Chapter 6

6

" N ot a big deal!" I cry, losing my mind as the boat rocks wildly from side to side. "It's a good thing I don't get motion sick!"

"That's what makes you the perfect sailor."

He's so deadpan I want to strangle him. Again. It's a running theme with us.

Rain falls in buckets from the sky, the wind is howling like a freight train, and just to add a bit of fun to our nightmare, it's thundering and lightning. Lightning. As in shots of electricity that strike the ocean. The actual ocean we're in. We're on a freaking ship with a tall-ass mast, and there's nothing else around. We're a goddamn floating target.

The rain started about two hours ago and it wasn't bad at first. Now it's bad.

"Try to get some sleep," Stone suggests. He's been doing—I don't even know what—from what I've not-so-affectionally termed the cockpit that's off the family room, though I don't think that's what they call it on a ship. He's in front of three screens with a control panel that has a million buttons he's been pushing. He's also been in touch with the US Coast Guard as well as local Bahamian authorities.

"I can't sleep, Stone." I'm pacing so I don't topple over, mimicking the motion of the ship. "I'm sorry. I know you don't need my drama or hysteria right now, but I'm seriously panicking and woman enough to admit it."

A crack of thunder rumbles so loudly it not only shakes the boat, the fucking dishes in the cabinets rattle and makes my goddamn teeth chatter. I am not okay. There is no amount of wine and gummies that would be sufficient to see me through this. I go into the galley and pour myself a double shot of tequila. At least Stone was smart enough to have his boat fully stocked with the essentials.

"Do you have a bucket list?"

"Huh? A bucket list?" he parrots only half listening to me.

It doesn't deter me. "Yes. A bucket list. A list of things you want to do before you die. I've never made one, but even though I've led this extraordinary life, I don't feel like I've done much with it or taken advantage of the opportunities I've had. Like, I've never been kissed under the Eiffel Tower in Paris. I've never jumped out of an airplane or gotten a tattoo. Or a piercing, for that matter. I've never gotten lost in Tuscany the way my parents did or walked the Great Wall of China. I've been to all fifty states, but I don't think I've been to a single national park. I've never had a one-night stand or a hot fling."

I swallow down the double shot just as a bolt of lightning flashes out the starboard window. I watch in horror as it electrocutes the ocean about a hundred yards from us.

Holy shit, I'm going to die tonight.

I pour a second shot and then bring one to Stone.

He takes the glass from my shaking hand and tosses the alcohol down his throat. "Thanks."

That's it. How is he so calm?

I start to pace again, fighting against the fierce dip and sway of the boat, feeling so helpless, my fingers knot and unknot in useless spindles. "So yeah, I haven't done any of those things. I've never explored. I've had no real adventures. I've been a good girl who did all the good girl things she was told to do. And what did that get me? A stalker. A boyfriend I clung to a little too tightly because I was afraid of life and said stalker. I've never lived or done anything for myself. And right now, that feels immensely tragic. Like a world filled with regrets."

I pause as lyrics about worlds of regrets and lives yet to live fill my head. My guitar is down in my bedroom, but that's too far away at the moment.

"I know I told you not to call me a good girl because it low-level turned me on since that's what the hero calls the heroine in the dirty books I like to read, but I don't think it does anymore. Being a good girl has been the regret of my life." I suck in a breath and let it out along with the words. "It's caged me into the status quo. It's trapped me into saying yes when I should have said no. It's made me complacent when I should have been impatient. Unfulfilled and outlived, I might have killed the girl I saw the potential to become."

"Those sound like song lyrics."

I nod. They are. It's forming in my head.

"They might be. But how sad are they? I want to be a bad girl, Stone. Only what if it's too late and I missed my chance?"

Jesus, I'm losing it. I'm totally rambling, and I don't even know if I'm making sense.

I hiccup a shaky breath and a quiet gasp as the boat gives a particularly hard lurch when a huge wave crashes into the side of us.

"Hey. It's okay." He stands, taking me by the shoulders and holding on when I'm anything but steady. I whimper, and a tear tracks down my cheek. "No, Tinsley. None of that. Where's the tenacious pain in my ass who broke onto my boat and then kicked me over it? The Rose who jumped into the black water without a life raft?"

"I did that, didn't I?"

"Yeah, you did. It was pretty great. Definitely sexy."

He wipes my tear with his thumb, pulls me in, and holds me tight, tucking the side of my head against his chest. I can hear the steady rhythm of his heart and feel the strong wall of muscle that cocoons me. It settles me, but only just.

"We can do some of those things, you know. We can bucket list the fuck out of this trip. Bad girls are tough and brave. You've been caged a little too long, but it's in you."

I sniffle. "I'm trying to be her, but it's not going well. Please tell me the truth about how bad this is for us."

He pulls back and cups my face in his large, warm hands and stares straight into my eyes. "We're fine. I promise I'm not just saying that. I know it looks and feels bad out there, but we're perfectly safe in here. The top of the mast is capped in rubber and the ship is fiberglass, not metal. It's also built to handle anything the ocean can throw at her."

Another tear tracks down my cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm trying to be tough because I know you're already dealing with a lot, but I'm failing miserably. I'm a city mouse. I've always been a city mouse. The most time I spent at sea was when I went sailing with you, and even then, we just went to the Keys and were never far from land. The idea of capsizing or the boat falling apart and us drowning in the ocean is about the most terrifying thing I can think of, and right now, it feels like that's not that far from reality."

"We're not going to capsize, and this ship won't fall apart. You're not going to drown." His thumbs drag across my cheekbones. "I won't let anything bad happen to you. Ever. Okay?" His green eyes search mine. "I swear."

