by Ren Holly
“Get off,” Andrew hissed. “Someone is here.”
Ace rolled off with a huff as someone banged loudly on the door.
Andrew slapped Ace hard across the face. “How dare you come into my house and force yourself onto me,” he growled through clenched teeth and tears. “You’re not the man that I thought you were.” Andrew wiped his tears and tightened the towel around his waist before swinging the door open to greet his savior. It was Anna. She eyed him with raised eyebrows.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “Should I go?”
“No.” Andrew sniffed. “Ace was just leaving.” Ace slammed his fist on the doorframe as he left, clearly not pleased with the progression of events.
“Well, you’re the one missing out,” he scoffed. “I’ve never told you, but I come from an extremely wealthy family.”
“Then why was I the one always buying you dinner?” Andrew shot back before gently pulling Anna inside and slamming the door. They watched through the blinds as Ace stomped back to the lodge, aggressively swatting mosquitoes.
“So what happened?” asked Anna. “What did you say to Garrett?”
“I haven’t even seen Garrett today.” Andrew sighed, grasping at the towel around his waist.
“What?” asked Anna, alarmed. “Didn’t you get my text? Garrett is the one that brought Ace to your place.”
“Dammit,” Andrew groaned, still wiping his tears. “I better go talk to him.”
“He left.” Anna twisted her shirt nervously. “I saw him board the ferry.”
Andrew pulled out his phone and dialed Garrett’s number. It went straight to voicemail.
“Is he coming back?” asked Andrew, growing uneasy.
“I don’t know.” Anna shrugged. “I saw him getting on the ferry from the lodge porch.”
“I’m going to go see if I can catch him,” said Andrew, and jumped up to put clothes on.
“How?”
“With one of the skiffs.”
“Do you know how to drive it?” Anna asked skeptically.
“For the most part.” Andrew nodded. How hard can it be? Crank it like a lawn mower and steer with the lever.
“You better be careful,” Anna sighed. “I would take you, but I have to get back to work.”
“I will,” Andrew promised, pulling on his shirt, then rushing out the door.
“Call me when you get there!” Anna called after him.
Chapter 9
GARRETT GLANCED at his watch. It was well after lunchtime. He’d been sitting in a coffee shop for God knew how many hours, trying to decide whether he should go home or venture back to the island. The thought of watching Andrew and Ace rekindle their romance made him feel nauseous, but going home to a mother hell-bent on matchmaking wasn’t much better.
I’ll call her. He pulled out his phone. It was dead. He plugged it into an outlet near his table and waited. It buzzed to life—and kept buzzing, and buzzing, and buzzing.
“What the heck?” Garrett grumbled, checking his call history. Notably there was a missed call from Andrew. He probably wants to give me the bad news, he sighed to himself. I was a coward for running away. There were also nearly twenty missed calls from Anna. Weird. Garrett dialed her number and waited.
“Hello?” Anna sounded frantic. “Is Andrew there with you?”
“What?” asked Garrett, confused. “I went off island.”
“I know. Andrew followed you in one of the skiffs,” Anna explained, “and now he’s not answering his phone. I’m worried.”
He followed me? The thought gave Garrett hope about their budding relationship. But does he even know how to drive the skiff? The hope was immediately overwhelmed by unease. If no one bothered to show Andrew the route from the dock to the marina he risked hitting a sandbar.
“He could be in town,” Garrett said, “but I’ll go see if the skiff is at the marina, just in case. Which one did he take?”
“Thanks. He took number three,” Anna sighed, relieved. “He sounded confident when he left, but I just haven’t heard from him. I’m a worrier.”
“Better safe than sorry.” Garrett hung up and set off through town, back over the causeway, and toward the north end of the main island. He tried Andrew’s cellphone again to no avail. As he drove, dark clouds rolled in and covered the clear, sunny sky in a foreboding gray blanket.
Nearly forty minutes passed before Garrett found himself jogging toward the dock, hoping desperately that Andrew had made it. He scanned the massive boats, looking for the skiff. The wind picked up and rustled his hair. Shit. Garrett pulled out his phone and dialed Anna.
“Skiff three isn’t here,” he rasped. “Are you sure he’s not on the little island?”
