Chapter 18
Eighteen
The sailboat wobbles beneath me as I clamber aboard, and immediately, I regret every life choice that’s brought me to this point. My balance vanishes and I flail, arms windmilling like I’m starring in a slapstick comedy I didn’t audition for.
The boat rocks harder, and I lurch sideways, seconds from tumbling overboard in what would surely be the least dignified splash of my life, when a warm, calloused hand wraps around mine.
“Careful,” Alder says, steadying me like it’s nothing. “Dramatic exits are usually more effective after the date, not before.”
My eyebrows shoot up. “This isn’t a date. We’re just…changing the location of our conversation.”
“Of course. Yes. Simply a conversation,” he says with a mock-serious nod. “I mean, what else would it be called when two people are alone on a sailboat with a picnic and unspeakable tension. Very casual.”
I open my mouth to fire back, but the boat sways again—harder this time—and I stumble straight into him.
His arms catch me without hesitation, strong and warm and way too solid for my emotional safety. My hands land on his chest, and unfortunately, it’s still as annoyingly perfect as I remember—broad, steady, stupidly well-built beneath his linen shirt.
“Think of it like riding a horse,” he murmurs, still holding me a little too close.
“A horse?” I ask, trying to sound unimpressed even though my pulse is tap-dancing behind my ribs.
“Well,” he says with a lazy shrug as he gently guides me toward the center of the boat, “a horse made of wood. With no saddle. Or reins. And floating.”
“Oh, perfect,” I mutter, catching my balance again. “So basically a death trap with a nautical flair.”
“I prefer to think of it as charmingly adventurous. Besides, it’s only a death trap if you fall overboard.”
“Comforting,” I say, eyeing the shifting water.
He flashes a crooked smile. “You’re the one who agreed to come.”
“Yes, well, I also once agreed to get bangs, so clearly my judgment is flawed.”
His laugh slides right under my skin. It feels good to make him laugh.
“Sit,” he says, motioning toward the bench. “I promise to keep all death-defying heroics to a minimum.”
I slide onto the bench and grip it for dear life, stomach fluttering in that traitorous, giddy way that only happens when you’re in mortal danger or about to fall in love. I’m not sure which one this is yet. Possibly both.
If only Amanda could see me now.
The thought makes me snort.
“Something funny?”
I open my mouth to respond, but laughter tumbles out instead—uncontrollable, impossible to stop.
The sound bubbles up, bigger than me, breaking free of the knot that’s been sitting heavy in my chest for the past three days.
It spills out until I’m doubled over, gasping, tears gathering in the corners of my eyes.
Alder watches me with the same reverence most men reserve for a home-cooked meal or football. Then, slowly, he closes his eyes, inhales, and tilts his face toward the sun like he’s soaking up the sound.
“I can’t—” I try to catch my breath. “It’s just…this.”
I gesture wildly at everything—the boat, the ocean, the towering pines, the castle behind us like a Gothic fever dream.
“We’re in another realm, Alder. A literal, actual different world. I was supposed to be crying into my boxed wine while I packed up my life this week. Instead, here I am. On a boat in a magickal kingdom with a man who may or may not have spent the past decade emotionally wrecking me.”
He chuckles. “When you put it that way, I suppose it does sound a bit unconventional.”
I burst out laughing again. “You think?”
Alder’s tall frame is silhouetted against the sparkling waves as he moves to the mast. The wind teases his hair, brushing it across his forehead.
In a few deft movements, he hoists the sail, and the fabric catches the wind with a satisfying snap.
The boat jerks forward, the sudden motion pulling a startled yelp from my throat.
My hands fly to the edge of the bench, gripping tight as the hull wobbles beneath me.
But then the wind catches the sail just right, and we’re gliding. The lurching steadies, the rocking evens out, and the world around us melts into the hush of water against wood.
I exhale a pent-up breath, and the tension in my shoulders loosens. The breeze tangles my hair, salty and crisp against my skin, and for the first time since this whole bizarre storybook saga started, my brain stops buzzing with questions and contingencies. Just this moment, this feeling.
A thought blooms within me, slow and unexpected. It takes root, deep and certain, warming me from the inside out.
I’m proud of myself.
For standing up for myself. For not backing down when it would’ve been easier to let him charm his way out of the truth. I didn’t cave. I didn’t chase. I didn’t shrink to fit the space he offered.
