Going Under (Wildfire Lake 2)

That isn’t something that even came into the realm of possibility in all this chaos, nor should it be. Not only don’t I sail, I don’t travel. Jana and I never had the money, or the kids were too little, or I was at a new job, or she got cancer. There was always an excuse.

But when I think about the possibility, that glimmer reappears, the one that sparkled to life when Kat suggested the idea on a smaller scale, and it’s begging me to come closer for a better look.

Only, that’s not what Kat offered. She didn’t say come away with me, she said come visit me, two very different ideas. The former holding one hell of a lot more responsibility and commitment. And Kat isn’t big on commitment.

With my hands braced against the quartz countertop of the ten-foot-long island, I stare blankly into the family room. “What would I do if I weren’t afraid?”

My mind drifts back to the night Jana died. I held her hand and cried while she told me what a good husband and father and friend I’d always been. How she had no doubt the girls would flourish in my care. How this chapter of my life with her was ending, but that a new one was just beginning for me. She wanted me to grab hold of life with one hand and the girls with the other and live like I was living for her too.

“What would I do if I wasn’t afraid?” The question seems simple on the surface, but it’s not at all. There are levels of fear. Waves and surges. I think through my feelings for Kat and all the fears entangled in those emotions.

I’m afraid I’m not enough for Kat. I’m afraid my feelings for her are blinding me to where I really need to focus, and I’m afraid of being naïve and foolish. I’m afraid she’ll find a man she wants more than she wants me. I’m afraid of losing her after I’ve invested myself, heart, body, and soul, and I’m afraid of letting the girls get in deep with her, only to lose another woman they love.

“Jesus Christ.” I straighten and rub my face with both hands. I have so many fears, it’s shocking I can function at all.

I have some serious soul searching to do, because it’s clear fear has been running my life for the last four years, and I have no fucking idea what I’d do if I wasn’t afraid.

21

KT

Warm air brushes my skin and joy pulses through my veins as I take in the last sail and secure it before trolling toward the dock and positioning the boat in her slip.

Hayward Croft, the boat’s owner, comes out of the marina’s office and approaches the slip, smiling. I toss him a line, and he ties it off as I work on another. He’s American, but hops between several different countries, where he has a home in each. He’s probably in his sixties, and he’s fit, definitely still fit enough to sail this boat.

“She sure looks good out there,” he says, straightening. “Nice to see her in such capable hands.”

“She’s easy to run.” And damn fun too.

I start to clean up, but Croft waves me off. “The guys will do that. Take a walk with me.”

Two dockhands stand by as I step off the boat and wander down the dock by Croft’s side.

“So, what do you think?” he asks. “I’d sure love her to go to someone like you. She deserves a loving, experienced owner who will get her out of the slip regularly.”

I smile. “She won’t see a slip very often.”

When we reach the office, we both slide into seats at a table on the patio with an umbrella. We compare notes on various locations we’ve sailed, and I talk about my background and my future plans.

“That’s ambitious,” he says. “Who’s sailing with you?”

“No one. Just me.”

“Oh.” He’s taken aback. “That’s a lonely endeavor.”

I expected him to say unsafe, not lonely. I can’t ever remember being lonely at sea before, but when I sailed alone, it was between gigs on ships packed with thousands of people, so, yeah, I savored the isolation.

“I won’t be alone for long periods unless I’m crossing. I have friends everywhere. I’ll be making lots of stops.”

He nods. “That’s good to hear. Over the years, I’ve discovered that the joy of sailing comes from the shared experiences with people who matter.”

That thought is way too deep to ponder now, so I push it away. “Be honest with me. Why are you selling her at such a reduced price? I know my boats, and I know she’s worth at least fifty grand more than you’re asking. I can fix anything, so if there’s something wrong with her, it won’t deter me from buying, but I’d like to know what it is.”

He chuckles. “There’s not a thing wrong with her. I bought her bra

nd-new and have had professional mechanics keep her up. They baby her, to be honest. The truth is I was recently diagnosed with colon cancer.”

My stomach drops. “Oh, jeez. I’m so sorry to hear that.”