“He’s not,” Anna promised. “The skiff isn’t here, and he’s nowhere to be found.”
“When did he leave?” Garrett asked, jumping into the resort’s spare skiff and trying to decide where to start his search.
“Only a few minutes after the main boat this morning.” That was hours ago.
“That means the tide was going out,” Garrett reasoned. “I’ll head down the Hampton River to look for him.”
“You don’t think he was pulled out to sea, do you?” Anna cried.
“I doubt it.” It sounded more like a question. Garrett wasn’t sure if he was trying to convince Anna or himself. “I better go.”
“Keep you phone on!” Anna bellowed. “I’ve been trying to call both of you all day!”
“Sorry, I’ll keep you posted.” Garrett hung up, hopped in the little island’s spare boat, and took off without bothering to drift out of the no-wake zone.
He flew down the Hampton as fast as the skiff was able. He scanned the edges of the marsh, hoping to find Andrew before the storm broke. The sky darkened ominously by the minute. Garrett passed mile marker after mile marker. When he reached the mouth of Mosquito Creek, he peered down the inlet toward the resort. Surely he made it this far.
Garrett continued down the Hampton; he was nearly halfway to the ocean. If Andrew had lost control of the vessel while the tide was going out, he would be somewhere ahead. Please be okay, Garrett begged. I would understand if I lost you to Ace, but not to the sea. The tide was coming in quicker now. A few raindrops fell gently, tossed by the breeze as they made their descent. A great blue heron soared overhead, away from the impending storm.
Garrett could see Pine Island ahead. It was nothing more than a shallow marsh bordering the little island’s southern bank. He continued to scan the edges, cutting a straight line toward the ocean. If Andrew had drifted into an inlet, then he would be all right, but if he had drifted anywhere close to the hungry mouth of the ocean, Garrett needed to find him before it was too late.
When he finally rounded the southernmost tip of the island, Andrew was still nowhere to be seen. The wind was picking up, and the water was getting rough. Garrett stared out into the Atlantic, half-relieved not to see Andrew drifting in the distance and half-terrified he was still unfound.
If I don’t find him on my way back to the lodge, we need to call the coast guard. The gravity of the situation was not lost on Garrett. It might already be too late. He gripped the steering lever with white knuckles.
Garrett whipped the vessel around and recommenced his search with fervor. This time he cut in to survey the interior creek of Pine Island. The low tide revealed naked mud banks where only a handful of oysters grew. Garrett carefully maneuvered to avoid the sandbars already half-hidden by the incoming tide. Movement caught Garrett’s eye. He glanced up the muddy bank. The missing skiff was lodged firmly in the mud. Andrew sat upon it, waving frantically.
Oh thank God. Relief washed over Garrett in waves. He pulled out his phone to call Anna.
“I found him,” he gasped into the phone, “but he’s beached on Pine Island. I won’t be able to reach him until the tide comes in.”
“Oh my God,” Anna cried, “I should have gone to look for him earlier!”
“No,” Garrett assu
red her. “He seems fine. We’ll be back in an hour.”
“A storm is coming,” Anna warned. “Be careful.”
“I know.” Garrett grimaced, glancing up at the threatening thunderhead. “We will.”
Waiting was the hardest part. Garrett tried to call out to Andrew, but he was too far. The sloughing water and gusty breeze drowned out his voice. Andrew gestured wildly across the mudflat, but it was all lost on Garrett. Eventually he gave up and lay down in the boat, disappearing from sight. The act was concerning. Is he okay?
The incoming tide brought with it a torrential downpour, which was not altogether uncommon in humid heat of the Georgia coast. Still, it was nothing to scoff at. Lightning laced the sky, and thunder rumbled aggressively. Within seconds Garrett was drenched. The island manager would have been furious to know two of her staff members—one trained to know better—were being tossed about on unforgiving waves blown in from the Atlantic. We need to get back, Garrett fretted, before we are both stranded.
After a painstaking hour of delay, the water began to envelop Andrew’s boat. Garrett was finally able to get close enough to call out.
“Andrew.” He cupped his hands around his mouth to funnel the sound. Andrew’s head popped into view. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve been better,” Andrew called back. “I cut my foot.”
