12. Wyn
Wyn
I’m tempted to ask Miele how she has so much energy before the sun is up.
I doubt it’s what I’m used to. I mean, I know she’s nearly ten years younger than me, but damn. Is it caffeine? Pre-workout? How is she a big ball of energy?
I stifle yet another yawn as she digs through her drawers. We’re in a small bungalow closer to the end of their compound. Miele mentioned we were closest in size, but I’ve been fighting sleep since she dragged me out of bed a few minutes ago with surprising strength.
“Here we are!” she squeals, holding up scraps of fabric before turning and grinning to me.
Once my eyes focus on what she’s wearing, they balloon.
“Um–”
“Try this on! I’ll be back!” Miele throws whatever’s in her hand at me before rushing out of the room.
I hold it out away from me. Now, I’m by no means a prude, but even I wouldn’t wear the bathing suit Miele gave me.
At least, I think it’s a bathing suit.
Standing, I amble over to the drawer she was digging through, and find a more appropriate option. Clearly, she’s convinced Rico to let me onto the boat she was talking about. I hate tan lines, but I definitely want more than my pussy lips and nipples covered around all of Rico’s cousins.
And Rico.
I only have to rummage for a little before finding an olive green two-piece string bikini. The top fits like a glove, but the bottom… Miele definitely has more booty than me.
There’s a white sarong hanging out of the drawer above it, and I grab that and tie it artfully around my waist.
My teeth comb my bottom lip as I take a deep breath and turn toward the full-length mirror in the feminine room. I’m careful about avoiding mirrors, even before I did what I did.
But now, I need to see.
My hair’s growing back more. Bright red hairs that’ll probably get darker cover my entire scalp now. My eyebrows have grown out, too, matching the hair on the top of my head.
I’m back to being a Raggedy Ann doll.
The sarong covers how tight I had to tie the bottoms. I’ll be fine, as long as I don’t actually get into the water.
The door opens, taking my gaze from the mirror to a grinning Miele.
“Beautiful!” she gushes.
My hands go to my scalp. “You have a green scarf?”
Her smile falters, before she goes back to the chest of drawers. Awkwardly, she stops, and turns to me.
“No.”
“Miele,” I sigh, but her grin is back before she starts pulling me out of the room.
“You don’t need it, Wynter Snow,” she says, punctuating it with a wink.
I begin to bite the skin on the inside of my cheeks. It’s one thing to be walking around the grounds, but there’s something about looking fabulous out at sea.
I’ve been on a yacht once. Sheisty’s wife, Pandora, chartered one for her birthday, and we had a ball.
I was also three sheets to the wind. So now, sober, and surrounded by people who want to keep me sober, I wonder how this will go.
I don’t realize Miele doesn't have on a bathing suit until we’ve reached the dock on the other side of the hotel. Before I can ask her, she points toward the medium sized boat I’m guessing we'll be on, and the figure climbing onto the dock.
The shirtless figure. With the eye patch. Blocking out the sunrise like this is some type of movie.
It’s barely seven in the morning and here Rico is, abs and pecs greased up as he saunters over to us.
Perfect body. Perfect little oasis in paradise. He even makes the eye patch look good.
“Tell Wynter she doesn’t need to cover her head,” Miele says, giving him a side hug.
He regards me shrewdly, eyes dragging from my unpainted toes to the last freckle on my forehead.
He flicks his gaze to his cousin without even acknowledging me. “Don’t let Mars con you into giving him a sweet before his nap.”
Miele rolls her eyes. “Don’t tell me how to spoil my favorite cousin. You two have fun!” She scurries off, ignoring me, too.
I’m almost afraid to look at Rico. Us… alone… at sea?
I’ve seen this SVU episode before.
“You tired?”
I fight myself not to flinch at his saccharine voice, almost as hard as I fight not to ask him why he’s asking if he doesn’t care.
My arms wrap around my middle as I nod.
“There’s a cabin you can rest in.” He holds a hand out, like it’s something we do.
Have we? Held hands before?
I gawk at it like he’ll grow claws. But he just holds it out, steady, like we have all the time in the world.
When I finally gather the courage to look at him, he’s already gazing at me. His good eye is hooded, lashes so long they look like they probably rest on his cheeks.
“Take my hand.”
Oh, what the hell. I unwrap an arm and place my hand in his, and let him lead me onto the boat.
It’s nice as hell. The deck is covered and has tan leather seats that look new. I only get a quick glimpse before I’m led down the stairs below deck.
“We usually use this boat for the sunrise cruises, but I took it out of commission for today.”
“And what’s today?” I ask as we enter a nicely sized bedroom.
Rico just shrugs. “You can rest here. Come up after you’ve slept.” He drops my hand and leaves me alone.
