She stays away otherwise, careful to give me space, but I start to look forward to our time together. I ask her about school in Oregon, and she tells me about joining the women's rowing team there. And I see it now, in the strength of her shoulders, her back. She asks me about my dad, and I tell her that he's stronger now but not as strong as he used to be.
She fills the silence with quiet words; she doesn't boast, but she's never self-deprecating, either. Cynically, I try to read her to see whether she's watching for the camera or turning her body to face this way or that, but she never seems to.
I don't want to like her, but it's getting harder and harder to remember why.
Six days after Emmy first came aboard, we're finally back at port. Finn, Colton, and a bunch of the crew are off for a night out, which means beer, peanuts, and rude jokes at Dockside.
I'm just coming out of the shower, my leg wrapped in plastic below my hip, when I hear someone walking aboveboard. It's after eight; everyone who would normally be here should have left an hour ago. When I check my phone, I don't see any missed calls.
We have crew members guarding the boats in a sort of half-assed way all the time. Mainly because there's always someone tinkering with the equipment on the Lenny Lou or sleeping on the boat when we're docked. But even though there isn't anything all that valuable to take off the Linda, it doesn't always stop the local kids from climbing aboard and taking pictures they can share with their friends or post online.
Pulling on a pair of sweats, I limp up the steps, calling out, "Who's up there?"
When no one answers, my pulse picks up, and I grab the bat we always keep tucked just inside the door to the control galley.
"It's not a good idea to climb up here, guys," I say, moving along the railing toward the stern, where the rear deck spreads out wide and flat. "Tons of stuff to get tangled in if you don't know what you're doing."
"Levi?"
I whip around at the sound of my name and then drop the bat, horrified.
"I'm sorry!" She approaches, her face partially obscured in the darkness. "I didn't mean to startle you. I left my bag here and need it for my shift."
"Holy hell, Emmy, you nearly got clocked in the head. You should have called."
She shakes her head. "I don't have your number. Only Matt's. I thought you'd be out with everyone else."
Glancing around, I see no cameras, no crew, no fuzzy mics hovering just out of view. "I know they want us all there, but a night at home sounded better to me."
"Makes sense." She smiles, and this I can see in the darkness.
I expect her to leave, to find her way to the dock, and head into town with everyone else, but she lingers instead, sliding her hand over the railing at her side.
"Can I ask you something?"
I nod, realizing we're truly alone for the first time. "Sure."
"What happened the other day?" she asks, looking up at me after she says this. "You said you ... liked me, and then ..."
I pause for a moment, not sure what to say. "I got wary, that's all," I admit finally. "All kinds of people are coming out of the woodwork since the show started. I don't mind it, usually, but when you showed up ..." I shake my head. "I didn't know what to think."
She takes a step closer. "I can understand that." I feel her hand come over my forearm and slide higher, and it's only now that I realize I never put on a shirt.
"I get it, how it would be hard to trust people." Her gaze is fixed on my face as she says, "It's not about the show for me. They asked around the hospital and when I heard it was you ... well. I guess I didn't like the idea of it being some sexy model-turned-nurse from Vancouver." She gives me a tiny, guilty smile. "I needed a break from the ER. And ... I like you. I always liked your family."
I nod. There's a thunder rolling in my chest. It causes a riot inside me; my blood feels too hot. "Well," I say, struggling for breath, for words, "I ..."
"But I do get it," she says, a little quieter now. "Why you'd be wary. If you liked me before, you probably think they're using me to get a reaction out of you."
I laugh. "I'm sure they're using you to get a reaction out of me."
"Well, I wanted you to know that I wasn't part of it," she says. "There was no subplot pitched to me. They asked for a nurse, and I agreed. I get it now, but I'm not here to play you."
I nod, unsure what else to say. Having her so near me is almost painful. Of any of us Roberts boys, I have the least experience with women, but really
, I'm not all that surprised when she takes another step closer, and then another, so she's up against me.
Her hands come to my chest--cold from the night air, maybe cold from nerves, too--and then she stretches, pressing her mouth against the pulse in my throat and whispering, "I wish you'd have said something when we were seventeen."