Page 56 of Adrift

“Seriously! He does. My shitty ex took him back and gave him to his mother. She lives on a farm in New Jersey. He’s not dead. She sends me pictures on Insta all the time. When I get a place and stop doing yachting, she told me I could have him back. That she wouldn’t even tell her son. I’m not delusional.” She pulls her arms around herself.

There are three sharks. Haley’s not looking outside, but I can tell she knows they’re there because she’s buried her head in my shoulder. I glance over at Calvin. A little head nod to Haley. He gets it. I’m sayingCome on, man.

“Fine. I’ll play your stupid game.” Calvin huffs. “I like taking apart a small motor and seeing how fast I can put it back together again.”

“Wow, that’s cool. I mean, not for me. But cool,” I say.

“Five minutes, ten seconds.”

“That’s your best time?” Haley leans around me.

“Yeah.” Calvin’s breath rushes out of him, and he turns away from her. “World record is four minutes, two seconds by some kid in Peru.” Calvin’s looking out the window. Two fins now. One massive, the other smaller.

Haley looks too. “I’m sorry,” she mutters every few minutes, clinging to me. I’m an ass because I really don’t mind. In fact, I hope the damn sharks hang with us for a while. I’m not going to be the one to tell her when they leave.

“Favorite food?” I ask.

“Pizza,” Haley says into my chest.

I should have picked a different question. I’m feeling like I’m a walking advert for Birmingham because, honestly, it’s fish and chips, with Indian a close second. I pick my third favorite. “Waffles with fried chicken,” I say, which wasn’t something I’d had until I went to Fort Lauderdale. But it’s good—I mean superb. “But not with real maple syrup. The fake stuff is what I grew up with and like best.”

“Gross. I only like real maple syrup, not that I’ve ever put chicken on waffles,” Easton says.

Haley snickers into my chest.

“What are you laughing at?” I want to tickle her. I bet I can get her really going.

“It’s just Dante went on and on about your preference sheet. How you had to have chicken and how chicken doesn’t belong on a mega yacht.” Haley lifts her head to Easton.

“What do you think Dante’s favorite food is?” I ask her, smoothing the hair sticking out of the purple bandana down her back.

“Something Italian, I bet. He’d make the pasta from scratch. Something solid with meat. Fresh, simple, but delicious.” She lifts her head to Easton.

He’s pinching different parts of her feet. “One of the best lobster raviolis I’ve ever had. I just wish I’d had the whole meal now.”

I have no idea what the guests were fighting about, but I heard the yelling from the bow of the boat where I was wiping down the railings.

“I like popsicles,” Calvin bursts out of nowhere.

I really don’t want to think about the tattooed giant sucking on a kids’ treat. But Haley’s soft laugh vibrates from her chest against my side. “What flavor?”

“Red, orange. None of that green shit.”

“I love the green ones.” Easton changes his position at her feet.

“You would,” Calvin says in a gruff tone. He’s watching the sharks out the window. There’s only one fin breaking the surface now, and most of the blood slick has vanished.

“That feels really nice, how you’re rubbing my feet. Thank you.” Haley’s head dips into my chest.

“Pressure points.” Easton takes her other foot. He removes the water shoe. Her skin is pruned. From behind him, he takes the semi-dry towel hanging on the support beam and dries her toes. I’m mesmerized by what Easton’s doing. Drying, rubbing, and then pressing on certain parts. He hands her shoes to Calvin, who silently puts them in our spare gear bag. Calvin scowls at Easton and then me.

Haley’s breathing has changed. Deep breaths spaced farther and farther apart. Her neck limply rests against me. When have I ever taken the time to watch someone fall asleep? It’s really an amazing thing. Sleep. We can repair ourselves. I glance over at Dante and hope the chef will pull through.

“She’s out,” Easton whispers after a long time.

“No wonder. Adrenaline will do that to you,” I muster back.

“She was overtired.” Calvin’s voice is deep, and I know there’s more that he’s not saying, but now’s not the time. “She wasn’t sleeping on the boat. She had too much to do because the fucking owner wanted to leave early.” Calvin frowns at Easton.

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