Chapter 35
Iknock hesitantly on the shut door.
“Come in.”
I turn the handle carefully, checking my phone one final time before entering the small office. I’ve never been inside the marina building before.
Dusty, the manager, leans back in his swivel chair. It creaks, and that’s the only sound until he says, “Hello. What can I help you with?”
“I’m Wren,” I tell him. “One of the waitresses.”
No recognition appears.
“I was, um, I was supposed to meet Sawyer a half hour ago. He’s not back yet, and he’s not answering his phone, and it looks like it’s about to rain. I was wondering, is there some way you can call the boat? Check on him?”
Dusty isn’t reclined anymore. He’s sitting, then standing, a confused, concerned expression appearing on his face. “What are you talking about? Bennett has a boat out?”
“Yeah.” I think. “Someone named King wanted him to check steering? He told me more, but I don’t really know anything about boats and didn’t understand all the details …”
Dusty isn’t listening to me anymore. He’s talking on the phone, tone low and serious as he speaks. I can only make out snippets of the conversation, not enough to tell me what’s going on. But I hear enough to tell me Dusty is distressed, and that freaks me out.
I wish I had Gus’s number. Or Wade’s.
Dusty hangs up.
“Are you calling the boat?” I ask.
“We’ll try.”
“Try?” I repeat incredulously. “Can’t you take another boat out? Go find them?”
He shakes his head. “Not in these conditions. That was the harbormaster. The storm is expected to worsen in the next couple of hours.”
“So, we should go now, before it gets worse.”
Dusty is already shaking his head. “Too dangerous. We don’t know where they are. No distress signal or coordinates have come through.”
“Something is definitely wrong, then.”
“I appreciate you bringing this to my attention. We’ll do everything we can.”
That sounds like something doctors say before, There was nothing we could have done.
“What about the National Guard?” I ask urgently. “Or the Coast Guard? His mom is in the Coast Guard. Maybe she knows someone? There must be someone you can call. Something that someone can do!”
I’m near hysteria, in this stranger’s office, and there’s no thought that reins my spiraling emotions under control. This isn’t a problem that can be solved with money. I feel completely helpless, and I hate it.
“We will do everything we can,” Dusty repeats calmly. “I need to make some more phone calls, so if you don’t mind waiting outside …”
Numbly, I leave his office. Outside the building, it takes me several sodden steps to realize it’s started pouring.
I walk over to the edge of the lot, staring at the harbor. I can’t see much, between the lashing rain and the waning light, but I can see the boats, safely in their slips, are rocking. How much worse it must be out in the open water.
I glance left, at the picnic table Sawyer always chooses to sit at.
It’s the only table with a clear shot of the lighthouse, which is why he likes it, I’m assuming.
I figured out which spot in the lot has an unobstructed view.
It’s where I park every morning so I can watch him sip his coffee and stare at the boats.
It feels like a metal band is contracting around my chest when I realize I might never see that again.
“Wren!”
I turn to watch Gus jog toward me. He has a raincoat on with the hood pulled up, but it’s not doing much. His bangs are dripping.
“Have you heard from Sawyer?” I ask immediately.
Gus shakes his head. “Not since the end of our shift. He and Wade were taking the Odyssey out for a quick trip. Wade let me drive his sedan home. Cap was supposed to drop him off at my place to grab the keys. He still hasn’t shown up, and I thought they might need help coming in with this wind.
And rain.” He glances toward where I was just looking, scanning the horizon. “They’re not back yet?”
“No. I told Dusty. He seems concerned, but he’s doing nothing. He said it was too dangerous to go after them.”
Gus nods. “It is.”
“Why aren’t they back yet?”
“It can be safer to stay offshore and head for open water. Nothing to crash into out there.”
“Whales,” I mutter.
“What?”
“Nothing. You really think they’re fine?”
“I think that if I had to be stuck on a sailboat in a storm with anyone, I’d pick Cap. He knows what he’s doing, and he’s good under pressure. And Wade is … well, he’s probably not being helpful, but at least Cap has a second set of hands and someone to talk to. They’ll be fine.”
I nod, more reassured than I was talking to Dusty. We’re talking about Gus’s two best friends. If he’s calm, I must be overreacting.
But then two things happen. One, thunder rumbles in the distance, menacing and ominous. Two, the marina’s exterior lights turn on, determining it’s darkened enough for them to be necessary, and I see that Gus is white-knuckling the railing.
“I should go talk to Dusty,” he tells me, turning and heading toward the building behind us.
I slide my phone out with clammy fingers. It’s seven thirty, almost two hours after Sawyer said he’d be back. Will they stay out there all night, waiting the storm out?
The screen is slick, even though it was in my pocket. My clothes are nearly soaked through.
Still no reply from Sawyer, although I’ve stopped expecting his name will show up. He doesn’t have service, or his phone is dead, or both.
I call my dad, and he doesn’t answer. He’s away on another business trip—I forget where—and apparently unreachable.
So, I call the one other person who might be able to help. My last name means I have more than money at my disposal.
He answers on the second ring. “Arthur Kensington.”
I suck in a deep breath. “Hi, Grandpa. It’s Wren.”
