Adrift Page 2

  She died during the emergency C-section.

  When I learned about what happened to my mother, the guilt I felt nearly crushed me: for killing her, for saddling my father with a life as a single parent. But he never placed any blame and refused to let me wallow.

  He was the best.

  And I tried to be everything so he wouldn’t regret having only me.

  “Just live, squirrel. That’s all I ever wanted for you. To live.”

  I blink the tears from my eyes and bring his ring to my lips, kissing it before placing it safely inside my shirt again. “I miss you, Daddy.”

  I glance one more time out into the ocean before returning to my room to change. Shrugging on one of my dad’s old marathon shirts and some cotton shorts and grateful to finally be comfortable after a long day, I slip into the bed. Our mattresses here leave a lot to be desired, but the rocking of the boat and quiet breathing of my roommate both help lull me off to sleep.

  I DON’T KNOW HOW LONG I’m asleep when a loud noise startles me awake. I fly out of bed, heart pounding, gasping for breath, and look around in complete shock as alarms start to go off all over the boat.

  Jenny hops down from the top bunk and immediately puts her shoes on before throwing my boat shoes at me. “Come on!” she barks before running out of the room.

  Come on, what! Where?

  I slip the shoes on and open our door, nearly running into Brett dashing down the hall, yelling orders. I hear “fire” and “overboard” multiple times as I run to Chef’s room, but when I get there it’s empty.

  She must already be upstairs.

  I quickly check the other cabins, making sure everyone else is gone before I realize I’m the only fucking one still down here. Get your ass in gear, Taylor! It’s when I start for the stairs that I begin to smell the smoke.

  Fear chokes me, but I shove it down and finally make it to the deck. I hear yelling to my left and see the crew helping a bunch of people into a dinghy and start to run over, but Brett steps in front of me, saying, “This is at capacity. You need to go to the second boat near the bow. The captain will meet you there with the rest of the crew.”

  I nod rapidly and turn, running for the front of the boat, but smack into a hard body. I backpedal and grab a hand on instinct, beginning to tow the person with me to safety. “Come on!”

  “Where?” a husky voice asks behind me and I turn briefly, getting a glimpse of dark stubble and a strong jaw, but it’s too dark to see anything else.

  “There’s one boat left, the other is full. We need to meet the captain.”

  “There’s a fire, back there, a fire—” His deep voice rises slightly with panic and I try not to think about it. What it means, what it could mean if we don’t get off this boat fast enough.

  We reach the boat and I turn to him. “Get in the boat.”

  He shakes his head, or at least I think he does; it’s still too dark to tell for sure. The explosion knocked out the power and I don’t want to think about where the moonlight went. What that meant.

  “You first,” he says stubbornly.

  Fine. He wants to be chivalrous, maybe a little misogynistic, that’s fine. This is life or death; I’m not about to argue right now. I climb over and turn to him. “Ok, hero, get in.”

  He hesitates before gingerly climbing in. He immediately goes for a life jacket and I narrow my eyes a little before turning back and watching the deck for others. Where are they?

  “Hello?” I call out, and startle when I hear a loud splash.

  “What was that?” the man behind me asks me.

  “Probably the other boat hitting the water,” I assume, gnawing anxiously on my bottom lip.

  “Should we be doing the same thing?”

  “We need to wait for everyone else.” I shake my head.

  “I didn’t see anyone else, just you,” he says, and my heart skips a little. No, that’s not true.

  “Just give it a min—” I’m cut off by another loud explosion that rocks us hard, and I fall onto the bottom of the boat, smacking my hip roughly against one of the paddles.

  “Fuck! Oh, fuck!” he cries out and reaches for me, giving me a hand up.

  I right myself and cry out as the Naiad gives a large groan and starts to move…down. It’s fucking sinking. We need to detach. I search for the automatic pulley system and press the button for detachment, but it doesn’t move. I scream in frustration.

  “It won’t detach!” I yell over the noise.