I release a slow breath, my fingers loosening their grip on the edge of the boat. How many times have I mistaken control for safety? How often have I convinced myself that being wanted was the same as being chosen? How many versions of myself did I minimize to keep the peace—to keep him?
And now, with the wind on my skin, the vastness of the water, the horizon wide and unexplored, every fear, every second-guessing thought feels so unimportant.
I glance at Alder, and his gaze is already on me. A slow smile tugs at his lips. “Gold coin for your thoughts.”
“I was just thinking…” I inhale. The crisp air fills my lungs, scrubbing away the weight of everything I’ve carried for too long. “That for the first time in a long time, I feel like I finally belong to myself.”
I expect the words to feel fragile, like they might shatter the moment they’re spoken aloud—but they don’t. They’re solid, real. True.
The ocean stretches out before us, an endless expanse of shimmering blue that melts into the sky. The wind rushes by, and the sunlight warms my skin as I let the feeling sink into my bones, let it expand and take up space inside me, claiming every part of me that once felt worthless and afraid.
The breeze picks up, the sail snapping taut, and the boat surges forward.
We skim across the water, cutting through the waves like we were always meant to, and a flicker of exhilaration sparks to life in my chest. It builds, burning like wildfire, consuming hesitation, doubt, and every reason I’ve ever given myself to play small.
I tip my head back, laughing as the wind rushes past, lifting me higher, setting something free inside me that I didn’t even know was caged.
And then, without warning, the wind turns.
A sharp gust slams into the sail, yanking it sideways. The boat lurches violently, one side lifting out of the water, and my laughter shatters into a startled scream. My stomach plummets. The once-soothing rhythm of the waves transforms into a crashing roar beneath me.
“Shit.” Alder’s grin vanishes as he scrambles to steady the rudder.
My fingers dig into the edge of the boat, my breath ragged as panic seizes my chest. “Shit?” I echo, my voice pitching higher. “What do you mean, shit?”
“We’re off course,” he says tightly, wrestling with the tiller. The boat groans in protest, the sail flapping wildly overhead. His calm demeanor is gone, replaced with tightly wound urgency. “The wind’s too strong. If we don’t get it under control, we’re going for a swim.”
My stomach somersaults as the boat tilts again, the hull groaning against the surge of the waves splashing dangerously close to the edge. “Swim? As in the ocean?”
“Unless that island is closer than it looks to be,” he shouts back, his voice strained as he fights the wind. “Gemma, I need you to help me.”
“How?” My heart hammers so hard I feel it in my throat. “I don’t know boats! I’m not a sailor!”
“You don’t have to be,” he hollers, tossing me a coil of rope. “Just pull when I tell you. Got it?”
I hesitate, my fight or flight response settling on securely on freeze.
The sail flaps violently, the wind screeching through the rigging. The boat could capsize at any second.
My palms sweat against the rope heavy in my hands. “No, I definitely don’t got it.”
“You do! You’ve got it!” His blue eyes meet mine, clear and steady despite the storm of movement around us. There’s fear there, sure—but also belief. In me. “You can do this.”
I nod, swallowing hard.
“On my count—one, two, three, pull!”
I yank the rope with everything I have. It burns my palms, and my muscles scream as the wind fights me at every turn. Alder is beside me, bracing the sail, his jaw clenched and his body taut with effort. The boat pitches wildly. Saltwater sprays my face. But I grit my teeth and pull harder.
“Almost there!” Alder shouts, his voice barely audible over the howling wind. He’s a windswept mess, but he doesn’t waver. “Pull, Gemma!”
I give one final, desperate tug, and the sail snaps back into place with a loud crack. The boat rights itself and steadies beneath us, slicing forward again in a clean, steady line.
I collapse onto the bench, chest heaving, hands trembling as I drop the rope, and the tension drains from my body all at once. “We were about two seconds away from a full Titanic moment.”
The wind whips around Alder, his shirt clinging to his chest like he’s starring in a nautical romance novel as he exhales a slow breath. “You didn’t fall in. I didn’t crash us into anything. And the sail is still attached. I think of this as a win.”
“Is that your benchmark for success? Not sinking and not dying?”
He grins, shameless. “You say that like I didn’t just take your breath away.”
I groan, tipping my chin toward the sky. “Why do I talk to you?”
“Because I’m charming,” he says, sitting beside me. “And alarmingly handsome. And you’re secretly having a good time.”
I glance at him from the corner of my eye. “You forgot modest.”
“I left that one out intentionally.”
We sit in silence for a moment, the boat swaying gently, the wind curling between us.