Page 18 of Make Me Yours

I can usually go and go, but today my get-up-and-go already got up and went.

So, I sit perched on the rock wall surrounding the lookout, staring out at the blue ocean under a cloudless autumn sky, while I wait for her to make it up the last fifty steps. Days like this are numbered. Soon, the skies will be gunmetal gray and the ocean faded to match.

Winters are always rough around here, but for some reason I’m dreading this one more than usual.

“Asthma,” Elaina wheezes as she mounts the final step. She braces her hands on her knees, bending double as she sucks wind. “I have asthma. You can get that in your twenties, right?”

“Or maybe you just need to do some cardiovascular exercise on a regular basis,” I say for possibly the hundredth time.

Elaina and I both played rugby in high school, but since graduation, Elaina has focused mostly on petting cats and baking cakes. Meanwhile, I spend my days hauling lobster trapsonto our boat and my evenings jogging or lifting weights at the rec center. Being strong isn’t just important for longevity in my job, it’s a bit of an obsession.

I’ve watched my father go downhill physically with disturbing speed, the strong dad from my childhood transforming into a stooped man with a paunch who winces as he hobbles down the street. His body is a prison, trapping him in a life he hates but can’t escape.

I don’t ever want to live like that. I’d throw myself off the boat first.

“No. Asthma,” Elaina continues to pant. “I clearly have asthma. And when I get a diagnosis, you’re going to feel so bad for bullying me and making me hike instead of meeting me in my nice warm café.”

“You look warm enough to me,” I tease, laughing when she sticks her tongue out at me from the middle of her flushed face.

“The cats are mad, too,” she says, hands on her hips as she sways toward me, gradually pulling in deeper breaths. “They were looking forward to a visit from Aunt Gert-Gert.”

“I couldn’t risk another run-in with the Tripps,” I say. “Not until I figure out what I’m going to do.”

She blinks, her expression sobering as she sits beside me on the rock wall, swinging her legs over to dangle beside mine. “I’m so sorry, Gertie. I shouldn’t have told Mark you were leaving out the back. I thought he was looking for you to apologize for whatever happened between you two. I had no idea he’d do…whatever he did.” She leans in, her brow furrowed. “What did he do, by the way? When he came in for coffee, all he said was ‘your friend is crazy and kicked me in the nuts.’ And that he wanted three scones to go.”

I huff beneath my breath, annoyed, but not surprised. “He’s such an asshole. I can’t believe I made out with him for months. He’s so gross.”

“He’s not gross,” Elaina says. “Not physically anyway. He’s cute. But if he did something bad enough to get kicked in the nuts, I’ll never sell him a scone again.” She bites her lip. “I did give him three today because I baked way too many and needed to unload some, but never again. Just say the word and he’s banned for life.”

It’s tempting, but after a beat, I shake my head. “No, it’s fine. He wasn’t himself this morning. His dad just died. I’ll give him a pass this time.”

“A pass for what?” she presses again.

I briefly explain, leaving out the part about Weaver swooping in to glare daggers in Mark’s face.

When I’m finished, Elaina’s dark eyes are narrowed in anger. “Fuck that guy,” she spits, like one of the cats after they get hit with the spray bottle for fighting. “No more scones for him. No coffee, either. Not even a mug of herbal tea without an ounce of caffeine in it. No one lays hands on my bestie and gets away with it.”

“He didn’t get away with it,” I remind her. “I kicked him in the balls and he said he wouldn’t mess with me again. It’s fine.”

He didn’t exactly say that, but I feel confident that Mark got the message, and I don’t want to start a town feud between his people and mine. Ormoreof a feud, anyway. My people are of higher quality, but Mark has numbers on his side. The other Tripps and Tripp minions might like me better, but he’s the one with power and influence in Sea Breeze.

And that power might be growing very soon…

He isn’t the oldest or most experienced fisherman in the Tripp crew, but he’s Rodger’s son. I can’t imagine his dad passing the torch to anyone else. Weaver may have gotten the yacht, but Mark will get control of the fleet and everything else.

“But that’s not what I need to talk to you about,” I add, still not sure if Elaina is the best person to trust with this information, but I don’t have anyone else.

Maya is a sweetheart, but she hates drama and has even less experience with men than I do. And she’s out of town with her mom, doing some remodeling shopping for their vacation rentals, and won’t be back for a week. Sydney would be a great source for advice—she has experience with older men—but she’s in the middle of moving to Burlington, Vermont, and shifting the entire course of her life.

She’s…a little busy.

Besides, Elaina can keep a secret, as long as she understands from the jump that I’m serious about this staying just between us. “I need you to pinkie swear you won’t say a thing about this to anyone else, okay? Not a word. Not even to Sydney or Maya. I want to keep this quiet.”

“Okay.” Elaina nods seriously, searching my face. “You can trust me, Gertie. I hope you know that. I love gossip, but I love you more. Your secrets are always safe with me.”

“I know.” I squeeze her leg through her overalls, so grateful for her. I never would have made it through my mom leaving or my dad falling apart without Elaina.

She’s always been there for me. Even when we were kids.

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