Chapter Eighteen
“Is this normal?” I ask from the cabin several hours later, gripping hold of the screwed down table like it’s my own personal anchor. “This doesn’t feel normal.”
“Let me go check,” Gus calls back over the roar of the waves, crashing against the side of the boat.
I’m practically green now we’ve hit open ocean, leaving the more timid waters of the bay behind.
I don’t generally get motion sickness, but this is another level.
The boat is jumping waves. The front, where I’m sat, is being thrust upwards, pausing for half a second, only for it to come slamming back down, my tummy swooping, those prawns climbing ever higher up my throat.
I would scramble towards the toilet beside the kitchen but, honestly, I’m afraid of what I’ll find.
Through the small window opposite me there’s a flash of light. I count slowly to work out how far away we are from the eye of the storm, only to make it to three before a booming clap of thunder crashes overhead.
All I know is that one moment I’m conscious of my movements, aware of my surroundings. The next, all I can process is how tightly I can grip hold of the things within my reach.
The lights in the cabin flicker then shut off completely.
There’s a long and vicious growl which could be attributed to the engine, more thunder, or something even worse.
Either way, I pinch my eyes closed and make silent pleas to the universe that I don’t die at the hands of Roko and his rusty fishing boat.
I’m sure there are more flashes of light. At one point, it’s so bright my eyelids turn pink. I have no idea how long I’m like this before large, warm hands squeeze my arms. Strong legs link with mine under the table, grounding me further.
“Gus?” I whisper.
“I’ve got you, Sara. Roko isn’t worried. He says we’re ok. It’s ok.”
More thunder. More crashing downwards after riding a wave, the boat completely at the sea’s mercy.
I change my grip, releasing the table and finding Gus instead, my head pressing into the warm groove of his shoulder. He continues to hold me, rubbing soothing circles over my back.
“Distract me,” I say. “Tell me something.”
I can feel Gus’s pulse against my cheek. Curls run along my arm wrapped around his neck.
“Did you hear when Grace asked whether I wanted the news?”
I nod against his chest.
He exhales softly, trying to calm his own breathing too.
“The band is almost definitely breaking up without me. It’s why I had to get away from it all.
We finished the world tour back in March and it ended on crap terms. We used to be like brothers, you know?
But after all this time, it’s like I barely know them anymore.
” The boat pitches forward before rocking back again, rain clapping against the deck so aggressively it sounds like needles.
I tighten my grip on Gus and he lets me.
“This whole thing was meant to be just for the summer, twelve years ago. Just four mates messing around with guitars and some cover songs at a summer fair.” He readjusts himself, not letting go. He smells really good. “You ok, Sara?”
I grumble in response.
“I know it’s a cop out but I just… I had to get away.”
I’m more intrigued by this distraction than I care to admit. “And why are you breaking up?”
He takes a moment to consider. “I’m told this is the natural order of things. That we had a good run, went on longer than was good for our careers. That, in the end, the others were always going to go on and do different things with their lives.”
“Like what?”
Gus shrugs. “Will has his daughter, Olive. Her mother is rarely around, so he’s just trying to be the best dad he can be.
Callum’s uncle died a few months ago and he inherited a farm park that he needs to fix or sell or…
I don’t know. He stopped talking to me properly ages ago.
Same with Will.” He pauses as the boat sputters violently.
“The two of them had this big fight over their own fucking egos and then I was torn between them.”
“What about the other guy?”
“Jax?”
“Yeah.”
He tightens his grip. “We don’t talk about him.”
I swallow. “So, you think it’s a given,” I say, “but you still don’t want to hear it?”
“It just pisses me off. I know that if they make the call, it’s over. That they don’t need my decision to call it off. It’s just how easy it is for them, you know? It’s like they broke it, so they don’t give a damn about throwing it away.”
“It took all four of us to build the band,” he adds. “Now they each take turns tearing it apart. And I have to sit here and watch them do it without any say or input. One man doesn’t make a pop band. We were barely holding onto it all after…”
“Jax?”
Gus clears his throat. “Mmm.”
“And now you’re hiding from it all.”
“No, I’m not hiding. I’m just choosing to be ignorant. That’s what the photography is about. It’s about doing something I loved before the band. Something that’s just… mine.”
I nod, my breathing steadier. “I get it.”