  I hear him shuffling around before he’s suddenly at my side. “Get a life vest on and hold on.”

  “What are you going to do?” I yell, scared we’re going to have to jump into the dark water.

  “Just do what I fucking said!” he screams. Suddenly there’s a flash of bright red light and I realize he grabbed two flares from the emergency kit. His face is lit up for the first time from the red light and it makes him look like a demon. A beautiful demon, though, even covered in smoke and sweat, a bruise already swelling his left cheek.

  I stop my ogling and do as he says, watching as he brings the flares to each side of the ropes at the same time so they’ll break in tandem and hopefully we’ll land solidly.

  I sit on the bottom of the boat, grasping onto the benches for dear life when I hear the snap of the lines holding the boat to the yacht—then suddenly we’re airborne.

  There’s a brief weightlessness, my stomach saying a quick hello as I scream, and then the hard smack as we crash into the ocean. I hit my head hard against the side of the boat and cry out in pain, wincing as I sit up. There’s no time to rest; we need to get as far away as possible from this boat before it goes down.

  “Hey! Great job, but we have to row away from here,” I call out, reaching for the paddles.

  When there’s no response, I look up and choke back a scream when I don’t see him in the boat. Scrambling to the side, I try to spot him and realize I can’t see shit without a light. I feel around for the emergency kit, nearly crying in relief when I find the crank flashlight inside.

  I crank it as fast as I can, my sore shoulders protesting the rotating movement, but sob in relief when light suddenly explodes in front of me. I scramble to the front of the boat, screaming, “Hey! Buddy!” I scan the water for him, heart in my throat, when I see him bobbing in the water about five feet from me. “Hey!”

  His chin rests against his chest, clearly unconscious…or dead. No. No! He’s unconscious, Taylor. You didn’t just go through all of that for him to be dead. No fucking way. I grab one of the paddles and stand, bending my knees a little to maintain my balance before swinging the paddle down to splash him. “Wake up!”

  I try to paddle a little closer, but I can’t do it by myself so I try to splash him one more time. “Come on, asshole! Wake. The fuck. Up!” I slam the paddle as hard as I can against the water and let out a shriek when I see his head move.

  I hear him groan and cry out in relief, “Yes, yes! Come on!”

  He blinks his eyes and squints at me. “Could you shine that somewhere else?”

  “Oh, sorry!” I shine the light to the left of him and reach the paddle forward. “Grab this, I’ll tow you in.”

  He does, clearly weak as I do most of the work to drag him in, my muscles groaning loudly. When he’s up against the side of the boat I brace myself, realizing this part is going to be the hardest, and lean forward to grab the back of his pants.

  He latches onto the side and I count us off, “On the count of three: one, two, three…”

  He heaves himself up and I yank as hard as I can, groaning loudly, then fall backward as his weight is suddenly over the side and on top of me. I gasp shallowly, shocked by how cold, wet, and heavy he is. “Move!”

  “Sorry, sorry!” he wheezes and rolls off of me.

  We lie there exhausted, unable to do more, but we’re safe for the moment. Tears burn my eyes as shock starts to set in, but we’re not done. Not yet.

  Sucking in a deep breath and shoving the ove
rwhelming need to scream down, I grab a paddle and hand it to him. “Come on, we need to put some distance between us and the yacht.”

  We paddle for a little bit before I grab the flashlight again and begin panning the water for the others, calling out, “Hello!”

  “They probably did the same thing, but in the other direction,” my fellow survivor says dully, exhaustion and pain echoing loudly in his voice.

  “Probably, but we’re the only ones out here. They have to hear us.” I continue to call out when the first sound of thunder hits.

  I blink rapidly and shake my head in frustration. Haven’t we already been through enough!

  “Come on, I need your help,” I tell him, nearly tripping over his legs as I head back to the end of the eight-foot boat. It’s wooden and feels solid beneath my feet, but if I’m right, not solid enough to withstand the storm we didn’t move out of the way of fast enough.

