4. Sterling
STERLING
“ C ome on, Sterling, if you can teach kindergarten, you can cast a fishing pole!” Daisy snickers, effortlessly flicking her line out over the water like she was born to do it. I don’t take offense. I’ve come to really love her sweet, fiery nature since meeting her.
Daisy has become a bit of a lifeline for me since arriving in Twilight Harbor. Making new friends has never been easy for me, but with her, it feels so natural: effortless, even.
I’ve never been close to another Omega before, not like this. It’s like we just clicked, her warmth and easy laughter breaking through all the walls I’d spent years constructing.
She just…slipped in through my cracks.
I groan, gripping the pole in frustration. “Yeah, well, my students don’t require upper body strength and coordination. Or have metal hooks at the end of their arms.”
Daisy just grins, producing yet another perfect, artful cast.
I narrow my eyes. “Why are you so good at this?”
She shrugs, all carefree confidence. “Maybe it’s because I’m an ocean girl, love. This is in my blood. And maybe it’s because I grew up with those idiots.” She gestures toward the two hulking Alphas running the charter.
I huff, glaring at my tangled line, refusing to look at them any more than I already have.
“Well, it’s definitely not in mine…flatlander, remember?” I mutter. “I really should have stayed in bed.”
“Not a chance, sweet cheeks. I would’ve made them come get you,” Daisy laughs, nodding toward her brother again.
I still can’t believe they’re related. Where Daisy is all blonde curls, and easy smiles, JP is dark-hair, scowls, and sharp edges.
I joked before getting on the boat that he seemed like a pitchfork, and Daisy assured me with a laugh that he’s just as prickly as he looks.
I also have no doubt she would’ve sent her brooding, oversized brother straight to my front door if she thought I needed help. I’m not going to lie; the idea of either of these Alphas, let alone both of them, showing up at my house does truly terrible things to my concentration.
Still, it takes all I can to tamp down the way his scent is wreaking havoc on my senses, stirring up a restless and desperate feeling inside me.
“Dang it! I’m all tangled up again.” I look over at Daisy’s smirking face.
“It’s a good thing I’m not counting on you for dinner!” she says with a playful nudge of her elbow.
Unfortunately, this causes me to slip and slide on the deck, even with these rubber boots. I’m as clumsy as they come. A character flaw I, unfortunately, never grew out of.
“Hey! Unless you want me underwater, be careful with those elbows.” I shoot the warning out with a nervous laugh, still eyeing the rolling gray-white capped water with unease.
I’m sure it’s fine but the water seems rough, slapping against the side of the North Star, and it fills me with apprehension.
I probably should’ve mentioned to Daisy that I can’t swim, but I was so charmed by her invitation that I didn’t want to disappoint her. So, I kept my mouth shut and now I’m ridiculously grateful for the life jacket strapped around me.
Though, to be fair, I’m pretty sure the bulkiness of it, combined with my height, is part of the problem. I feel like a marshmallow trying to rock climb. Great. Just great.
I try again, but this time, the hook somehow gets caught on the webbing of my life jacket.
“Good God,” I mutter, trying to hold the fishing pole in one hand and yanking at the hook uselessly with the other, my cheeks burning with frustration. Daisy is now in full belly laugh mode, and gives me a friendly ‘you are on your own’ kind of look.
“Oh, honey,” she gasps between fits of laughter. “You’re a menace with that thing.”
“Gee, thanks for all the help,” I laugh. Setting the pole down at my feet and turning my focus to the tangled line, trying to work it free with stiff, fumbling fingers.
“Oh, don’t worry, help is on the way.” Her comment is confusing until big, beautiful, sexy masculine hands suddenly push mine out of the way.
A jolt runs through me as his hands completely engulf mine, pulling them away from the tangled hook with effortless precision. My arms go limp at my sides, nerves sparking under my skin.
I can feel the ever-present, traitorous blush creeping over my cheeks, hot and obvious.
Cass. He’s so much bigger up close. I can tell that he’s tense. It’s vibrating off him as he works. I have to fight the urge to lean into him. Instead, I settle for a deep breath, sucking his rich scent deep into my lungs.
His scent is deep and alluring, like stormy seas and pine-laden beaches after a cold rain. Fresh, sharp, and wild.
It seeps into my senses, muddling my thoughts and making my heart pound like I’ve been running for miles.
