Page 4 of Go Away, Darling

“Of course.” She released the bowline from my boat.

My heart kept beating faster and faster as she moved behind her steering wheel and turned the key. Her engine roared back to life.

My skin itched. I wanted this conversation to keep going even though there was no way to force it. Rationally I knew this was it, but my body wasn’t feeling rational at all. It wanted to spend more time with Olivia Saldana. It wanted to touch her and introduce her to Chris Kaine, the man. “I’ll treat you to dinner as a thank you.”

She blanched and then dumped a cold bucket of water on my head. “I’m not single, Chris. But I’ll happily show you around and give you an introduction. Now you sober up.”

And with that very unwelcome news she pressed the lever forward and turned her boat away from mine. I watched her navigate to the channel and rev the engine up high, stuck on the wordsI’m not single.Something about them sat wrong. It was the same way she called me Christopher Robin. Words used as a wall to keep me on one side. She didn’t sayI’m marriedor engaged or taken or in love.

She used the negative instead of the positive.

I’mnotsingle.

What if that simply meantnot right now?

2

Just keep your focus

Chris

My brain didn’t work properly for a while after Olivia left. Between the alcohol, the heat, andher, the delicate organ inside my skull seemed to be overloaded with input. I set about doing menial tasks while drinking water and electrolytes. Normally I’d sit in my afternoon buzz. Take a nap. Enjoy the feeling of being completely free of stress and expectations.

But today I wanted my wits back. I needed to process what happened. Hell, I needed to be sure it was even real. Maybe I dreamt the whole thing. Yeah that’s it. The sun and the beer got to me and I passed out. I dreamt a beautiful adult version of my childhood crush appeared like an angel.

Yes, apparently my angels came in the form of fisher ladies.

I flipped my shirt over on the seat. It was almost dry. And proof Olivia had been here.

That’s when I heard an erratic buzzing noise. Since the engine was off and I didn’t have any electronics on—no depth finder or fish finder or any other kind of finder—it took me a minute to realize the buzzing wasn’t the boat. It was my infernal cell phone.

I dug through the compartment and yanked out the dry bag where it was safely stored, but apparently not off. Normally I powered it down for my day off so I could truly be away from it all. My mistake.

And not an all together terrible interruption since most of the notifications were from my brothers, Ben and Scott. I scrolled through seeing that it was mostly a back and forth over a meme Scott sent. I took a selfie and sent it.

Scott immediately pinged me back.Island time? Jealous!

Instead of messaging, Ben called me.

“Big Ben!”

“Little brother! How the hell are you? You down on Calusa Key?”

I squinted at the horizon in the general direction of the island. “Yep. Just for the day. I’m on call for tomorrow’s game.”

Ben whistled low. “Must be serious.”

“Playoff positioning at stake.” A little of the stress crept back in and I pushed back on the urge to tense my shoulders.

“But to use their best pitcher in relief? Come on. It can’t be that close.”

It was a rare and unusual move, but not unheard of. Some starters had to start. They had to paint on a blank canvas. It was built into the rhythm of their game. Every pitcher has a cadence, a game plan. Mine just happened to be the kind that could be used in any situation. I was cool as a fucking cucumber on that mound. It didn’t bother me to come into someone else’s mess. For all the stress I was trying to offload on my boat, none of that went with me to the field. It made me dangerous because it made me useful.

“Where we’re at in the rotation, using me tomorrow—if they need me—won’t impact my next start. So why not?” I shrugged even though no one could see me.

“Just take care of that arm.” It was a rare and not unwelcome bit of big brothering.

Truth be told, I was starting to think maybe I was lonely. My teammates liked to tease me, call me a hermit because I preferred the quiet and often went off on my own when things got too crazy. As the season wound down and the reality of our playoff chances came up, I’d started isolating more and more.

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