  “Hey!” I lean over him when there’s no response and shake his massive shoulder. I tap his cheek. “Come on, man. You can’t fall asleep. You could have a concussion. You probably do have a concussion.”

  “East,” he mumbles and blinks his eyes open. I realize, being this close to him for the first time, they’re a startling green. They remind me of home.

  “I don’t know where east is right now.” I panic slightly, worried that he’s already incoherent.

  He smiles weakly and says, “Easton VanHouten.”

  Oh! His name! Smiling at my confusion, I reply, “I’m Taylor McKay. I need you to stay awake, Mr. VanHauten.”

  “East,” he corrects and moves to get up. “Was that thunder?”

  I bite my lip and debate telling him the truth, but curb that thought. There’s no point in lying or playing down our situation. “I have a feeling we didn’t make it far enough out of the way from the storm’s path before—before whatever happened to the boat. I’m almost positive there’s a canvas cover that snaps over the top of the boat. Help me get it on?”

  “Hurricane,” he says softly before grabbing my hand. “A hurricane.”

  I nearly give in to the terror that wants me to curl up into a ball and cry, but I nod solemnly at him. “We are probably on the outskirts of the worst of it. I’m not going to give up yet, East. Help me.”

  “Just live, squirrel. That’s all I ever wanted for you. To live.”

  My dad’s voice rings in my head as I lift open the emergency kit holding the large tarp. Closing my eyes, I send up a quick prayer to him if he’s listening.

  Please, Daddy. Help us.

  ABOUT AN HOUR LATER, FULLY exhausted we flop onto the bottom of our small boat. I think back to the much larger speedboat everyone else is in—one with an engine—and close my eyes. They’ll have a much better chance against this. I hope they outrun it. I hope they find land or call the Coast Guard and tell them we’re still here.

  I hope…

  I suck in a deep breath and instantly regret it. The open and cool ocean breeze we had before is now pitch black, humid, and stifling. We’re both silent except for our breathing and I roll my lips between my teeth to stop myself from reminding him once again not to fall asleep. Mostly it’s a reminder to myself not to do the same.

  We’re both lying on our backs, a bench between us, and from the sounds of his breathing, he’s turned towards me, possibly taking as much comfort in my presence as I am in his.

  God, I’m so glad I’m not alone in this.

  A whimper escapes before I can smother it and it’s like the dam has broken. Hot tears slide down my face and into my hair; my scalp already itches from the saltwater and whatever ever else is matting it. Probably blood from when I smacked my head at our landing.

  East’s hand finds mine in the dark and I squeeze my eyes shut, embarrassed and longing for a moment of privacy for my breakdown. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t apologize,” he whispers shakily, and I can tell he’s close to tears himself. It makes me feel better, knowing someone clearly strong, is equally freaking the fuck out.

  “What are we going to do?” I moan, squeezing his fingers tightly.

  “Talk to me because we can’t fall asleep and I don’t want to die not knowing the person who saved my life.”

  I’m caught between a sob and laughter. “You saved us.”

  “We saved each other,” he concedes.

  “What do you want to know?” I ask, only to tense up as another crash of thunder sounds, this time closer. It’s then that I notice the rocking of the boat picks up. Before we were moving constantly, I thought it was just us, but now…

  “Whatever you want to tell me, Taylor McKay,” he answers, breaking my concentration on the water.

  “My dad died three months ago,” I say suddenly, thankful for the darkness. It’s easier to say it out loud knowing no one can see the pain on my face and I can’t see the pity on theirs.

  “I’m sor—” he begins, but I cut him off.

  “Don’t. Don’t apologize. I realize it’s because you don’t know what else to say, it’s automatic, but it’s just…”

  “I get it,” he says lightly, and I let it go.

  “He was the best. Which I’m sure every little girl thinks about her father. Or at least they should. I did about mine. He taught me everything he knew and he loved his life, even the parts he got wrong. I know everyone says that about the dead, but my God, East, he lived. If he woke up one morning and had a hankering to see the Grand Canyon, he would bundle me up in the car and drive us there. Nothing was too crazy.”

