Chapter 10
Ishould have asked what the day would entail before feigning such enthusiasm. Not that anyone would tell me, since part of the show’s premise is ensuring Brody can’t prepare for the excursion.
So, I’m completely surprised when, instead of waiting for our Jeep to arrive like the day before, Dave announces, “Today we’re filming here!”
“At the resort?” I ask, and Dave nods.
It makes zero sense that the resort, a serene escape for guests, would have activities for thrill seekers.
It makes even less sense when Jamie takes the lead, motioning for us to follow her. She walks next to the path so Corbin can get footage of Nate and me walking without her being caught on camera.
“Do you have any idea what we’re doing?” I ask Nate, hoping I’ve concealed my concern. What have I agreed to?
“No idea.” Nate lowers his voice. “If it’s on the resort, it can’t be too difficult, right? Then I can focus on personality or whatever.”
Right, and I’m helping him, which doesn’t entail panicking about the excursion before it even starts. Though it’s impossible not to when we reach the beach and remove our shoes.
As soft sand squishes between my toes, my stomach lurches. We’re at a different one than the night before, but still next to water. Big water. In the shallows, two jet skis bob.
I grab my locket, barely able to work out my question. “We’re jet skiing?”
Nate’s arm is like a warm blanket around my shoulders, confirming we’re on the same page and he’s shutting this thing down.
“Yeah,” he agrees. “This seems straightforward. Between this and the hike yesterday, should I be worried someone thinks I’m losing my touch?”
He knows Dave is worried about that, but Nate should be more concerned about the daggers I’m shooting at him with my eyes. Does he really expect to avoid this excursion by pretending it’s beneath him?
Dave laughs. “You know we like to start the season a little easier and get our scenic shots before we get into things. Plus, we made some adjustments for the newbie angle. We’re focusing on activities easy enough for others looking to get into the lifestyle if they aren’t just sofa warriors.”
When Nate laughs in response, it feels like it’s at my expense.
His arm, still draped across my shoulders, is less like a comforting blanket and more like a misfiring electric one—shocking my system but not waking me from this nightmare.
Clearly, these people have lost their minds.
Since when is going out into deep and dangerous water on a small vessel with no real relevant experience easy?
Nate must feel me tense because his head tips toward me, his expression a mix of confusion and concern. “Have you not been before?”
I shrug out of his embrace and wrap my arms tightly around my chest like a shield. “No, and I won’t be going now. I can’t do this—won’t do it. No way.”
I’m shaking my head so profusely I almost don’t hear Nate ask the crew to give us a minute or the sound of them walking away.
“Abigail.”
I still at my name, letting Nate come into focus in front of me. His brows pinch together while his gray eyes dart across my face, as if he’s trying to solve a complicated puzzle and can’t quite figure out where to begin.
“You’re freaking out,” he states. “What’s going on?”
I turn toward the water, facing the issue head-on.
The soothing voice of the therapist who supported me through my exposure therapy mentally lists the facts.
Buoyancy is a real thing. Safety equipment exists.
I am a decent swimmer. I have been on a boat before.
A much slower pontoon, sure, but still a boat.
My family was there (before my parents’ divorce), so there were people to watch over me.
People to save me if something were to go wrong.
I shake my head and refocus on listing the facts. Buoyancy. Safety equipment. Swimming skills. Boat experience. Everyone is sober. The crew, including a lifeguard, are watching and ensuring our safety. This isn’t like Mexico. I won’t end up like Sarah.
I won’t because there’s no way I’m doing this.
I’m not ready yet, and a key part of recovering from trauma is accepting my own boundaries.
Limitations, as I used to call them, until my therapist encouraged me to use the word boundaries.
A boundary can be moved at the right time under the right circumstances.
This is not the time. With Nate and the crew and the cameras here, it’s not the circumstances either.
My grip tightens around my locket, and my view of the ocean blurs as the words pour out of me. “I can’t do this. There’s no way. Figure something else out.”
“You don’t need to do any of it. Not if you don’t want to.” Nate is back to being a comforting blanket I internally grip for dear life.
“I…I don’t want to let Brody down.”