“Are you hurt anywhere else?”
“No.”
Oh thank God. “I’m going to throw you a rope,” Garrett explained. “Can you tie it to the mount on the front of the skiff?”
Andrew responded with a thumbs-up. Garrett quickly tied the rope to one of his oars and launched it in Andrew’s direction. He fell short, but only by a little. He quickly reeled in the oar and tried again. The second throw crashed loudly into Andrew’s boat. Garrett waited as Andrew freed the oar and retied the rope to the mount at the front of the skiff. Please hold, Garrett silently begged of the knot.
He put on the gas and slowly increased the speed until Andrew’s boat slid from the mud back into the water. Garrett pulled him in. His stomach flipped—the inside of the boat was covered in blood.
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Andrew called feebly.
Garrett had so many questions, but he settled with “Will you make it back to the little island?”
“Yes.”
Garrett set course for the lodge. The incoming tide aided their journey, carrying them as easily as if they were ants on a leaf. Within minutes they were turning down Mosquito Creek; the dock was just around the bend. The waves splashed violently into the boat, but it didn’t matter. Garrett and Andrew were already soaked to the bone. The daylight was fading fast as Garrett secured his boat to the dock. He jumped out and hauled Andrew’s boat to the next mooring and tied it firmly.
“Come on.” Garrett reached out to Andrew. “I’ll help you.” He hauled Andrew onto the dock and supported him against the length of his body.
Anna came running down the dock. The color in her face drained when she saw Andrew struggling to walk and the boat covered in blood.
“What happened?” she cried hysterically.
“It’s just a cut,” Andrew assured them. “I’m fine.”
“Anna, can you hose out the boat?” Garrett asked. “We’re toast if the island manager finds out about this.”
“Okay.” Anna nodded. “I have a truck waiting at the end of the dock.” She had clearly rushed to the dock after work and stared down the creek in sheer panic—just waiting.
Garrett was still in shock at the events of the day. He lowered Andrew into the passenger seat and jumped behind the wheel. Despite the proximity of their houses, he wasn’t sure Andrew could walk the distance. Garrett pulled right up to his house and lugged Andrew up the stairs.
Chapter 10
“WAIT,” ANDREW protested. “Take me to my house. I don’t want to get blood all over yours.”
“It’s fine,” Garrett snapped, sweeping Andrew off his feet once they reached the top. He carried Andrew to the bathroom and set him in the shower.
“May I?” Garrett asked, reaching for the hem of Andrew’s shirt. He nodded silently.
As he carefully removed the shirt, he scanned Andrew’s body for injuries. Garrett could feel Andrew trembling. He looked up. Andrew’s face was hidden in his hands. He was fighting back silent tears, the relief of rescue overwhelming. Garrett stood and pulled him close.
“It’s okay,” he soothed. “You’re safe.” He held Andrew and let him cry until there was nothing left.
“I’m sorry,” sobbed Andrew, “the boat ran out of gas.”
“It’s okay,” Garrett assured him gently, rubbing his back. He made a mental note to check the boat log. Whoever left the damn skiff without gas was going to get an earful. Perhaps he would recommend training courses for all staff members as well. “Let me see your foot.”
He pulled back and sank to his knees. Warm water rushed down his fully clothed back. Andrew leaned against the shower wall and cautiously lifted his foot so that Garrett could assess the damage.
“I stepped out of the boat,” Andrew explained, “but there was something sharp in the mud.”
“Probably buried oysters,” Garrett offered, eyeing the cut. “You have your tetanus shot, right?” Andrew mumbled an affirmative. “Good.” Garrett explained, “Oysters carry a lot of bacteria. We need to clean this cut really well.” Andrew nodded. “Let’s get the rest of your clothes off.”
Garrett carefully unzipped Andrew’s pants and lowered them to the floor so Andrew could step out. Garrett kept his eyes lowered, still uncertain about the status of their relationship. He rinsed the mud from the laceration and thoroughly cleaned it with soap. Andrew flinched several times but maintained composure with deep, calming breaths.
