Page 63 of Forget Me Not

“What kind of whales are they?”

“Humpback,” he says quietly, his hand on my stomach burning through the thin material of my shirt. Just as he says it, the mother whale brings her head out of the water, dipping back in with a splash.

I laugh. It’s so childish, but it’s also magical. In all my time on the island, I’ve never paid enough attention to the ocean to see any whales nearby. “Why do they do that?”

“To communicate with each other.”

“You made that up.”

“I didn’t. The sound of the splash travels further underwater and other whales can hear it. She’s probably calling out to a mate.”

The whales fall back into sync, swimming slowly off into the distance. “I wonder where they’re going.”

“Anywhere,” Reid shrugs, releasing me when another shiver slides up my spine. He unbuttons his flannel and slips it off, holding it out to me without a word. I take it apprehensively, mostly because it will smell like him. Like the sea and warmth and everything else that makes my mouth water when he walks in a room.

Why couldn’t he smell like shit? Maybe then, it would be easier to ignore the butterflies in my stomach.

“You could wear this as a dress,” he murmurs, fingering the bottom hem where it meets my bare leg. He’s not wrong. It’s huge, but so is he.

I swallow hard past the lump in my throat when those dark eyes meet mine. If he weren’t watching, I’d check my pulse and make sure I’m still alive because I’m certain, I’ve just flatlined.

“So, which one’s yours?”

My voice shakes like a girl with her first crush.

God, Nova. Get it together.

“Come on.”

I place my fingers in his, letting him lead me to the second dock and almost to the end where a white boat with the name Hope’s Grace scribbled on the back.

“Here she is. Busted engine and all,” he says, stepping down from the dock and onto the boat. He looks back at me, still holding my fingers in his. “It’s safe, Nova. You can get on.”

“That’s okay.” Fear bubbles in my stomach, just watching the thing rock around. Reid’s fingers tighten around mine, and I’m almost embarrassed about how clammy my palms have gotten in the last thirty seconds.

“Nova,” he says, voice dark. Eyes like midnight. “Do you trust me?”

Do I? It’s something that can’t be answered with a simple yes or no. I do trust him. I don’t trust myself not to have a panic attack as soon as I step foot on the boat.

Visions flash in my head. Mud. Dark, icy water. A yellow car breaking the surface and then slowly, sinking down.

Nothingness.

What if it starts sinking? Then what? I know it’s all open and I can swim up to the surface, but . . . a shiver runs up my spine and I pull his shirt tighter around myself.

“Nova, you have my word.”

He’s watching me with that stare that reminds me of warm, fresh chocolate. Demanding. Dominating.

I trust him.

God, what am I doing?

When I tighten my grip on his fingers, he steps forward to help me place my foot on the hardened rubber floor of the boat. It’s a big step, as the boat is a couple inches from the dock and I’m thankful he’s there to help steady me. I can only imagine what would happen if I fell in, especially when the water is as black as a void, full of ocean life and ready to suck me into the darkness . . . again.

I place both feet onto the deck, still adjusting to standing on it. It moves with the sea and it’s been years since I’ve been on a boat. Four, to be exact.

“Not too bad, right?”

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