His eyes are guarded, cool steel under a furrowed brow. They’re quiet, watchful, feeling more intense and consuming than outright teasing. Like he’s taking the measure of me, calculating whether I’m worth his time or not.
“Careful.” His deep voice is rough and thick with that smoky timbre that makes every nerve in my body stand at attention. His fingers brush against mine as he loosens the hook, and I swear I feel the heat of him all the way down to my toes.
I swallow hard, suddenly aware of how close he is. How much space he takes up. How much space I want him to take up.
It’s overwhelming, the sheer size of him. His scent clings to the air between us, heavy and intoxicating. His eyes pin me in place, half curious, half irritated, like he’s trying to solve a puzzle he never asked to be given.
It makes me feel vulnerable, a pure Omega feeling I just don’t like. I feel flushed and uncomfortable.
I wish, more than ever, that I had the ability to hide my reaction. But I’ve always been a blusher…a neon sign flashing exactly how I’m feeling. And right now, I'm feeling everything.
“Hey Cass,” Daisy drawls, still grinning. “Come to put her out of her misery, finally?”
Cass doesn’t look at her. His attention is locked on me.
“Are you planning on being a pin cushion, or do you actually want to cast today?” he murmurs, voice laced with gravel and goddam, no one should smell that good.
I glare up at him, my pulse beating way too fast. Breathe, Sterling…
“I was handling it,” I say stiffly.
“Uh-huh,” he says, clearly not convinced. His fingers work deftly to untangle the hook, brushing against my hip below the edge of the life jacket, and even through the layers I’m wearing, I can feel his heat too close to my skin.
I swallow hard. Suppressants. I’m on suppressants. I’m okay, I’m okay. I just never had to deal with an Alpha who made me feel anything close to this. He makes me feel antsy and warm.
“You fidget too much,” he says, like he can read my mind.
“I do not fidget,” I snap, trying to straighten my spine. My hands ball into fists at my side as I do my best to not move a muscle. Which in turn makes me look ridiculous.
Cass huffs out something that is dangerously close to a chuckle.
“Whatever you say, sweetheart.” I feel my cheeks heat with the endearment. I’ve never been anyone’s sweetheart.
“I don’t think you should call me that,” I’m not exactly sure why I mind but I can’t help it; he makes me feel off kilter. He ignores me.
“Let me show you how to get your hook in the water.”
Daisy nearly falls overboard laughing.
I want nothing more than to have the ocean swallow me whole.
The weight of his presence presses in from behind me. His arms wrap around me and show me how to hold the pole, then he moves me around experimentally, his big hands hot on mine.
Cass is pure heat, strength and Alpha, I can feel it through the layers I’m wearing. His voice is low and steady as he gives instructions on how to cast properly, but my brain refuses to absorb a single word.
I should be paying attention. I should be listening. But Cass stands too damn close for me to do anything but be painfully aware of exactly how big he is, everywhere. I’m not delicate but I am height challenged and he positively engulfs me.
Instead, all I can focus on is the way the heat of his body presses against my back, and how I feel like I might spontaneously combust if I don’t turn and rub myself all over him. My Omega wants to mark him as mine, and the feeling is as foreign to me as it is intense.
I’ve never wanted to claim an Alpha before. But the scent of salt, ocean breezes, and fir trees assaults my senses, until it’s all I can smell. And the rough calloused grip of his hands as he adjusts my fingers around the fishing pole is all I can feel.
“You need to relax your shoulders,” Cass murmurs, his voice a languid caress against my skin.
Relax? Is he kidding?
I tighten my grip on the rod, swallowing hard. “Right. Relax. Got it.”
“She’s trying,” Daisy calls out, barely suppressing her laughter. “I think something is distracting her.”
“Trying too hard,” Cass mutters, his breath warm against my ear.
A shiver runs down my spine. I hope he doesn’t notice.
“Alright,” Cass says, stepping back, clearing his throat. Finally. “Give it a shot.”
I exhale slowly, rolling my shoulders, trying to focus.
It’s just a fishing pole. People do this all the time.
I shift my stance, grip the rod like he showed me, and cast. Or at least, I try. But my arm keeps hitting my life jacket awkwardly.
“Alright, sweetheart, just keep trying,” he says with a shake of his head and steps away to help another Omega. A weird sinking feeling settles in my chest at his departure.
Disappointment? I don’t like failing. And there is no way I’m being bested by a fishing pole.
