Chapter 32 #2
The next picture is one of a young North and the drowned woman.
I barely recognized her. She was a damn beauty, alive and happy, with a big smile, full lips and light blue eyes.
There are freckles on her nose, and long blonde hair falls over her shoulders in waves.
No wonder North told me there were better ones than me.
I could never compete with her.
“That’s Jessica, North’s wife and Lio’s mom, obviously.”
Jessica. That’s your name.
I want to ask more about her, but Saylor points out the next picture. It’s one of all the Jones boys together, and I take it from the fireplace to examine it more closely just as the light goes on, and I turn to find a sleepy-looking Hunter in the doorway.
“Hey, you all right?” he asks gruffly, rubbing his eyes.
He’s an adorable mess, his hair wild, wearing dark sleep pants and a white T-shirt, and it’s seriously doing things for me.
For fuck’s sake, Sloan, you just slept with his brother.
His sleepy eyes stay on Saylor’s hoodie I’m wearing, frowning, and my blood freezes in my veins.
But after a few seconds, his eyes find mine with a neutral expression, so I just answer his question.
“Sure, sorry, I couldn’t sleep,” I mumble while he walks over to my side, halting my hand as I’m about to place the picture frame back up.
“Nash looks like a dork in this. He hates this picture so much. The whole reason we keep it up there.” He smiles down at the frame, and I finally look at it more closely.
Nash stands beside North, looking as attractive as ever but somehow slightly different.
“Why do you say that?” I question, frowning as he points to the other side of the picture, where a much younger version of Nash stands beside Saylor, who has his arm around Nash’s shoulders.
Nash’s hair is much longer, coming down to his shoulders, and he’s wearing a red cap. He even has braces in the photo and a face full of acne.
“Yep, that’s who you just fucked, again,” Saylor mutters from my other side, and I have to stifle a laugh.
“I know, it’s hilarious, right? Our little playboy was a late bloomer.” Hunter chuckles, and I look more closely at the guy I first thought was Nash.
“That’s… you?” I ask, looking up at Hunter.
He gives me a forced smile. “I know, where Nash got hotter, I got—”
“Way more handsome,” I interrupt, looking at the picture. Hunter was undoubtedly hot, but I find the current version of Hunter standing next to me even more appealing.
The silence stretches, and I look up at Hunter again, finding his gaze already fixed on me, his eyes wide. “You… you think so?” he asks, sounding unsure.
I smile at him, my cheeks turning red. “I do,” I reply, scrambling to change the subject. “And North looks like he hasn’t got a broom up his ass.”
Hunter bursts out laughing, putting his hand over his mouth to stifle it.
“Oh my God, you’re right,” Saylor presses out between chuckles, leaning in closer to have a better look at the picture, his side touching mine, causing the prickling sensation to start again, making me shudder slightly.
Once Hunter recovers, he gets more serious. “He wasn’t always the way he is now. There was a lot that made him like that. All of us.”
“True,” Saylor breathes out, and the weight of sadness presses heavily on us.
My thumb glides over Saylor’s face, and Hunter notices. “That’s Saylor. He’s my other little brother. North is the oldest. He’s thirty-five now. I’m thirty-three, Saylor is…” Hunter looks thoughtful, furrowing his brows, but then continues, “… thirty, and Nash is the baby at twenty-five.”
“Even he thinks you’re fucking the baby brother,” Saylor mutters, and I shoot him a quick glare. “Fine, I’ll stop now,” he relents, rolling his eyes.
“The Jones Four, they called us. And we were always up to no good. Our mother was a poor woman.” Hunter chuckles, and Saylor chimes right in.
“I don’t want to know how many phone calls she got about the stuff we did.”
“You always talk in the past tense. What happened?” I ask Hunter, turning to him.
“Slo, what are you doing?” Saylor asks from behind me, stepping to my side.
“It’s a long and sad story,” Hunter mutters. “I don’t know if the middle of the night is the best time to tell it.”
“Let him be, Slo. Nothing good comes from bringing the past to the present. I already told you what happened. He isn’t coping very well,” Saylor cautions.
But I can’t let it go.
Maybe something that Hunter needs to get off his chest is the reason Saylor is stuck here.
Maybe he needs to hear Hunter’s side of the story.
I may have decided to keep Saylor, but I will not stop trying to find peace for him while I do. I hurt him, but like he said, we have each other, and I will fight for him.
He deserves it.
