Chapter 14 #2
We round the corner of the workshop, and the smell of smoke, acrid and cloying, hits me square in the chest. One of the yachts – I think it’s the newest one that only got launched today – is burning.
The cabin is engulfed, and the flames lick their way up the mast, the heat incredible even from the relative safety of the quay heading where we stand as a group, frozen in shock.
I’m the first to react, instinct guiding me to get the boat away from the rest of the fleet.
If this boat is destroyed, if we can get it away from those on either side of it, hopefully it’ll at least be the only one.
I rush toward the mooring ropes, quickly followed by Archer and Cole, and we work to untie the yacht just as Aidan makes his way along the deck of the boat beside us and jumps onto the burning vessel, using his pocket knife to cut the rope for the mud weight that secures the front of the boat.
I mirror my brother and make my way to the yacht on the opposite side of the burning boat – Ladybird, I register, as I pass the stern and see the beautifully painted name – getting to the bow just as Aidan jumps onto the other boat.
We use our feet to push the burning yacht out into the river as Archer and Cole use quant poles to help.
I feel sick as I stand there watching the hard work of my brothers burn in the freezing darkness.
I feel even more sick when Corey pushes past me, a water hose connected to the large tank by the workshop, dragging behind him.
He leaps onto the back of Ladybird before I can process what he’s planning.
Rain follows suit and takes the second hose to the other side.
Looking back on this moment in the future, I’ll recognise this as the moment the boundaries I put up between me and Corey, flimsy as they may have been, began to crumble.
The fear of him getting hurt is overwhelming, especially when he pulls open the cabin doors and disappears inside the burning vessel.
“Corey, no,” I scream, over and over again, calling his name and telling him to get out, just leave it, get out.
Why is he not coming out? I’m not someone who panics by nature.
I’m a doctor – I was a surgeon for years – and I know how to keep a level head in a crisis.
But watching Corey put himself at risk like this, I can no longer deny I want to protect this man from everything and anything that might cause him harm.
My fear response is so out of character for me, and I can sense an urge in me that wants nothing more than to grab hold of him with both hands and hold him safe in my arms.
Not only that, but I want to lay him over my knee and spank his bare arse raw for being so goddamned reckless.
As the fire recedes, Corey and Rain make their way towards the back of the blackened, charred boat that has, nevertheless, undoubtedly been saved by their actions.
Rain tosses one of the mooring ropes to Aidan so he can pull the stricken boat back in.
Corey and Rain look at each other and seem to share looks of grim determination as they jump back onto the boats where Aidan and I are waiting for them.
Without a word, I walk to the dock, checking over my shoulder every few steps to make sure Corey is following.
I can hear Aidan giving Rain an earful about how he is more important than anything and how he shouldn’t have done what he did.
Almost as soon as our feet hit the ground, Archer is there to take the hose from Corey’s hands just as I grab his upper arm and lead him around the workshop, away from my brothers.
“Corey. What the fuck were you thinking? That was so reckless. Dangerous. You could have been hurt. You could have been killed.” My voice is steady, quiet, and utterly devoid of the roiling sea of emotions filling me.
“You should have let it go. What if you’d passed out in the cabin, hmm?
Where I couldn’t see you? Fuck, Corey, I couldn’t see you! ”
He won’t look at me, and I take hold of his shoulders and shake him gently, despite my frustration, until finally his gaze drags up to mine and our eyes meet. The tears that fall from his eyes, leaving tracks in the soot on his cheeks, gut me.
He looks distraught.
But not at what just happened, no. At the way I’m speaking to him.
Fuck.
“I was just trying to help,” he says, voice small and broken.
I take a deep breath, the sharp stench of smoke from his hair, his skin, his clothes, too stark a reminder of what could have happened, and yet not enough for me to miss how heavily my words have landed on Corey’s shoulders.
“Fuck, I’m sorry, Corey,” I say, much more gently, pulling him into me and pressing my forehead against his. He closes his eyes, and I do the same, happy to just feel him breathing. “I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that, I just… You scared the shit out of me.”
“I’m sorry. I—”
“No, little rabbit, I’m sorry.” He huffs out a laugh at the stupid nickname and pulls back to look at me. “I was just scared. Scared something could’ve happened to you and I would never…”
“You’d never what?” he asks, big green eyes locked on mine, our faces close. So fucking close I can almost taste his breath, which catches on an inhale as my lips move infinitesimally closer to his.
This is one of those moments where time slows to a halt. Our breathing synchronises. For every inhale I make, he exhales, a give and take of togetherness in space and time, our bodies perfectly in tune with one another.
After almost two weeks of ghosting him, though, I can’t make things worse by doing what I want to do and pressing my lips to his. Instead, I press my forehead more firmly to his for a fraction of a second, and then I pull away.
The look of hurt on his face guts me, and I feel like the worst kind of person.
“S-sorry,” I stammer, trying to recover my equilibrium. “A-are you OK? Did you hurt yourself?”
He won’t look me in the eye, but he replies.
“I’m fine. Thank you for your concern, but I’m fine.”
At the sound of the others rounding the workshop, he turns away from me and makes his way indoors with Aidan and Rain to wait for the police to arrive.
I follow behind, my feet like lead, dragging the chains of my bad behaviour behind me.