A desire to impress the beast of an Alpha ignites in me and I know I must be making a face when I hear Daisy mutter, “Oh lord, watch out!” with a chuckle.
“That’s it! I’m taking it off,” I say to Daisy under my breath. “If I die, it’s been nice knowing you!”
I strip off the life jacket and try casting again, feeling relieved to find that it is so much easier without the cumbersome life jacket. I do a few more practice casts and I’m ready to give it a try and actually get my hook out into the water at a respectable distance.
I grip the rod and move my arm like Cass showed me. It feels so much more natural and I think I did it until…
The line goes wide and way too high.
And then snags.
Not in the water.
Not on a fish.
On Cass.
The hook lodges into his forearm through his shirt, yanking tight against the fabric.
For a second, I don’t realize what’s happened.
Then Cass lets out a sharp, startled bark of pain.
“Shit.”
I freeze. His Alpha’s bark makes my Omega cringe, simultaneously wanting to fix whatever upset him and being absolutely horrified that it was me who hurt him.
JP, who chooses that moment to come out of the cabin, lets out a low groan, and snaps. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.” And he turns right around and disappears back into the cabin from where he came.
JP’s irritation sends my heart into my stomach, floored at how much it bothers me.
I look over at Daisy for some moral support but she’s doubled over laughing and grasping her belly.
“What the hell?” Cass grits out, yanking his arm slightly to inspect the hook now embedded in his shirt. And I feel the line go taut, dropping the fishing pole like it’s a snake, and watch as blood slowly darkens his shirt.
My heart then drops to my feet.
“Oh my God, oh my God, I am so sorry!”
My instincts scream at me to fix it. I reach forward, hands shaking, trying to untangle the mess,
“Woman, stop pulling the line,” he barks.
The sudden bark makes me jump backward. And to my complete horror, I feel tears well up in my eyes. Cass looks at me and his expression only deepens my embarrassment. I hate that my emotions never stay where I want them.
“Sterling, I—” But he doesn’t finish that sentence, because as I take a step back, meaning to run away to the other side of the boat and hide for the rest of the day, my foot slips on the deck.
I scramble for my equilibrium, but everything happens too fast. One moment I’m steady, the next, I’m weightless.
And then, I’m falling.
The shock of weightlessness gives way to a cold, crushing darkness. The last thing I catch is a glimpse of my life jacket lying useless on the deck and Daisy’s panic-stricken face.
No one knows I can’t swim.
“STERLING!” Daisy’s scream tears through the air, high-pitched and broken, thick with disbelief and terror.
But her voice is swallowed by the ocean the moment I hit the water.
The impact slams into me like concrete, cold, brutal, unforgiving. It knocks the breath from my lungs in a vicious punch, leaving me gasping, chest constricted by a force so merciless it feels like I’ve been struck by a freight train.
Cold. So, so cold. The chill seeps into my bones, slicing through my skin like a thousand tiny knives. It’s not just the temperature. It’s the way the darkness presses against me, thick and crushing, dragging me down before I can even draw another breath.
Everything is dark, muffled, endless. The world above is nothing but a distorted blur of light and shadow, growing fainter by the second.
Saltwater floods my mouth, burning my throat as I choke and gag. My arms and legs flail wildly, muscles spasming with frantic, directionless panic. But I don’t know which way is up. I can’t tell where the surface is, the current tangling around my limbs like icy fingers, pulling me deeper.
I thrash and kick, desperation clawing at my chest as I manage to somehow force my head above water for a split second.
“Help,” I cry out, trying to gulp down air, water splashing against my face, tasting salt and fear. But before I can scream, before I can call out for help again, the current yanks me back under, ruthless and uncaring.
It feels like something alive, like the ocean itself is trying to drag me down. Like cold hands are wrapped around my ankles, my wrists, yanking me into the depths.
My clothes cling to me, heavy and waterlogged, dragging me down with impossible weight. My limbs feel like lead, sluggish and useless against the force of the waves.
I try to swim. To kick. To move. To breathe.
But the more I struggle, the heavier I feel.
My lungs burn, the need for air a vicious, all-consuming ache. Panic ripples through me, sharp and unforgiving. Everything is numb and searing at the same time, my skin stings, my muscles cramp, my heartbeat thunders so loudly I swear I can hear it over the roar of the ocean.
I’m drowning.
It’s a realization so sharp and sudden, it cuts through the panic with chilling clarity.
I am drowning.
This is it.
This is how I die.