Chapter 8 #3
“You wouldn’t have been in the way, Ewan. If I’d known…” She shakes her head, sniffling again. “We can coulda, shoulda, woulda all day. But for two people who were so close, we really sucked at communicating, huh?”
“Apparently only about the important shit.”
Sputtering out a laugh, Maisey shifts, knocking the poles as she moves. My hand juts out to stabilize them, cut off by Maisey climbing into my lap. The move is easy, succinct, and natural. My pulse starts to race as my soul eases, having my girl right where she belongs.
Maisey feels it too, the way she relaxes into me a sign that she needs this just as much.
Burying her head into my neck, her breath tickles my skin with each exhale, moving in time with the waves beneath us.
I drag my hand up and down her back, running my fingers along her spine, enjoying the feel of this way more than I probably should.
“New pact,” she says, pulling back. Resituating in my lap, she locks her gaze with mine. “No more secrets. We use our words. All of them.”
“I don’t know that you want all my secrets, Mais,” I joke.
“I do. I want all of them, Ewan.”
“So you wanna know about how back in middle school when Jace and I finally didn’t have to share a room anymore, Miss Belle found the dirty magazine I had stashed under my mattress while shuffling all our stuff around?
Which led to her making Auggie take me on a drive so we could talk about it, and I don’t know what I was more thankful for, that my dad was not as judgmental as I expected him to be—maybe because this was his sixth time to have such a conversation—or that I hadn’t actually taped my crush’s picture over the faces of one of the, errr, models like I had thought about.
Because the conversation probably wouldn’t have gone over quite as smoothly had they seen your face taped onto one of those women. ”
“Ewan!”
“You said all my secrets. Pretty sure I never told you that one.”
For damn good reason too…
Maisey shakes her head, her smile still brighter than the sun at this hour, making my insides feel funny. Pretty sure admitting that truth to the beautiful woman in your lap isn’t supposed to make her giggle, but mine doesn’t seem fazed by it.
“As embarrassing and weird and yet, somehow oddly flattering, as that story is, I mean big ones. New ones.”
I knew what she meant. I also couldn’t help but take the opportunity that was right in front of me to tease her. To bring back a little bit of what made us, us. Ewan and Maisey. Her wild and free spirit and my quiet, introverted one.
“Deal,” I tell her. “Do we need ketchup? Because the closest thing I’ve got on the boat is bait paste.”
“No,” she answers, shifting in my lap so that her core drags across my crotch. I bite back a groan, digging my fingers into her hips. “I’m not quite as afraid of bodily fluids as I used to be.”
My dick twitches again, understanding every inch of her double meaning. For all my self-reminders to behave all morning, if there was ever a moment to seal with a kiss, this is it.
Running my hands up Maisey’s body, I weave my fingers into her beautiful blonde hair, cradling her head. She lets out a sigh as I draw her in close, my pulse kicking up a notch. Our lips are a whisper away from each other, and I hear it.
The snap of the line.
Maisey and I both freeze, as if we’re not sure. There’s no mistaking it, though, as the rod closest to me rattles in the cup, flexing as the line pulls.
I’m on my feet in a flash, grabbing the pole and handing it to her.
“Ewan, I didn’t know how to do this then, and I certainly don’t know how to do this now,” she tells me. “This part has never been what coming fishing with you was about.”
“It is now. We’re in this together.”
I wrap myself around her, steadying the rod in her hands. Whatever is on the other ends tugs again, so I guide Maisey’s hand to the reel, and start to turn.
“That’s it, nice and easy,” I whisper directly into her ear. “Nice and easy, and then tug…”
We yank backward, the two of us working against both the fish and the water. Maisey squeaks, so I tighten my grip, whispering in her ear again. Shuddering against me, she nods, following my instructions, leaving me to wonder for a split second if that’s how she likes it.
Fish, Ewan, fish…
Turning my attention back to the water, we tug harder, reeling in faster, winning the battle.
“Net!”
Maisey ducks out from under my arms, grabbing the fishing net from behind us and holding it out over the water.
I give the rod one last good heave, yanking it back as hard and fast as I can, drawing the bass out with it.
Maisey is right there with the net, catching the sucker to help bring him into the boat.
“Ummm, he’s kinda little, isn’t he?”
There is no missing the judgment in her voice, nor is there any missing the opportunity to walk straight through that door.
“Thought it wasn’t about how big you are, but what you do with it that matters,” I quip.
Maisey blushes, mumbling something that sounds a lot like “I wouldn’t know,” but she turns away from me as she says it so I can’t quite tell.
Despite our new pact from a moment ago, I don’t want to push.
Not here. Because if what I heard is correct, that’s an entirely different conversation—for the both of us.
“Yes, he’s smaller than average,” I answer seriously, going into fishing guide mode. Giving our catch the once-over, he looks to be about ten inches, in good health, and that we’re his first hook. “Which means he’s still a little guy. Probably only about a year old.”
“We’re not going to keep him, right?”
“No, catch and release, baby.” I hold out the bass, offering it out to her. “Want to drop him back in?”
“I am not touching the fish.”
I laugh, slipping him back in the water, once again remembering who I am talking to. Blood, guts, and triage is perfectly fine, but no touching live fish.
The sun climbs over the horizon, the bright light a harsh reminder that we have a real life to get back to. Turning to Maisey, I pull her into me, holding her close as I tuck a piece of hair behind her ear.
“This morning didn’t go how I thought it would,” I say.
“Is that good or bad?”
“Good. I promise.” I press my lips to her forehead. “Be mine, Maisey.”
Giggling, she looks up at me, eyes glassy with tears.
“I can’t imagine being anything else.”