“Just run away together.” she repeats. “Why not?”
“Sold. We’ll go tomorrow.”
“I can’t wait.”
They are fake plans, but saying it aloud seems to calm her, and he takes that as a sign to offer something tangible, too. “Seriously though, I got the day off tomorrow. You wanna go for that ride on the water?”
“More than anything.” She fights a yawn. “You must think all I do is whine about not wanting to remember.”
“I don’t think that. Not sure I’d want to either. To be honest, getting my past wiped away might feel like a gift. That sounds all kinds of wrong, doesn’t it? Sorry. Shit, I’m sorry.”
“Sounds exactly right. The more I see, the more I think maybe it’s been a gift to forget. It’s not like knowing will change anything. Will you talk to me about fishing? Or anything else? Might help me fall asleep again.”
It isn’t the most soothing subject, but he obliges and tells her a story about his first day on the boat. How he was wet behind the ears and almost fell off the side twice. He embellishes a few details like fishermen are apt to do. Eventually, her eyelids droop with every slow, calm syllable and her hold on his finger goes slack.
Tomorrow they’ll spend the day on the water. Tonight he’ll spend his time guarding her against what lurks in her dreams.
* * *
The boat represents such a huge part of his life and, by extension, a huge part of him, that Logan’s wary of showing it to her. He won’t claim to love it out here, but it’s ingrained in his blood now and he’s desperate for her to approve of this ramshackle old boat with its yellow and white sails. He resists the urge to fidget as they get closer, sneaking careful looks at her face as they walk down the long dock.
He can’t read her yet. Her attention is on a swivel, always looking back at the marina entrance.
“You okay?” he asks.
“I thought I saw that guy from town. The one who ran into me. Did you see him back there by the gate?”
There’s no one behind them now and he’s been distracted watching her so he shakes his head. “No.”
“It’s probably nothing. I’m paranoid and sleep-deprived.”
He isn’t so sure it’s nothing. The hair on his neck stands up at the thought of someone following her, but they’re almost at the boat and once on the water, no one can catch them. So, he saves this conversation for later, making a mental note to keep a better eye out for lurkers.
He should buy her some mace, show her how to use a pistol, and start packing his knife just in case.
“Which one is yours?” Her eager excitement finally shines through and eases a portion of his nerves.
“Bit further down. Almost there.”
“It’s so pretty out here. The air feels so clean. Oh wow, look at all the seagulls. There’s a bunch of them. What are they fighting for?” She points to a ripple in the water where the seagulls are circling, picking at floating food.
He smirks. “French fries. They steal food off the boats. We gotta be careful with ours.”
“What terrible animals.” She laughs.
“We got other animals out here, but I don’t wanna say which ones yet in case we don’t see them.”
“Do I get a hint?”
“Nope, it’s a surprise, but you do get to hop up on this boat.”
He stops in front of his modest vessel, getting on first and offering his hand to help her aboard. He waits patiently for her reaction once her feet are on deck and tells himself that it doesn’t matter if she hates it. He’ll live. She’d be right to tell him it’s old and patched together, only a safety hazard.
She runs a delicate hand across the rail, her face full of feather-soft encouragement. “I love it. What does the name mean? I saw the plate on the front.”
“The Forget Me Not? Came with it when I bought her and it’s bad luck to change it. They’re the state flower of Alaska.The previous owner sailed her all the way here.”
“That far? That’s amazing.”