"I still think this is a bad idea," Finn growls. "I mean, come the fuck on."
"We realize it's not ideal, but we've already scheduled the water crew for on-deck shoots for the next couple weeks," Matt tells him. "We can't change the shot list without a lot of juggling, guys."
"And once we push off, Levi won't want to stay at home, off the boat," Giles reasons.
I nod. "It's true, but--"
Matt puts his hand on my arm. "There is no but. Without medical personnel monitoring the injury, the studio lawyers won't let you step foot off the dock. This solution satisfies everyone."
"And helps ratings," Finn says, looking over at them. "I mean, let's at least call it what it is."
"You're right," Matt says, nodding. "It's television. This is a bump in the road, but let's at least use it to our advantage. The audience is going to want Levi there. Because, yeah, if I'm honest, capturing his frustration is good TV." He looks at me, apologetically. "All right? We'll keep her on the crew ship. She'll only come on the Linda to check you out."
None of us can argue with that.
Finn lifts his chin. "Why do I have a feeling you already have someone picked out?"
Matt's mouth twitches. "We're looking into some options. We'll keep you posted."
THERE ARE ABOUT A hundred ways to be killed on a fishing boat on any given day. Things swing overhead, lines and nets are all over the place, we're being constantly jostled by the ocean, and--even while trolling--we're moving at a speed of up to eight knots at any given time.
Add in a bum leg, painkillers, and a set of crutches, and it's a recipe for disaster. But obviously, the producers of the show realize that this is an angle they can manipulate--the danger of life at sea--and only six days after the accident, I'm at the harbor, following my brothers and the crew to the slip.
"You sure you're okay to do this?" Finn asks for about the tenth time since he picked me up.
As the kid brother, I'm not surprised that Finn is hovering, but I'd still like to push him off the side of the dock.
"Would you stop?" I growl, and he shoots me a stony, protective look.
Beth, our location manager, stops us before we climb on board and looks at her clipboard. "Today we're getting--" she flips the top page up and then drops it down, "ten shots."
The boom operator comes to me, adjusting the wireless mic hidden in my parka.
"We're pushing off as soon as we can get everyone loaded and micced," Beth says, nodding to Ashleigh, the PA, to go ahead and get aboard the Lenny Lou, the ship the crew is based on and which houses all of the sound, filming, and mixing equipment. They're supposed to remain as unobtrusive as possible, but really, they're not very good at it.
Looking to Finn, Beth says, "Emmy will ride with you guys today."
"Emmy?" Finn says and then turns to look behind me. The protective big brother hat slips for a moment, and a sharp laugh bursts past his lips. "Well, would you fucking look at that."
How had I possibly forgotten about the nurse? We turn to see a woman in the distance, confidently making her way toward us. I'm relieved to see she's wearing jeans, boots, and a heavy ski jacket rather than a tiny white dress and nurse's cap.
But fuck me if my chest doesn't grow tight at the sight of her.
Emmy Lewis.
A familiar pang settles in my chest when I think back on how fucking in love with her I was. It was sweet at twelve, desperate at fifteen, and nearly painful when we turned seventeen and I still hadn't got up the courage to tell her how I felt.
Fucking Matt, fucking Giles.
I blink over to Matt, my pulse racing. "Is this a joke? She's not really a nurse, is she?"
"Of course she is." He rocks on his heels. "Registered nurse. We borrowed her from Mount St. Mary's over in Victoria." I can see the glimmer of delight in his eyes. He's hit the jackpot. "Let's hop on board and keep the cameras rolling."
So they can capture her climbing onto the boat.
Because right now, they're capturing my reaction and I'm too stunned to school it.
I turn, letting Colton help me up the stairs.