Comfort seeps into my bones like a warm blanket in front of a blazing fire on a snowy night. I've held on to comfort like this before. A little too hard. I had a stalker, Terrance Howard, who, at first, wrote words of love and poetry, but they quickly morphed into anger and violence. I clung to Forest, and I clung hard. For much longer than I should have. It's a mistake I vowed never to repeat and yet here I am with his brother, begging him to tell me everything is going to be okay. It's not how I want to be anymore.

My spine straightens. "I'm okay."

He smiles, searching my eyes. "See, there's my brave girl. I knew you were in there."

"You're the only one who's ever seen her, let alone believed in her existence."

"Then they never saw you, did they?" He kisses my forehead, and my heart changes its trajectory, my feet losing purchase as the ground beneath me shifts, and much like the ship, I start to tilt, unable to get my bearings. "Let's go try to get some sleep, and by the time we wake up, the storm will be over."

He wipes more of my tears away and takes my hand, walking us down a flight to where the bedrooms are. He's being sweet, sort of how he was that first night when he carried me dripping wet and freezing cold to the bedroom for a shower, only infinitely more tender. It's almost making this worse. Gruff Stone I can handle. Sweet Stone is poking holes in my skin and allowing my ooey, gooey center that's a lot softer than my tough shell to seep out.

Still, I allow him to lead me, and I force myself to trust what he's telling me. He's not freaked out. He's calm, composed, and in control. I like that. It's comforting, and I cling to that like a baby koala clinging to a tree.

It's also late. It's like one in the morning. "There's no way I'll be able to fall asleep tonight."

He sighs. It's a resigned sigh. Almost like he was afraid I was going to say that but knew it was coming anyway .

"No, I suppose you won't be able to. And truth be told, I don't want to be thinking about you alone in your bed with those tears." He hisses out a curse. "You'll sleep in my bed tonight." Without another word, he leads me into his room, and I don't object. I'm wearing the same tank top and shorts I've been wearing all day, and I can easily sleep in them, but he hands me one of his T-shirts that he pulls out of a drawer. The ship is swaying so aggressively that I have to stand with my feet shoulder-width apart and brace my hands on the wall.

Thank God I'm not seasick, but there is no way in hell sleep is happening tonight.

"You can use the bathroom first," he offers, and I don't argue with him. I go into the bathroom, do my thing, wash my hands, steal his toothbrush to brush my teeth, and get out of there. I can't look at my reflection. I'll lose it if I do. It's bad outside. I can hear it and I can feel it. I get that this is a crazy fancy ship and not a small dingy, but weather like this could take down a cruise ship. Weather like this blows houses over.

I come out, and the room is dark. Stone is shirtless, only wearing his low-slung track shorts. Wordlessly, he goes into the bathroom and shuts the door, and I climb into his bed. It smells like him and that's the most comforting thing I have right now. It surrounds me, and I take it. The storm sounds like an airplane is barreling down at top speed right outside the window.

Another crash of thunder. This one makes me gasp.

Maybe Stone was right. I should have told my parents where I am.

A moment later, he exits the bathroom, staggering over to the bed as he fights the momentum of the boat.

"Are you sure it's safe for you to go to sleep? Should we take watches or something?" Not that I have any clue what I'd be looking at on those screens.

He climbs in beside me, slides his hand beneath my body, and drags me over, holding me against his chest. He smells good. Like his sheets but in a more potent form. Like the sun and the ocean and something spicy that's all him. He's soft skin over a wall of muscle, and even though I'm scared out of my mind, I can't help but be aware of him and how it feels to be in his arms. Despite the raging storm, he makes me feel safe and protected, which isn't something I get a ton of in my day-to-day life. I have my parents, and I have my family and lifelong friends that I'm very close with, but they're mostly on the East Coast and I'm in LA.

There is nothing safe about LA or the music and film business.

Nothing safe about being stalked by a violent man when you're still only a teenager.

"I'm not going to sleep," he whispers, shifting me in closer so that my chest is flush with his, my head tucked beneath his chin. He's rigid and tense, but it's a battle for him to stay that way as his hand runs down the back of my hair, twirling a lock around his finger only to release and start all over again. "I'm going to get you to sleep and go back. But she's fine for a couple of hours heading in this direction, and the storm is going in the other. It won't last much longer like this."

"No. Shit. Stone, just go. I'm fine." I suck in a shaky breath, feeling awful and selfish for keeping him here. "I am."

He runs a soothing hand down the back of my head. "Shh. It's okay. Just relax and go to sleep."

"Why are you being nice to me?"

He chuckles lightly, the sound vibrating through his chest and into my body. "Because I can't stand to see you like this, and I'd do anything—even be nice—to take that fear away. I also knew about the storm and didn't tell you. I should have. You probably would have changed your mind about coming, and that would have been the right thing to do. I didn't think it'd hit us. Yet another thing I was heedless with. "

I peer up at him, able to make out his face in the darkness now that my eyes have adjusted. "What does that mean? Another thing you were heedless with?"

He looks down at me, and our eyes lock before his momentarily drift down to my lips before climbing back up. He doesn't answer, but I didn't expect him to. That's Stone. His cards held tight, and his heart locked away.

"Close your eyes, baby girl. I've got you."

I place my hand on his chest, his skin hot beneath my palm. I don't know what I'm doing or why I'm doing it, but I don't care, and I don't want to stop either. "What if I can't go to sleep? What if I need something to help take my mind off everything?"

He licks his lips, that dark look he had the first night crawling back over his features but there's something else there too. Hunger. His gaze dips to my mouth once more, and his grip on me tightens.

"You said you'd do anything," I tack on when he doesn't move or respond.

"You really want to test that?"

Do I? "Yes. So will you help me or not?"