I must have waked up in the fucking twilight zone.
Turning, I plop down on the circular bed. It feels heavenly, and my eyes are closed before my back hits the covers.
After a nap that had to have been at least three hours, I’m bright eyed and bushy tailed.
I’m actually in a good enough mood to brave being out at sea with Rico and no weapons, so with a little pep in my step, I go up the stairs to the cockpit.
There’s a fishing rod idle, while Rico sits, a hat covering his head.
Still shirtless. Back muscles moving as he turns to face me.
I take a seat on the couch next to him, pulling my legs up. The sun is high in the sky, shining of the cerulean water.
It’s only us out here, the sounds of calm water serenading us, and spots of clouds keeping the sun from beating too hard.
Still, I shift so that I’m under the shade.
“It’s peaceful out here.”
“It is,” he agrees. “I like to come out here… to think.”
I wrap my arms around my legs. “What do you think about out here?”
“You always asked the hard questions, Snow.”
“And you’ve always dodged them,” I volley. “It’s just you, me, and the sea. Can you let your guard down for once in your life? We already told each other the worst of the worst.”
He smirks at me. “You think so?”
My life flashes before my eyes, and whatever face I make has Rico chuckling.
“That’s what I thought. I know I ain’t told you shit.”
“Okay, well, get into it. I bet my life was more wild than yours. At one point I was making more money than the guys.”
Rico’s eyebrows pull, but he sighs and moves so that he’s sitting on the deck floor.
Pulling his fishing rod out of the water, he gestures to me. “Fasho. No x-rated shit though.”
I wave him off. “You’re no fun. Besides, randomly, I think most of my exes are dead anyway.”
“Is that right?” he ponders, narrowing his eyes. “I guess, proceed.”
Something is nagging at me, just beyond my mind. I feel like I’m missing something that was said, but with my mind being clear against its will, it’s had to manually sift through and delete shit that could hurt itself.
Still, I tilt my head. “That’s not odd to you?”
He blinks that one good eye slowly. “No. You gon’ start? After I left for Basic Training.”
I shake my head, trying to file that away for later, but it’s a toss up.
“Such a weirdo. Anyway, after you left… I’d just hit a big ass lick.” I grin, holding his gaze. That was when me and Set balled out in the Galleria.
This could be fun.
“So, when did you get your boating license?”
After hours of trading the most outrageous stories back and forth, and a sandwich I made him bite first to see if it was poisoned, Rico spread a blanket out onto something he calls a bow and now we’re here; me laying on my stomach to get an even tan, him gazing at the sunset with his arms wrapped around his legs.
I’m tempted to pull my bikini top off, but I don’t know how weird he is about nudity. So I’ve resigned myself to cute triangle lines.
Too bad I don’t have a phone to take pictures.
“Years ago. I was still in the Marines.”
“Full of surprises, that you are.”
Rico turns his head to face me, a small smile on his lips.
“I wanna say some shit, but I don’t think you gon’ remember. Wassup with that?”
I turn my head and rest it on my folded arms. “Huh?”
“All day I been asking you little shit, and you’ll play along, but you’ve been making shit up as you go, thinking if you get me to talk more, I won’t notice. C’mon, Snow. I notice everything.”
“You are… so annoying,” I huff, turning to face him.
“And yo short term memory is shot. Do you even remember that you did this to me?”
He points to his stupid eye patch, and I bristle.
“Yes, I know I cut you. Just like I know you fucked not only my best friend, but your friend’s adoptive mother and burned me.”
Resting his big ass head on the crook of his arm, he smirks. “That’s all you remember huh?”
“That’s all that was important,” I spit. “I’d always heard about you with older women, but Tiny? Didn’t she raise y’all?”
“I got a mama, Snow. Bitch ain’t raised me, and fasho ain’t raise Set. I wouldn’t be surprised if they fucked, too.”
“Now you’re just being mean. How could you do that? Take me out of it… how could you do that to him?”
“I did what I had to fucking do!” Rico clenches his hands, but he keeps holding my gaze, even as his eye stretches and his teeth comb his bottom lip.
Then, abruptly, he smiles and shakes his head. “Ain’t no point in having this talk. You not gon’ remember it tomorrow. Only that I fucked her, and fucked us up.”
I don’t like how resigned he sounds. Almost sad.
It has me lifting until I’m seated on my butt, facing him. He reaches over, and my breath stalls when he lifts one of my straps. Just a little, enough to see my tan.
“You toasted, fasho. Can’t even call you Snow foreal.” He places the strap back where it was and folds his arms again.
He’s right in a way… about my mind.
Ever since my accident, my short-term memory has been hit or miss.