  “He sounds incredible,” East says quietly.

  “He was,” I choke, my throat tightening again with tears, “even when he got sick. Even then. I—ah, had a bit of a midlife crisis when he died,” I confess dramatically.

  East makes a small sound of amusement. “How so?”

  “Oh, you know, the usual. I quit my job at a Fortune 500 company, which everyone thought was incredibly idiotic considering I was very young to hold the position I did.”

  I can practically feel businessman East perk up. “Oh yeah? What did you do?”

  “I was Senior CPA for McCain, Grant and Greene Brokerage. We dealt mainly in—”

  “Hybrid securities. Yes, I’m aware. Very impressive, Ms. McKay.” East does sound impressed so I try not to get my back up. So many people, rich men usually, were so condescending about my position at that company. As if it’s cute that I made a career out of math.

  “I guess. I hated it. Never saw the light of day; never saw my boyfriend, only woman in my department. It wasn’t a huge loss when I quit. Not for me.”

  “So how did you end up on the Naiad?”

  “After partaking in the most depressingly amicable breakup in the history of relationships, I went home and got drunk off cheap Moscato. All class, all the way. I turned on the television for the first time in God knows how long and started watching this show about a bunch of people working on a charter. It’s the antithesis of everything I was doing, which seemed like a good idea at the time. Now…”

  “Unless you can see the future, I doubt you would’ve been prepared for this.”

  “Meh. I know you’re Easton VanHouten of the VanHoutens. Very important, very rich, very established.” I try not to snort in disdain, but judging by his quiet chuckle he can tell what I think of his status. “I know you were on the yacht celebrating a deal you finally closed. Oh, and I know you were planning on hooking up with Sarah.”

  “Shit!” He laughs and it’s a warm, deep laugh. Surprisingly infectious. “Call me East; after what we just went through I think we can suspend formality. What else is there to tell you? You seem to know everything already.”

  “People do talk. It’s a small yacht.” I laugh and he gives my hand a squeeze. I forgot we were holding hands.

  “You already know my name and apparently a little of what it means. I’m the head of a venture capitalist firm and we just acquired rights to what’s probably the next very big deal in Net security. My yo
unger brother Carter is my VP and my best friend and probably one of two people on Earth who will miss me when I’m gone.”

  “Stop,” I whisper, turning on my side to face him.

  “It’s true,” he says matter-of-factly.

  “What about your parents?”

  “Not everyone is loved by their parents, Taylor. Some are seen as a means to an end, a tool against a spouse, leverage for money. I’ve been a weapon one parent has used against the other for so long they forgot to hate each other and started hating me.”

  “No,” I disagree instantly. I couldn’t imagine that; my experience was so different and my father had a reason to truly resent me.

  He sighs roughly and removes his hand from mine; I feel instantly lost without him.

  “You don’t know anything about me. Thank God for my brother. He’s the one who pushed me to go on this trip. I haven’t done anything but eat, sleep, and breathe this deal for the last year. It was supposed to be relaxing. And now—” His breath hitches.

  “We’re going to be ok.” I lie because I need to have something to hold onto and if it can’t be his hand, then let it be the lie that’s steeped in hope. East says nothing and the silence is worse so I prod him to continue. “Do you like your job?”

  “My answer would have been an instant yes, but—” he trails off.

  “But?”

  “Fucking hell, Taylor. Shit’s really in perspective right now. When I’m not freaking out, I’m thinking about all the things I’ve done and the things didn’t have a chance to. And then you tell me you upend your life, it’s just—”

  “You’re not sure anymore.”

  “No. I love the challenge, the courting of new clients. I love dealing with money and making it for myself. I like being rich. Trust me, I know how that sounds. Mostly I love working with my brother and with passionate people, but maybe it’s been too much the focus of my life.”

  “I’d say so, if your brother shoved you on a month-long cruise to chill out and celebrate your success.”