Page 51 of Taming Liberty

“Hey Sawyer,” I call out, eliciting him to throw me a look over his shoulder. “Liberty and I need to head back.”

“What?” His face sinks. “Hell no.”

When the boat zigzags, Lib curls into me. “I’mfine,” she reiterates.

The boat jerks right, sending Patrick yelling and toppling over into the water. Sawyer slows enough for Patrick to shift upright, but he’s far from stable.

Sawyer laughs and presses on the gas.

“Fuck, seriously, slow down!” Anna yells. “Liberty’s about to puke.”

“What?” Sawyer asks.

“Liberty’s sick!”

Lib opens her mouth to take in a deep inhale. “I’m fine, people, really.” Her cheeks puff out, and again, I can’t figure out why she’s lying this hard.

Sawyer slows the boat down to a stop, then he turns around to face her. “Hey, you okay?”

“Yes,” she says although she’s swaying.

He doesn’t bother humoring the response.

“I’m gonna take you guys back. Hold on.” His eyes move to the water. “P, get in! We’re taking A and Liberty back!”

“No,” Lib protests. She pulls away from me to sit up straighter. “Please, I’m good. It’s just a little…” Her face pales, and her hands rush to cover her mouth. She spins and hangs her head over the boat just as a rush of nausea overtakes her, and she vomits into the water. I hold her hair and smooth my hand over her back.

Aurora lets out a disgusted, “ew,” and Anna stands, arching to look over Lib.

Once the nausea has abated, Lib pulls back and twists to sit down, shyly wiping her mouth against the back of her hand.

“Are you okay?” Anna asks.

Lib brushes her hair out of her pale face and looks up at Anna. “Yeah…” She moves her eyes to Sawyer and sighs. “Could you take us back, please?”

Sawyer nods and starts the journey back to the manor’s dock. Lib’s eyes focus on the horizon the fifteen minutes it takes to get there, neither of us saying a word. The subtle way she leans forward when I rest my hand on her back cuts through the sympathy I feel for her and leaves behind annoyance. She seems disappointed, and I can’t convince myself it has anything to do with a ruined boat ride.

She wanted something. I don’t know what, but she didn’t get it.

After we’re dropped off, I put my arm around Lib and am half surprised when she doesn’t shrug me off. I begin to lead her back to my house, but before we hit the path up, she grasps my arm to stop me.

“Wait,” she says, pulling my gaze to her. “I don’t want to go back yet… Can we walk the beach?”

She still looks sick to me. Not as much as she did on the boat, but her color isn’t back. I think about questioning her, but I don’t know what to ask without it sounding like an accusation of sorts.

“Sure,” I concede, forcing myself not to scowl with skepticism.

As we head down the beach, I shift my arm off her and hold her hand. We’re silent for several minutes, long enough for guilt to start slipping in at how skeptical I’ve been toward her today. I’m usually better at hiding it, but I can tell I’m not doing a great job right now.

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” she says, sounding embarrassed herself.

I know the right thing would be to offer sympathy and reassurance, but after a moment passes, I can’t help myself. I laugh.

Her forehead wrinkles as she looks at me, and when she goes to pull her hand away, I squeeze to hang on.

“I’m sorry,” I quickly say. “I mean, a lot has happened. You could not possibly embarrass me, but if you could, getting seasick would not be the thing that did it.”

The color that’s been missing from her face returns in excess, and she looks away. “Right.”

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