Chapter 10

10

W e don't stay in Nassau longer than it takes to refuel and restock food and drinks. Nassau has too many ships. Too many tourists. Too many eyes. Tinsley is hellbent that she'll be spotted, and I believe her because it wouldn't be tough. It's one of the largest ports in the Bahamas.

Instead, we head east toward Eleuthera and Lighthouse Beach. Nothing is as clear and beautifully wondrous as the water and beaches of the Bahamas. It only took us four hours to sail here, especially now that the water is calm and the sun burned off all the remaining clouds.

I drop anchor about a hundred yards out, unable to get closer because of the sand belt and reefs that surround the island, not to mention, we don't want to be too visible if anyone else comes. Right now, the beach is empty, the storm more than likely having kept people away, and the fact that there's not a lot on this part of the island because of the sharp craters of rock that line the beach.

We eat lunch on the ship, enjoying the stillness and quiet, though Tinsley doesn't know how to stay still or quiet for long. She's always humming or singing something, whether she's aware of it or not. You'd think something like that would be annoying, but with her, it isn't. The way she sings is sweet and warm like honey sliding down your throat, and when she puts some emotion into it, her voice gives me chills.

"Do you want to swim to the island?" I ask after we're done, and everything is cleaned up.

She peers out at the pretty, deserted beach. "We're by the reef, right? Are there sharks?"

I smirk and take her hand, leading her down to the transom. No jumping off the side of the boat today. "There are sharks and a lot of fish, but none of them will bother you. I have flippers and snorkels we can put on to help us swim, and a bag that will keep our stuff dry. What do you say?"

"I say let's do it, but if I get eaten by a shark, you'll have to be the one to explain it to my parents."

"Deal. Or you could call them."

She rolls her eyes at me. "And tell them I'm here with you?"

I shrug. "What are you afraid will happen?"

She sighs. "My parents aren't the problem. Not really. They love me and worry, and after the way my stalker terrorized me for years, I don't blame them for that."

Darkness creeps over me. I remember her stalker. I remember Forest talking about him. Some dude named Terrance or something. He told me about the threatening letters the guy would send her. I think she was only seventeen when they started, and I remember she moved in with Forest when he started at UCLA so she wouldn't be living alone. He liked that. He liked that she leaned on him, and he felt like her hero and protector. Then they caught the guy and there was a brief trial, but I believe in the end, he made a plea deal and is in prison.

"It's everyone else. It's my agent, my manager, and even my label. My career and my life have become theirs and not mine. Especially with my manager, Apollo. He's forceful with the things he wants me to do and has trouble hearing the word no. Not to mention he gives me the creeps. I feel like he's always there watching me and not giving me any room to breathe."

I stare at the side of her face, and I see it. The exhaustion. The hopelessness. The fear. I've seen that in my own reflection a lot lately.

"Part of why I came out here was to try to figure everything out. To give myself space and time and build up the strength and courage to do what I need to do."

"Which is?"

She gnaws on her lip, her eyes still on the sandy beach in the distance. "Fire everyone. Not my parents. I love my parents. But I likely need to set some boundaries there too. Remind them I'm an adult and a woman now since I haven't shown it. I've been weak and timid, but it's not who or what I want to be anymore. I want to take control, and I want to be in charge, and I want them to answer to me and not the other way around."

"So do it. I think what you did is pretty brave. You came down here, found your way to my boat, snuck on it, and hid it from everyone. You took the steps you needed to take, and now you can take the rest."

She turns to me, glancing up into my eyes. Hers are so vivid and beautiful against the sun and the water they're almost too much. "You think so?" she asks, her expression serious.

I lean in and kiss her. It's not a kiss for sex. It's not a kiss based on lust. It's a kiss because I have to kiss her right now.

I cup her face in my hand and press our foreheads together. "Yes, I think so. I think Tinsley Monroe can do anything she sets her pretty little heart and head on. It's your life, Little Rose. Be the thorns when you need to be and the petals when you don't."

Her lips touch mine, her hands on the back of my neck, and for a few minutes, we kiss and kiss and kiss. Then I gear us both up as we laugh at how goofy we each look in our snorkel masks and flippers. Tinsley snaps a picture, only to shake her head and immediately delete it. I don't have to ask why she deleted it. Pictures are dangerous in our world. In our situation.

We dive into the cool, clear water and swim all the way to shore, removing our gear and dropping it off to the side while I pull things out of my backpack and set up a few towels for us to lie on.

For a while, we're both quiet. Lost to our thoughts. Me thinking about the boy, about medicine, about who I've been and who I want to be, and how I can make that happen when she interrupts my thoughts.

"You know, I've traveled all around the world. I've been to hundreds of countries on five different continents, and I can't remember the last time I saw anything as beautiful as this."

My head rolls and I squint at her through the lenses of my sunglasses. Tinsley is wearing nothing but a black bikini and sunglasses, her long hair up in a high ponytail splayed across her towel. She looks unbelievably hot like this and yet quietly adorable as she scrunches her nose.