It’s the truth, just not all of it. Brody obviously thinks I can do this; otherwise, he would never have pitched the idea. There’s nothing that man cares about more than his career, and now I can’t do one seemingly “easy” thing to help him.
Sure, he hadn’t talked to me before putting me on the show, but I care about him professionally and personally. It isn’t as if I can sit back and watch him fail without trying to save him. I need to prove he’s entrusted his brand and career to the right hands. My hands, even if they are shaky ones.
“Who cares about Brody right now?” Nate asks, surprising me. “He’s not here, and he’s the one who got us into this situation to begin with.”
“Yeah, but?—”
Nate raises a hand to stop me. “Brody said you could do enough for the cameras, right? A minute on the water, or no time, is enough. You can stand on the shore pretending you’re going to do it! If they want you on the show, they can whip out some editing magic during post-production.”
“You think so?”
Nate nods. “You came to Fiji to help Brody with his brand, not to take on his entire career.”
“Yeah, but everyone expects me to?—”
“It doesn’t matter what anyone else expects. You shouldn’t feel pressured to do anything you don’t want to do. The choice is yours and yours alone. I’ll support whatever you decide.”
With Nate on my side, I want to make a different choice. I wish I could for him and for Brody, but I can’t. Not today. “I can’t do this, Nate. Not this excursion, at least.”
“That’s more than okay. Promise. I can carry this one, while you focus on your actual job.”
Nate waves the crew back over, and Corbin lowers his camera as if he’s been filming us.
It’s fine since we don’t have mics on, and the footage might help in editing to show I was on the beach theoretically getting ready to go jet skiing.
But the cameras are another thing that will take getting used to.
“Ready to roll?” Dave asks as Corbin adjusts his camera lens.
“Abigail is going to sit this one out, but I’m ready.”
I might imagine Jamie’s smirk at the remark, but the look of irritation on Dave’s face is very real.
“How are we supposed to capture this new angle if Abby doesn’t take part? That’s the concept you pitched, and an update I already sent over to the streaming network. We can’t go changing things again.”
“In an unbelievable oversight on my part, I forgot to ask Abigail if she’d like to take part in the excursions.
” Nate looks at me before saying the next part.
“She doesn’t have to do anything she doesn’t want; it’s her call.
Any adrenaline junkie should make that decision for themselves.
This is a dangerous hobby—sport—and lifestyle.
It’s important everyone takes the time to assess the risks involved and decide where their comfort level is. ”
Dave snaps a finger and points at Nate. “That’s the angle!
Let’s get you saying that again for the cameras.
Then we’ll have you both do the intro and safety briefing from our friends over here.
” Dave motions to the hut where two staff members and a lifeguard are watching.
Then he gestures to the ocean where a couple of boats with crew members are waiting for us to get started.
“Then we’ll get Brody out on the water.”
Green for go. Red for stop. Something about a throttle.
That’s all I remember from the safety briefing as I settle onto a rock in the shade to watch Nate and get some content for social media.
Nate chats with Dave, listening to directions I’m too far away to hear.
Then Nate steps back, reaching an arm over his shoulder to pull his shirt over his head.
The action is unexpected, though of course he doesn’t need a shirt for going in the water.
It’s nowhere near as shocking as what’s underneath the material.
Do writers really have abs? If so, it’s the world’s best-kept secret.
Nate shrugs on a neon yellow life jacket, featuring one of Brody’s sponsor’s logos on the front and Rush in hot pink on the back.
I snap a quick photo for social media and post it while Nate heads into the water.
He’s out there for a couple of hours before Dave motions for him to come back in, repeating the instructions into Nate’s earpiece.
A staff member wades out to meet Nate, anchoring the jet ski as Nate unclips his life jacket and splashes through the shallows toward the shore.
Water droplets make themselves at home on Nate’s chest, and the hybrid shorts, provided by one of Brody’s sponsors, cling to Nate’s thighs as he wades ashore and crosses the sand to Dave.
Not that I’m noticing anything about Nate’s appearance!
Just taking notes to share with the sponsor.
I snap a quick photo on my phone for social media and am getting ready to post it when both men look at me, then back at each other.
Conspiring. That’s what Nate is doing, even after he claimed participating is my choice. I cross my arms, a fresh bout of anger flaring up in me.