I walk over to the couch and sit with the picture frame in my lap, gesturing for Hunter to join me. “I have time, and sometimes late nights are the best for sharing sad stories,” I reply.
“Sloan,” Saylor chides me, scowling before turning to Hunter. “You don’t have to do that, brother. She wants me to hear it. But I know it. I lived it. I was there. You don’t have to put yourself through that.”
My heart sinks, and I realize I may not fully understand the extent of what I’m asking from Hunter.
Fuck, I should have kept my mouth shut.
Saylor’s expression seems to echo my thoughts.
Hunter hesitates for a moment before coming over to me.
He sits down and leans his forearms on his knees, letting his head fall, taking a few deep breaths before he begins to recount the story.
“We were a crew, Saylor, North, Mitchell, and I, and we were the best Jones & Sons had. North, he was the captain, mostly working the wheelhouse. That guy was amazing in figuring out the best spots for the lobsters, and everyone called him Maestro because he played that boat like a violin. Saylor was handling the crane, getting the cages up, and Mitchell and I were the ones to get the lobsters out, measure them, and get the small ones and the breeders back in the sea. It was a tight-knit team, a well-oiled machine, and we couldn’t have asked for a better group to share our days at sea with…
” Hunter pauses, his eyes distant, lost in the memories of those days.
“What about Nash?” I ask, trying to bring him back to the present.
“Nash was in his last year of high school, and he’d only join us on the boat during holidays,” Hunter replies.
“He was eighteen when it happened,” Saylor mutters from beside the couch.
A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of Hunter’s lips. “I loved working with this crew. It didn’t even feel like work. We had so much fun.”
“We really did,” Saylor whispers, his eyes as wistful as Hunter’s.
“That day,” Hunter continues, his voice taking on a somber tone.
“I remember it like it was yesterday, although it’s been seven years already.
The forecast was cloudy and windy, but nothing mentioned that the weather would change.
The storm came out of nowhere, taking us by surprise, and it was the worst I’ve ever seen.
The wind was so harsh it made you feel completely deaf and took your breath away.
Water droplets pelted around our heads like little bullets hitting our faces…
thunderclaps boomed every few seconds, and waves were crashing on deck. ”
I watch as Hunter forms his hands into fists, clenching them so hard his knuckles turn white.
“North was doing all he could to keep us from capsizing, but the waves were harsh, and not even he was good enough to keep an enormous wave from washing over the deck. I was hanging onto the railing already, struggling to hold on when I watched Mitchell just get washed away by it.”
My heart sinks, even though I already knew where the story is leading. I glance at Saylor, who is focused on the ground, lips turned down.
Hunter takes a deep breath, and when he continues, his voice trembles slightly. “Then I watched in horror as my little brother, my best friend, jumped after him.”
“You have no idea how fucking sorry I am, Hunter,” Saylor murmurs softly, his voice cracking with emotion. The pain etched in his expression mirrors Hunter’s.
“What happened next?” I ask, my voice barely above a whisper. It’s a delicate question, and I’m not sure if Hunter wants to share the painful details of that day with me. But I need to know. I need to understand how everything played out after what Saylor had told me.
And Saylor does too.
“North saw what I saw and came out of the wheelhouse to me,” Hunter shares, his voice trembling.
“We tried to get in the wire rope of the crane where Saylor was secured, but it seemed like it could rip, and that wasn’t an option.
We needed to get Saylor back. He was the one who always said that nobody was left behind, even for the smallest fucking things.
He would never have left one of us to fend on their own. So, I couldn’t leave him to it.”
Saylor pushes away a tear that had escaped him with the back of his hand. “Fuck, Hunt.”
I’m hurting Saylor even more with this tonight.
Maybe I shouldn’t have asked after all.
Hunter continues, his voice filled with pain, “North helped me put a rope around my waist. We had to scream against the wind to hear each other, all while getting rocked around on the boat by the harsh waves. He pleaded with me not to do it, but I wouldn’t listen.
There wasn’t much time. I ensured the rope was fastened securely on the railing and jumped after them, although it was already clear that Mitchell was gone. But there was still hope for Saylor.”
“Holy shit,” I whisper, my eyes wide with astonishment.
The bravery of these men, risking their lives for each other, was both remarkable and haunting.
There is no one left that would jump off a boat for me.
I glance at Saylor.
But I would jump after him just as easily.
“He’s a fucking idiot,” Saylor mutters, though his tone carries a hint of affectionate exasperation.