Page 5 of Crash Over Us
“I can show you how.”
The radio crackled. I picked up the receiver. “Hold on.” I motioned to Gabe that we had a call coming in. I turned the volume up.
“Coast Guard Cutter 21, this is base.”
“Base, this is Coast Guard Cutter 21. Go ahead.” I waited for the call.
“Coast Guard Cutter 21, we have a distress call.” My posture changed. I waved at Gabe to be ready. He approached the cabin.
“Copy that, base. Do you have the coordinates and call number?”
I waited while the details came over the radio.
Gabe joined me by the wheel. “What’s going on?” he asked. “What’s the call?”
“Distress signal for swimmer overboard and stalled engine,” I explained. “Get ready we need to haul ass.” I shifted us into high gear and sped out toward the ocean. Gabe braced himself, holding on to the bridge.
The adrenaline pumped through my veins. It had been a while since we had an emergency call. That was a good thing with the summer coming to a close.
An uneventful summer was good news for a rescue swimmer. Although, Gabe sometimes mentioned how he thought we might be getting rusty. Our annual certification swim was approaching in a few months. We had plenty of time to train for another year as rescue swimmers. It wasn’t as if we were going to suddenly stop being able to swim incredibly fast or maneuver in the water with difficult weights. We had always been built for this. Trained. Disciplined.
I couldn’t say I was disciplined the entire summer. Margot had a way of tilting my world sideways enough to make me feel like I’d lost my sea legs. I smirked, cutting through the inlet.
Gabe held on to the canopy overhead.
I’d always stayed away from summer romances. I’d been the one to warn guys from hooking up with tourists who would never stay. I knew it was rooted in my own shit. A heart that had been broken seven years ago by the same Margot who had mended and patched it back together.
I could finally breathe now. I could hold her. Love her. Because she was going to stay on Marshoak Island.
That fear that she would pack up one night and be gone the next morning was gone. She’d done that to me once before, but that was when we were still kids. She’d never do it again. I knew it. I felt it. Everything was different this time.
“What’s our ETA?” Gabe shouted over the roar of the engine.
“Five minutes.” I tapped the GPS coordinates on the screen.
“I’ll get the gear ready.” He disappeared behind me, unhooking the rig with the rescue equipment.
I called into base to let them know we were five minutes out from the boat. They didn’t have any more contact with the boat since the distress call came in. I hoped that wasn’t a bad sign.
Gabe and I had been a team since we were stationed at the Coast Guard base on Marshoak. Through all the rescues this summer. The girls he had cycled through. The fucking mess with Carrie. Gabe had been there. The money from Carrie gnawed at me.
I knew I had done the right thing by using it for good. I had to hope that Margot would see it that way. But if it worked out the way I wanted it to, she’d never know I was behind the LLC that had offered to help restore the Blue Heron Marina. Her uncle’s place needed a lot of work. The money wasn’t enough to make all the repairs, but it was enough to get her to a place where she could make the marina a working marina like it used to be.
She was smart. Creative. Driven. She would turn a profit at the Blue Heron, and what I had to do would be worth it. If she didn’t know it by now, I’d sacrifice almost anything for her.
Margot didn’t have anyone else. The kid I was when we met would have freaked out at that thought. It’s a hell of a heavy commitment. But now, being with her has made me want that kind of commitment. It’s not the burden she thinks it is. Loving her was like breathing.
“Hey! Up there!” Gabe hollered. He had spotted the twenty-foot fishing boat. I began to slow the cutter toward the vessel bobbing on the ocean.
“Is there anyone out there?” I asked. I didn’t see a person on the deck or in the water. I lifted the receiver to let base know we had reached the distress signal.
“Doesn’t look like it. Shit.” Gabe began to suit up. We were going to have to search the perimeter of the boat.
“Who called it in if there’s no one onboard?” I grabbed the binoculars from the console as we drifted closer, in case I could see anyone on the floor. Maybe they had passed out.
“Hell if I know.” He zipped up the top of the suit.
We floated against the fishing boat. It appeared to be abandoned. It didn’t make any sense.
