Chapter 12
TWELVE
“This is the last time, Lio,” I tell him sternly as we walk from the truck to the shipyard.
Yesterday evening, we visited North in his office, asking him if he wanted to help get groceries and make some homemade pizzas.
It’s something Lio saw on one of those kid’s shows, and he was excited to try it out.
But as always, North’s mood was less than stellar, and he didn’t even listen when Lio told him about his idea.
We ended up making our pizzas with Nash. It was fun anyway, but my patience with North is wearing thin. It would be good for him to spend time with his son.
And good for his son, goddammit.
While we were at North’s office, Lio played with one of the toy boats North had given him for his birthday, driving it all over North’s desk. But he somehow forgot it there, and now we have to come back and get it since Lio can’t go through a day without it.
It’s not the first time this has happened.
“I’m sorry,” Lio says in a small voice from behind me, slightly panting from the short walk from the truck to the side door.
Fuck, maybe we need to increase his steroid inhaler dosage.
I’ll have to talk to Dr. Nandes about it.
I retrieve the key to the side door from the back of my jeans and open it, noticing it is already unlocked.
Better not tell North that someone fucked up, or there will be hell to pay.
I make a mental note to talk to him about getting a new security setup while we make our way up to North’s office to retrieve the toy boat, which sits on the desk as expected.
As we walk back down the stairs, I watch Lio to make sure he doesn’t slip, then my gaze catches on the ladder next to the boats.
It’s at a completely wrong angle, and I swear it wasn’t like that when we left yesterday.
We were the last to leave, besides North.
When we get down to the main floor, I go over to the ladder. There is a jacket laying on the ground beside it, so I pick it up and hold it out to inspect it more closely. It’s a women’s running jacket, with a phone and some car keys in the pockets.
What the fuck?
“Lio, stay here, please,” I tell him, patting his head before I make my painfully slow way up the ladder and onto the boat.
I look in the wheelhouse, but there is no one there.
I turn and look around, but there’s no trace of anybody.
Just when I’m about to shrug it off, my gaze falls on the closed maintenance hatch.
I remind myself it’s better to be safe than sorry as I walk to the hatch and yank it open to peer into the small space.
My heart nearly stops at what I see inside.
There, sitting on the ground, surrounded by the motor and machine parts of the boat, is a blonde-haired woman.
I can’t see her face since she has her knees drawn to her chest, hugging them, her face buried inside.
She’s trembling like a leaf, and sobs are escaping her while she’s rocking back and forth.
“Hey, are you okay?” I ask like an idiot, panic surging inside me.
How did she get in there?
How long was she in there?
She doesn’t move besides trembling, and there is no way I could fit in beside her. So I crouch down and grab her under her arms, pulling her out of the hatch and depositing her on her feet on the deck next to the railing.
Her whole body is shaking, her face pale, yet red at the same time from all the crying. Her cheeks are wet when she looks at me with fearful hazel eyes, and my breath catches in my throat.
It’s her.
I have to remind myself to breathe before I say, “Here, you can hang onto the railing to steady yourself.” I grab her hand and guide it to the side of the boat, but she looks at me with even more panic in her eyes and clutches my shirt over my chest. “Well, you’re welcome to hang on to me too, but I’m not very stable,” I try to joke, but it goes right over her head, concerning me even more.
“Do you need to sit down?” I ask, but still, nothing from her.
“Come on, let’s get down from the boat, and you can tell me what happened. ”
I try to pry her hands away from my shirt to take a step toward the ladder and guide her down, but she whispers, barely audible, begging me with her words and her eyes, “Please.”
I don’t know what she’s pleading for, but I would give her all of me right here, right now.
A kidney? Sure, take it.
You know what, take the leg I have left. I don’t need it anyway.
I crouch down and put my arm around her thighs, just shy of her butt, and stand, holding her to me like I do with Lio. Her arms come around my neck, and she clutches my shirt again, crying hard.
My heart races for a completely different reason now.
God, she smells so damn good, like coconut shortcake.
My dick stirs in my pants, and fuck, it is really not the time.
“Shh… you’re okay, I got you. Nothing bad happened,” I soothe, carrying her to the ladder. “This might get a bit bumpy, so hold on tight,” I warn her, and she wraps her arms around my neck so firmly it’s almost hard to breathe.
Balancing her weight against my side, I grasp the ladder with my free hand.
