say, amused. “Now, just drop the line in and let it sink a little.”
She follows my instructions, biting her lip as she watches the line disappear into the dark water. For a long moment, we sit in companionable silence, the skiff rocking gently beneath us.
I bait a hook for myself and drop it in. If Darcy weren’t here tonight, I’d probably be working out or watching game tape. Or I’d let my mother drag out the photo albums, and I’d pass her tissues while she cried over photos of Danny. “Thank you for coming out here with me. It’s been ages.”
“Has it?” She looks around at the houses onshore and the deepening sky. “I’d come out every night if I lived around here.”
“It used to be like that. After Danny died, none of us wanted to go onto the water for a long time. We sold our bigger boat.”
She turns quickly. “It was a boating accident?”
I nod, but I don’t share the grim details. “Then, after a few years, my dad missed fishing with his pals. So he bought the skiff and tried to get back to living his life.”
“That’s good, right?”
“Really good. But my mom lost interest in everything and never really got it back. She used to run half the volunteer organizations in town, but she doesn’t anymore.”
“I feel terrible for her,” Darcy says.
“Same. She keeps Danny’s room set up just the way he left it. Nobody goes in there. Except, Maribel lived there another six months after he died.”
“She lived here? Before?”
“Oh yeah. Maribel had a rough life. She grew up in foster care. It ends at eighteen, though. She and Danny were already a couple, so we moved her right in.”
“What a story.”
“Yeah. Maribel was only nineteen when Danny died. He was twenty. That was eleven years ago. They’d just gotten engaged the month before.”
“Holy shit,” Darcy says. “Kind of puts things in perspective. I have a grumpy boss and too much homework, but at least I didn’t lose my fiancé at nineteen.”
I point at the reel held loosely in her hands. “Keep a hold on that in case you get a hit.”
“Yes, sir.”
God, when she calls me sir, I almost can’t take it. “Anyway, Maribel is my parents’ bonus kid. But she mostly did everything herself—she got herself a scholarship and went off to college. She’s always had a safety net with us, but she really did it on her own. She’s fierce.”
“Sounds like it,” Darcy says. But she lifts her chin and takes me in. “But what about you?”
“What about me?” I don’t understand the question.
“You just told me the story of how everyone coped after your brother died. Except for you. Where were you?”
“Oh.” I shrug. “It was a horrible summer. But then I went back to boarding school, where my life was mostly the same. I felt guilty about it, but it really helped me to be there. I didn’t sit down every night to that empty spot at the table, you know?”