A stunned pause follows. At least, I’m assuming surprise is the reason for his hesitation. I don’t think I’ve ever called my grandfather directly before. Dad’s the one who normally reaches out on Grandpa’s birthday or holidays and then passes the phone around to the rest of us.
“Hello, Wren,” he finally says. “How are you?”
“Right now, not so good.”
“No?” His tone sharpens. “What’s wrong?”
“I need a favor. I-I’m working at the Atlantic Yacht Club this summer.”
“Yes. Hanson mentioned it.” Grandpa’s tone is dry, and I’m assuming his reaction was less supportive than Dad’s.
“I’ve made some friends, working here, and a couple of them took a boat out earlier. There’s a bad storm, and I was just wondering if you … knew anyone who might be able to help. No one here is doing much.”
“For a few kids who neglected to check the weather report? I’m hardly surprised.”
I swallow hard. “Please. I’m asking … as your granddaughter.”
“Is one of these ‘friends’ a boy named Sawyer Bennett?”
It’s a shock, hearing Grandpa say his name. My parents don’t know it. Rory doesn’t know it. And I’m a lot closer with my immediate family than my grandfather.
“Yes.”
“The same Sawyer Bennett my personal attorney was tasked with defending in an assault case?”
Shit. I didn’t ask Rory any questions about who she was calling, figuring she would know best, and it never occurred to me the lawyer might have some connection to my grandfather.
“He wasn’t charged.”
“He wasn’t innocent either. I reviewed the file myself. An underage bar fight, captured on security footage, with plenty of eyewitnesses, I believe.”
“So, he deserves to drown because he punched someone once?” I snap.
This was a mistake. A huge, huge mistake. I had known it would be before I called. My grandfather might love his family, in his own twisted way, but he earned the ruthless reputation that still follows him around. You don’t become as feared as he is by playing nice.
“I had a background check run. Father in prison, mother investigated for neglect, domestic abuse allegations, atrocious grades—”
“Goodbye, Grandpa.”
He speaks before I can actually hang up. “This boy must matter a great deal to you, if you’re asking me for help.”
I say nothing because he already knows the answer.
And because duh is unlikely to make him more sympathetic.
“I don’t do favors, Wren. They’re messy and uneven, especially within families.
But I will make a deal with you. I will hang up with you and call a dozen people who could help in this situation and ensure that every single one of them prioritizes this.
In exchange, you will do two things for me.
One, you will stay away from this boy in the future.
Two, you will select a different university—one worthy of you. ”
I huff a disbelieving laugh, but he’s serious. I know he is. Grandpa doesn’t know what a joke is.
Fear battles logic. I don’t believe Dusty will abandon Sawyer and Wade. But I do know he doesn’t have the influence my grandfather does. What if the longer time it takes him to mobilize anyone matters? What if they can’t do anything and I could have done something?
I don’t want to go to UCLA, not really. Does it matter where I go to college instead? And how long would Sawyer and I last once I leave anyway? However I can protect him—from this storm, from my grandfather interfering with his life—I will.
I need Sawyer Bennett to exist. I don’t need him to love me. I don’t need to see him every day. But his existence is nonnegotiable. It’s necessary that he be alive, even if he’s distant or distanced.
“Okay,” I whisper. “Deal.”
“I’ll update you soon,” Grandpa says, hanging up immediately.
Some part of me appreciates the efficiency. The lack of smugness for getting his way. The rest of me is preoccupied with, What the hell did I just do?
I stare at the background of my phone. We look so happy. So unburdened. What I wouldn’t give to be back there now.
Sawyer did everything that day. Knew what to do with everything that day. I have to believe Gus is right—that he’ll know what to do until help arrives.
“Dusty’s calling everyone he can,” Gus announces, returning to the same spot beside me a few minutes later.
“But he’s having trouble getting through to the nearest Coast Guard station.
They must be getting a lot of calls tonight.
People often panic when storms turn worse than predicted.
They issued a wind warning, but a little late.
” He glances at the flagpole next to the yacht club, where the red, white, and blue is basically a blur of color.
“Cap’s mom is in New Hampshire, but he’s trying to reach her too. ”
I nod.
My phone lights up with a text. I peer at it hopefully, thinking it might be my grandfather—although I’m not even sure he knows how to text—but it’s Gia, asking if I’ll come back to the city next weekend to go to a concert with her.
“He made his background the same photo, you know,” Gus comments.
I manage a small smile. “I know. I mean, I saw.”
“I’m glad for you guys. You … work.”
My smile slips. “Not all stories have happy endings, Gus.”
My phone buzzes again, this time with a call from my grandfather.
I answer immediately. “Yes?”
“They’ve sent out two response boats and a cutter. Air assets should be off the ground shortly.”
“Air assets? Like a helicopter? They sent a helicopter out in this?”
“They’re unable to reach the vessel by radio. Based on the size and origin, they established a search area for where the boat is most likely to be. They’ll sweep that first, then fan out if necessary. I’ll let you know when the boat has been located.”
Again, Grandpa hangs up without saying goodbye.
Gus is staring at me. “Uh, why are you getting phone calls about helicopters?”
I exhale. “Remember the night we met? On the cliffs?”
He nods.
“You were concerned about me jumping. Cammie said since I was a rich brat, my family would send the Coast Guard out for me.”
Gus frowns. “Okay. What does that—”
“She was right. And I’d do the same for him.”