“It’s been twelve years. So much of my life. What I can’t wrap my head around is how none of them are mourning it like I am.”
“Well, maybe they are. Not everyone let’s people see them sad or in pain. Sometimes those emotions are best kept to yourself.”
“That may be true,” he agrees. “But it was a team effort for so long. We each gave so much of ourselves to this life. All the suffering, sleepless nights, the anxiety. The times when we felt so out of control. It’s like it was all for nothing.
I feel like a massive chunk of me is missing without it.
I don’t know how I rebuild, you know? What on earth do I do, Sara, that will measure up to what I’ve already done? Where do I go from here?”
“I think that has to come from you. But maybe you’re putting too much pressure on it. Maybe it can be something smaller, something that brings you joy, something completely yours.”
Gus sighs, resting his chin on my head. “Man, you must be the best big sister.”
“Well, if I am, I’m still doing something wrong.”
The main light in the cabin flickers on again for a moment then hisses and buzzes back off. I whimper as the boat crashes down once more, my tummy dropping even faster. Gus hugs me to him.
“Gus?” I whisper.
“Yeah?”
“If I die…”
“You’re not going to die,” he interrupts, prodding me gently in the back.
“But if I do, can you tell my sisters I died doing something reckless?”
“I don’t know about that,” he jokes, pretending to consider my request. “What if they blame me?”
“They won’t. You’re a popstar. They’ll thank you for coming by and Millie will probably hit on you. I apologise in advance.”
I don’t hear him laugh, but I feel the trembles of it.
“And if I die—”
“You probably will.”
“—tell Grace you did it. She’ll thank you and make you an honorary member of the Kenwood household.”
“I’d accept.”
“But seriously, if I die—”
“Which you will,” I interrupt again.
“—can you do me a favour?”
I pause, pretending to consider his request. It’s only fair. I sigh dramatically for effect. “It better not be weird.”
“Take my camera. Get your arse back on that cruise. And make sure you have the time of your life.” He must feel my hesitation because he continues. “You do deserve it, Sara.”
I groan. “I’m trying to believe that. But I feel like the universe is telling me otherwise.”
“This life-threatening storm is purely coincidence.”
I actually laugh and he squeezes me a little tighter. “I hope so. Like I said, I think its mostly disappointment in myself now. I can’t believe I didn’t throw him out the second I found those messages. It makes me feel sick when I think about how I nearly married him.”
“Because you wanted to be wrong. Being right would alter your future, and because running meant letting people down.”
I push against him to make space between us, but our legs stay entwined underneath the table. “How do you know that?” I peer up at him.
“I guess that’s what the music industry felt like for me. You listen to the people around you and hope they have your best intentions at heart. And if you question them, test their loyalties, you’re the one who is difficult. The one they can’t work with anymore.”
“It’s horrible to have someone so close to you betray your trust,” I say.
“God, I know. Trust me. It completely destabilises your reality.” He blows out a breath. “I fear I never learnt from it though. Because even knowing what I do, I still struggle with it.”
I frown. “Why’s that?”
“We had a two-year clause which meant we’d have to work with our production company to promote our music, do events, all that sort of stuff. We’re six months into it. And suddenly, I’m the only one left.”
Being that I negotiate contracts for a living, my ears prick up. “If we survive, I’d be happy to look at that contract with you.”
“And I would share it but—”
“But there’s a clause that prevents you,” I finish for him.
“You got it.”
“Well, there must be a loophole,” I say.
“My agent says there’s not.”
“Hmm.” I ponder on all the inevitabilities that may prevent someone from exiting a contract early when others have managed to terminate.
“Sara?”
“Mmm.”
“I hope you know that you did the right thing.”
I sniff, tipping my head back. “I know it in my heart. I lost all love for him the moment I saw those messages. It was like waking up from a long dream. Everything started to fall into place; my reality wasn’t what I thought it was.”
“Your heart is wise.”
“That better not be a line from one of your songs.”
He snorts. “See, if you were a fan, you’d know. That’s all me.”
“Oh, so my wisdom is rubbing off on you. How annoying.”
“It’s the life-threatening situation. There’s no other explanation.”
I gasp. “So, what you’re saying is, you do think we’re going to die?”
He only laughs, kissing the top of my head as we crash against another wave and the boat groans.