“It’s clean,” Garrett announced, standing. He looked into Andrew’s eyes. Now that Andrew was cleansed of the blood and marsh mud, Garrett noticed his face was quite red. He brought his hand to Andrew’s cheek.
“Ouch!” Andrew protested. “I’m pretty sure I fried myself under that afternoon sun.”
“But you’re okay.” Garrett breathed another sigh of relief and let his head rest on Andrew’s shoulder. “I was so worried.”
Andrew reached up and ran his fingers through Garrett’s hair and nuzzled his neck.
Without lifting his head, Garrett finally worked up the courage to ask, “You’re not back together with that Ace guy, are you?”
Andrew pushed Garrett back to look into his eyes. “You think I would let you strip me in your shower if I was?” he asked incredulously.
“You said you weren’t over him,” Garrett pressed, feeling insecure. Andrew stared at him for a moment, dumbstruck.
“I was over him the moment you kissed me on the beach,” he mumbled, blushing.
That was all that Garrett needed to hear. He pressed him back against the shower wall and kissed him hard. His hands were everywhere. Andrew was safe and all his—officially. It was truly a Christmas miracle.
Suddenly someone banged loud on the front door. Garrett jumped out of the shower and threw on some clothes. He tossed Andrew a spare towel and some shorts before running to the door.
Anna stood on the front porch, fidgeting impatiently. “Is he okay?” she asked, bulldozing Garrett for entry.
“My foot is bleeding again,” Andrew called from the bathroom. Anna busted in and threw herself at him.
“Oh my God,” she cried as she hugged him, “I was so worried about you.”
“I’m sorry, Anna”—Andrew patted her gently—“but I’m okay now.”
“Let me see your foot,” she ordered. She examined it closely. “Oysters?” she asked, glancing back at Garrett. He nodded.
“Here, I have some antibacterial cream,” he offered, “and we need to wrap it.”
“Anna,” Andrew interrupted, “you’re all wet. Why don’t you shower, and I’ll wrap my own foot?”
“Use my shower,” Garrett offered. “I’ll lend you so
me dry clothes.”
“Okay, but let Garrett do it,” she advised. “We’ve been trained in first aid.”
Andrew nodded obediently. “I’m going to need some aloe too,” he added with a dramatic wince.
Several minutes later, Anna emerged from the shower looking even more haggard than before. Garrett could tell the events of the day were wearing her down, possibly even more than Andrew. He watched, amused, as she tried to fight it, each blink lasting longer than the last. Her breathing slowed, and within minutes, she had dozed off peacefully on the couch.
“Let her sleep.” Andrew said. “Come on.” He tugged Garret’s hand.
Garrett stood up quietly and swooped Andrew off his feet. He deposited him gently onto the bed and closed the door. The bed creaked loudly in protest as Garrett stretched out next to Andrew. The moon filtered in through the blinds, and the Spanish moss cast dancing shadows on the wall. Garrett pulled Andrew to his chest and buried his face in Andrew’s hair. He still smelled like salt and rain.
Garrett slipped his hands under Andrew’s shirt and ran his fingers over his abs and up his chest. His pale skin was a stark contrast to Garrett’s own. He sighed blissfully, remembering their escapade on the beach.
“Make love to me,” Andrew whispered in the dark. Garrett hesitated. He didn’t want to make Andrew’s injury worse, and Anna was only a thin wall away.
“Please,” Andrew begged, clearly reading Garrett’s indecision. Andrew leaned in and tenderly pressed his lips to Garrett’s. They were soft and welcoming. Garrett held Andrew tight, trying to anchor him to that moment forever.
He released Andrew only long enough to carefully slide off his pants, cautious not to agitate the injury. He slipped off his own pants and trailed light kisses up Andrew’s leg as he slid back into place.
Garrett slowly lifted Andrew’s shirt up over his head. He was dazzlingly naked. His pale skin glowed in the moonlight despite his sunburn. Garrett positioned himself behind Andrew and wrapped his arms around him protectively. Andrew sighed into the night as Garrett pressed into him. They rocked slowly and quietly, hoping the rain pattering off the tin roof would drown out the sounds of their love. Garrett could feel Andrew trembled under his soft touch and wished that this exquisitely slow and tender moment could last forever.