"How is that possible?"

She shrugs. "Because I go from city to city, country to country. I don't have time to sightsee or explore. I can't remember the last time I had this much downtime. It's all write, record, tour, and repeat. And throw in a movie or two in there as well."

"You're taking the time now," I point out.

"Because I was literally losing it. I've been writing songs while I'm here, and it's the first time that it's felt natural and not forced in so long."

"Do you not enjoy it anymore?"

She releases an exhausted and sad sigh. Her head rests on my shoulder, and I wrap a hand around her waist, pulling her in close. "I love it," she voices after a quiet moment of listening to the waves and seagulls. "I love the music, I should say. I love performing on stage. I love my fans. I'm starting to love making movies because it's challenging and different for me. I don't love the stuff that comes with it. The way I'm handled and how my life is run for me. I don't love feeling like I'm missing out on things because I always have to be somewhere else. I don't love being followed by the press, photographed, and lied about as they trash me simply because it's easy to do and makes for good clickbait."

My thumb drags up and down her hip, lightly playing with the string of her bottoms. "But now you're going to change the things you can. The rest, I guess, you have to live with if you love what you do."

"True. What about you?" she asks. "Did you become a doctor because that's what most of the people in your family do? You also haven't told me what brought you out here. I haven't pushed it, but you know all my dark and ugly, and I'd like to know yours."

"I nearly killed a kid," I admit, staring out at the shoreline because I can't look at her as I say this. "I was reckless and lazy and made stupid assumptions I had no business making because I thought I was above it all. I was arrogant—so fucking arrogant—and it nearly cost the kid his life. It would have if his mother and the nurse on his case hadn't pushed me the way they did. After that, I lost confidence. I was second-guessing everything, afraid to get my hands dirty in a trauma, and when you work in the emergency department, that's a dangerous thing. We run at a sprint and use our medical knowledge and intuition to guide us. But I was an asshole. I had always been an asshole. I thought I was better than and above everything, and when I learned I wasn't, it shook me to my core."

I can feel her eyes boring into the side of my face.

"The hospital stepped in and told me to take a couple of weeks off to get my shit together or I shouldn't bother coming back." I swallow and turn to look at her. "But here's the thing. Despite the fact that I'm a world-class asshole, I want to be a doctor. Not simply because it's the Fritz way, but because I remember being a kid and watching my father, uncles, aunts, and grandfather save lives. I remember thinking they were superheroes. I remember thinking being a doctor was the coolest thing ever. And truth be told, it is. I love being a doctor. I love the high and adrenaline rush that comes from being in a trauma and saving a life. I love telling the parents of a child that their kid is going to be okay and watching the fear and nerves turn to pure elation. It was the only thing about myself I considered to be selfless and good."

She thinks about this for a moment, and thankfully there isn't a drop of pity in her eyes as she slides her sunglasses up her head. "So how do you get your shit together and your confidence back?"

I give her a fuck if I know shrug. "I spent a few days studying. Going over disease processes and symptoms and everything else I could. I didn't study much in med school because I didn't think I'd have to. My arrogance knew no bounds. But all that studying I finally did wasn't enough. I was hoping I'd come out here and take this time to be alone with my thoughts and rearrange my outlook on myself and life, and something would click for me. Being alone on the seas, you have to rely on the same things we rely on in the emergency room."

She twists until she's on top of me, her arms wrap around my neck, and her eyes pierce into mine. "You let me stay on the boat even when you didn't want me to. You got us through the storm. We survived it because of you. You were calm and collected and knew exactly what you were doing. But more than that, you went out of your way to reassure me that you wouldn't let anything bad happen to us, and I'm not even talking about the fooling around. Selfish assholes wouldn't have done all that you've done for me. I was scared, but never at any point did I not have total faith and trust in you. You made a mistake, and it knocked you down a necessary peg. You're trying to do better and be better. Not everyone would take that path. Some would give up or not care enough to change. I think you're amazing for doing that. From where I'm looking, you already have your shit together, and I can see the man you want to be there inside you. You just have to see it and believe it for yourself."

My heart thrashes painfully in my chest, her words pinching a nerve I've been reluctant to feel. Her faith in me does something to me I can't explain. It makes me want to be that man she sees because the idea of proving her wrong or disappointing her isn't an option I'm willing to allow. I want to be a good guy for her. A hero. A savior. Someone she can rely on when she needs it.

What we're doing is stupid and reckless and probably cruel and selfish. But I'm here with her, and it feels good. It feels right. Like the best thing I've felt in so long, I can't remember anything ever feeling better. I already know I won't regret a second of being with her. My only regret will be that it's not long enough.

I have no response other than to lift my head and kiss her. Because kissing her feels like salvation. Like she's somehow able to restore the broken and not-so-pretty parts of me. So I keep kissing her, and the more I kiss her, the deeper I get, the more in trouble I am, and I know when this is done, she won't only be my salvation but likely my first real heartache.

She's my brother's ex, and there's a chance I might be falling in love with her.