Going Under (Wildfire Lake 2)

He nods. “Thanks. It’s stage four, and I’ve been to doctors all over the world, but even the most expensive doctors can’t change the cells in your body or how they work. I’ve come to terms with it—as much as anyone can—and I’ve rearranged my priorities, as dying people often do.

“It might be cliché, but I want to get my affairs in order so that when I pass, my family won’t be burdened with things like selling boats and houses and cars. And as much as I love that girl, I love my family more, and unfortunately, two of my daughters get severely motion sick, so I end up sailing alone.”

My mind flits to Violet, Poppy, and Jazz, and I wonder if they get motion sick. But that doesn’t matter now. “My father did that for me before he died, so I can tell you from experience that they will benefit greatly from your efforts.”

He nods and looks wistfully out to sea. “I want to spend the time I have left with my family.”

“Understandable.”

“When I heard about you,” he says, “I wanted to create an offer you couldn’t refuse, because I really want to see this sailboat on the ocean.”

We talk a little about my family, which, of course, is a short conversation. I look out at the boat again, and I can’t deny the excitement that surfaces. This is a lifelong dream coming true. I know I’ve worked my ass off for it, planned and planned and planned some more to make it happen, but it still feels surreal.

A catamaran appears in the distance, and a different kind of longing stirs right beside the first. I manage to keep up the small talk with Croft as the cat anchors offshore in the stunningly blue waters of the Pacific. There are at least half a dozen people on the deck, several of them kids. They time their jump from the deck into the ocean so they all go in together.

That could have been Ben and me with the girls.

“Sweet,” Croft says, also watching the cat. “That’s what it’s all about, right there. Sure, you have to work to get there, but then you should slow down and savor all you’ve built.” After sitting in companionable silence, watching the family climb back onto the boat to jump in again, Croft says, “Well, little lady, I’m getting tired. Time for my siesta.”

“Of course.”

I stand, and he gets to his feet slowly. With my gaze on the family in the cat, I bite the inside of my lip to keep me in the here and now. I offered that life to Ben, and he rejected it. I can’t change his choices.

“I love your girl,” I tell him. “I can get you a cashier’s check for the deposit tomorrow and the rest of the money after I work things out with the bank. No more than two days.”

“Sounds great. Are you sailing her home?”

That’s an exciting idea, but it will take too long, and I have a lot of work to get done. “I don’t have the time right now. If it’s okay with you and the marina, I’d like to leave her here for the next four or five months.”

“I’m sure that will be fine. They’ll take good care of her, and the slip rent is dirt cheap.”

I smile. “My favorite kind.”

22

KT

I deplane with anxiety down to the roots of my hair. Did I make the right decision? I know there’s no going back on it now, but I still feel the need to toil over it in my mind.

The Santa Barbara airport is small, and I make my way to the exit quickly enough. I’m glad Chloe will be picking me up. I’m going to need a real pep talk on the way home.

I’m deep in my head as I exit the security checkpoint and follow the flow of pedestrian traffic toward baggage and the curbside pickup where Chloe will be waiting. My heart is all tied up in my chest, and tears sting the bridge of my nose.

I need to talk myself down. These emotions are unreasonable. This isn’t life or death. I shouldn’t feel like I’m on the edge of an abyss.

“Kat.”

The name skims through my head, familiar yet not. With my brain pinging all over the place, my heart rate climbs. I have no idea what I’m going to say to Ben—

“Kat.”

This time, I glance toward the man speaking, and it’s Ben. My feet stop. I’m disoriented. Fear strikes my heart.

Before I can get words out, he puts up both hands and says, “Everyone is fine. I’m just here to pick you up instead of Chloe.”

My breath whooshes from my chest, and I press a hand to the discomfort. “Oh my God, you scared me.”

“I’m sorry.” He’s wearing jeans, cross-trainers, and a faded UCSD School of Medicine hoodie. His hair is mussed, and he hasn’t shaved in a few days. He looks fucking delicious. “I was hoping we could talk.”