Page 68 of The Second Chance in the Mediterranean
When we left Malta, Roy and I had put away as much as possible in the event of a rough ride like this one. But throughout the trip, other crew members had been in and out, and things weren’t put away like they should be. An orange rolled against the leeward wall, dishware clattered together in the sink, and someone had spilled a white powder on the counter by the stove.
I bent over to pick up the orange and my stomach somersaulted. Uh-oh.
The queasiness set in quickly, and I needed fresh air before I heaved up bile. It rarely happened, but since I hadn’t eaten in a day or so, my stomach and mind weren’t in sync.
When I pushed the door from the crew lounge to the main deck open, a chilly wind blasted against me, banging the door open farther than I’d expected, and then the rocking ofThemisslammed it shut behind me. It was gray—the sky, the rain, the ocean, the spray. Belatedly, I realized the fastest way outside was the worst one. I was on the bow ofThemis,subject to the elements and ill prepared. I turned to grip the door handle, slippery in my hands, and tried to pull the door open.
“Marce!”
I looked up at the shout, and a hooded figure fell on top of me, shielding me as a wave crashed over our bow.
Seb.
He was dressed in his foul-weather gear, waterproof pants and a rain jacket. His arms came around me, grabbing the handle of the door and bracing us for the spray of water. The fat drops of ocean slapped Seb’s clothes and stung our hands.
Seb pulled the door open and then shoved me inside. The door slammed shut behind us, sealing us off from the world. The noises vanished, an eerie, artificial calm in the eye of the storm.
“What. The. Fuck. Marce!”
I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and pushing now damp tendrils of hair away from my face. When I brushed the water from my eyes and opened them again, Seb was beet red, eyes enraged and furious.
And thenThemisheaved under my feet again. This time, I gave in to my stomach, and quickly pulled out the trash bin from under the sink and kneeled. My mouth opened, but nothing came out.
Behind me, Seb sighed. “Oh, flaquita.” His fingers wrapped around my upper arm; a palm brushed my hair back from my forehead.
I stared at the trash in the bin, the apple core and crinkled bags and wrappers as Seb rubbed my shoulders.
Nothing happened for a few moments and I sat back on my heels.
“Have you eaten?”
I shook my head.
“Okay. Let’s get you up to the helm. You’ll be more comfortable up there and I’ll get you some food.”
Taking my elbow, Seb guided me through the dining room and up the atrium. I leaned gratefully on him, even though the feel of his body, the heat of his skin, was also a different kind of torture.
“Look who we’ve got to join the party,” Seb called out as he opened the helm door. Dom stood by one of the instrument stations, travel mug in hand, chatting with Will, who was curled up in one of the armchairs.
Upon seeing me, Dom’s brow etched in concern. “Marcella? Are you not feeling well?”
Seb answered for me while helping me up into one of the other chairs. “She hasn’t eaten. I’m going to grab something for her. Marcella, keep your eyes on the horizon, okay?”
“I know.” It came out short and curt, ungrateful, and I didn’t mean it that way. He reacted, a subtle tightening of his jaw and lips.
“Right, I’ll be back.”
In the chair, I buried my head in my hands and then immediately regretted it. I trained my eyes out on the horizon, and Dom puttered around the helm, adjusting a fan to point on my face and then throwing a blanket over my shoulders.
“It always gets cold up here,” he commented.
I thanked him but kept looking at the sky. I tried to relax. With the air moving around me, and the view, I felt better. Better enough to feel foolish for stepping out in the first place and for the way I’d treated Seb.
He returned with some ginger biscuits and soda.
“Thanks,” I whispered.
His eyes held mine and it was the first time we had looked at each other—reallylooked at each other—since the incident with Justin. What I saw took my breath away. I’d expected and deserved anger, but instead I was met with warmth, sadness, and something so tender, I couldn’t...
