Page 160 of Forget Me Not

“Trout, what the fuck are—”

He’s cut off when the pots slip with the next wave, the top few crashing into the ocean, the bottom ones shoving Trout over the edge.

For a single moment, everything freezes.

Then everyone springs into action.

“Man overboard!” Copper hollers into the microphone. I jump from my chair, tossing my hat on the desk and storming for the door.

I don’t think. I just go.

“Stay here,” I grit, storming out of the wheelhouse and down to the deck. It’s freezing out, the temperatures so cold the ice on the railings is starting to turn a translucent white as it thickens.

The men are scurrying around, trying to get Trout to catch onto the buoy they’re throwing at him, but he’s too far away and struggling to grab ahold.

What would my dad do?

Jump.

Fuck it.

Tugging my sweatshirt over my head and then kicking off my boots so they don’t weigh me down, I push my way to the rail, take the buoy out of someone’s hand and dive before any of them can stop me.

The water is like a thousand needles prickling my skin the moment I touch the surface.

It’s one thing to get sprayed from the deck. It’s something else entirely to completely immerse yourself in it.

I can barely make out the shouting from behind me over the roaring of the waves as I swim for Trout. I grab his hand, tugging him closer, and motion for them to pull us back. Trout’s already shivering as the water steals the heat from his body and I’m not far off as they haul us back to the boat.

As soon as we’re there, they toss the rope ladder over and I force Trout up first. Once he’s out, I follow suit, the air actually feeling warm to my skin when I’m out of the water.

“You fuckin’ idiots! Get them inside!” Copper screeches like a banshee from the wheelhouse.

I’m shoved inside and into the mess hall, and I strip my frozen clothes off as the rest of the guys do the same to Trout.

“You with me, buddy?” Frisker, a deckhand asks, forcing Trout to look at him. Trout nods slowly, wrapping himself in the blanket they place around his shoulders.

I know that look. He’s spooked. His family. They could have lost him today.

“You got to get home for those babies you got,” Frisker says and it’s then that the reality of the situation dawns on me. Both of us could have died today. It’s only a fucking miracle and good deckhands that we made it out alive.

“Pretty fucking stupid of you, Cap.” Trout’s eyes narrow on me, as though he’s pissed at me for coming in after him.

I shrug.

Pretty fucking stupid, indeed.

I scrub a hand over my face, shrugging off the blanket they try to wrap around me. I’ve got to get out of here.

This isn’t the place for me.

“You alright?” Frisker asks, staring at me intently.

We’ll be making port in less than three hours.

“I need to go home.”

Frisker doesn’t move for a beat, watching me as if I’ve suddenly grown three heads.

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