The familiar routine kicks in—my left foot finds the next rung, and once I secure it, the right joins.
It’s a dance I’ve mastered, making sure each step is steady, compensating for the leg that doesn’t quite move like it used to.
But it’s a struggle with her added weight, even if she is light as a feather.
When I hit solid ground, Lio looks at me questioningly. “What’s wrong with her?”
“I don’t know, bud. Let’s take her home and find out.”
“You have no idea how sorry I am, Slo,” Saylor apologizes in a pained tone from behind the couch, crouching down so we are at eye level.
I’m sitting in the guys’ living room, on Apron Guy’s lap, straddling him, and he’s holding me tightly, stroking my back. I finally stopped sobbing and opened my eyes to see Saylor standing there.
“I would have never let you go in there if I had known.”
Saylor stayed with me the whole time, talking to me in a soothing tone, trying to get me to calm down and stand, to try to push up the hatch or make any sounds, scream for help, or clatter stuff so somebody would hear me.
But memories gripped me, and I was frozen in place.
His voice was muffled like I was hearing him through water, and I couldn’t move a muscle, even if I wanted to.
My whole body could only shake, and I couldn’t form a single thought that was not pure panic. And then he came and saved me. The man who is now holding me like I’m the most precious thing in the world, soothingly humming a tune.
He had to carry me out of the truck and into the living room. I clung to him even harder when he wanted to sit me down. It is embarrassing how I threw myself on a stranger, but he was my lifeline in the dark.
He felt so... safe. Safe and warm and cozy. I’ve never felt like this with a man, and I don’t even know his name.
I take a deep, shuddering breath to stop the crying and take in his sandalwood scent.
“Hey, Shortcake, you back?” Apron Guy asks gently, turning his head to me and pushing a stray strand of hair behind my ear to be able to see my face.
The move takes me by surprise, and I turn my head to him too, bringing us nearly nose to nose.
“There you are,” he whispers gently while searching my eyes.
He pushes away a tear from my cheek with his thumb, and the motion brings my consciousness slamming back into my body. I scramble to stand, and he lets go of me reluctantly.
“I-I’m so sorry, I don’t know what—” I start rambling, hugging myself, but he interrupts me.
“You’re fine. You had a panic attack. No wonder, who wouldn’t if they got closed into such a small place,” he soothes.
“I shouldn’t have thrown myself at you like that. I’m sorry,” I apologize, taking a step back.
This is so fucking embarrassing.
“It’s fine. You were out of your mind with fear. You weren’t thinking straight. I know the feeling. It’s no big deal. Honestly,” he assures me. “Do you feel better? Can I make you some tea?”
“I think I should just go,” I mutter, trying to turn, but my knees are weak, and I nearly fall on my butt when I trip over the carpet.
He reaches out and grabs my upper arm while still sitting on the couch.
This guy is big.
“Sit,” he tells me, his tone a little commanding but still gentle, like he’s talking to a child. “I’m gonna go make you some tea. You drink it, and then you can go when you’re not so jittery anymore.”
He stands and makes his way to the kitchen, leaving me alone in the living room with Saylor.
“He’s the good guy from our bunch, so don’t worry,” Saylor reassures me, sitting on the armrest of the couch.
I raise an eyebrow at him, not wanting to talk and make Apron Guy think I’m even crazier than he already does.
“Hunt is the kind of guy you want by your side when shit goes down. The guy I would leave my girl with when I couldn’t be there, so I’ll do just that. ” He grins before he vanishes.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” I hiss through clenched teeth.
I go through hell for him, and he just dumps me here?
When I turn my head back to the room, the child stands in front of me, his head tilted, eyes fixed on me. His sudden appearance makes me jump. “Oh my God,” I breathe out, putting my hand over my heart while closing my eyes and letting out a breath.
He just stares, and a chill runs down my neck as he does. I search the space behind him to find the drowned woman standing in the corner of the room, watching us. But she doesn’t move or try to talk again, so I ignore her and focus back on the child.
“Hi,” he says in a sweet voice, so soft I can barely hear him.
“Hi,” I greet back, forcing myself to give him a small smile.
“Who are you?” he asks me, his blue gaze curious.
“I’m Sloan. Who are you?” I ask, and he starts to laugh, a small giggle.
“Sloan is a boy’s name. You’re a girl.”