Catch and Release

by Laura Drewry

  He shifted his stance so he could see through the window beside the door. Even though he couldn’t hear what was being said, by the way Finn and Liam were acting and the smile on Hope’s face, things must be going well.

  Good. If he let those two do all or most of the talking, maybe he wouldn’t have to spend as much time alone with her. Yeah, that’d be good. His brothers were better at people stuff anyway, so while they entertained Hope, Ro set to work setting up his salmon rod.

  He slid it out of its case and examined it inch by inch, making sure there were no cracks, dings, or scratches, before attaching one of his new flashtrap spinners to the line. If that little gold-colored gem did its job properly today, he’d limit out by lunch time.

  Finn piloted the boat north through Fitzhugh Sound just as Ronan slid his rod into one of the holders and inhaled a long, deep breath. There was never any need for them to discuss where they’d go when they finally had a day out together; they always went to the same place.

  Milbanke Sound was their place, the place Da used to take them every year, even after Maggie left. When they were kids, it was the one place they could go and pretend that none of the real shit had ever happened, that Maggie was still at the Buoys waiting for them, that Da wasn’t going to end up shit-faced when they got back, and that none of them were going to end up black and blue.

  It was where they’d spread Da’s ashes last spring, and it was the one place they’d never taken guests, because…well, because it was their place. And yet here they were, cruising up the coast with Hope in tow.

  As if she knew he was thinking about her, Hope stepped outside, closing the door behind her, but not before Ro caught Jessie’s voice crackling over the radio, no doubt doing her hourly check-in.

  “Hey.” The wind caught her braid and whipped strands of it loose around her head like a tornado, until she managed to pull them back down. Just as she did, the boat came up on the wake left by the ferry they’d passed a couple of seconds ago.

  “Hold on,” he warned, but he already knew it was too late.

  The bow lifted off the first wave and came down hard, throwing Hope off-balance and sending her stumbling toward the hip-high railing. Having crashed into it himself a few times, Ro knew how unforgiving it was, so, in what turned out to be more of a scrambling dive rather than the casual couple of steps he’d planned, he managed to get himself between the rail and Hope just as she slammed face-first into his chest.

  “Oof.” Grunting and slipping, she clutched the front of his jacket with both hands and tried to straighten, but the bow lifted and came down again, sending more water up and over the side before either one of them had found solid footing.

  Laughing over a low curse, Ronan wrapped his right arm around her waist and dragged her up against him while he grabbed the railing with his left hand and steadied them through the next bump, hunching over a little to protect her from the water that crested over the side.

  In the scramble, she’d let go of her braid, and even though those loose strands blew around both of them now, she hadn’t done anything to tame them again. Instead, she just laughed as she tucked her face between her fists and held on to Ro tighter.

  Even through all their layers of clothes and jackets, it felt so freakin’ good to have her up against him like that. He could only imagine how much better it would feel to strip back some—no, all—of those layers and get skin to skin with her.

  “I…uh…” She didn’t release her grip on him, but she lifted her face and blushed as she smiled up at him sheepishly. “Thank you.”

  The boat bumped again, not nearly as hard as the first couple of times, though, so he could have—he should have—let her go and moved away. But now that he’d gotten a small taste of what she felt like, he wasn’t ready to do anything other than stand there holding on to her awhile longer, especially since she’d made no effort to uncurl her hands from his jacket.

  He liked that; he liked it a lot, actually. He especially liked it when she stood there looking up at him as she ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip, while the loose strands of her hair danced across his cheek.

  “Sorry,” she mumbled, letting him go and backing away so she could wrangle her hair under control. “They’re misleading, those waves. They don’t look nearly as strong as they are.”

  He started to reach for her again, to bring her back to where he wanted her, but in that moment he caught sight of Finn’s face grinning at him through the cabin window, and Ro instantly dropped his arm.

  “Uh, yeah,” he muttered. “If you’re not ready for them…you all right?”

  “Yeah, I’m fine.” Laughing lightly, she spread her feet a little wider, rebalanced herself, then took a few seconds to retie her hair. “That’s better.”

  No, it wasn’t, but Ro knew better than to let that thought slip out. Sure, it was better for her, but even if he stood right next to her, the only strands still whipping around were too short to reach him.

  Shit. He needed to stop thinking about that.

  “So how come you’re out here?” she asked. “It’s considerably less windy inside.”

  “Yeah, but out here I don’t have to listen to those two.” He tipped his head toward the door, but Hope didn’t even turn; she just kept her gaze focused on him. And while part of him really liked that, it made the other part of him twitchy, because he didn’t want her seeing too much, didn’t want her to know that that was only part of it. The other part was that he’d been trying to keep his distance from her. So much for that.

  “Nice try,” she said, smiling as she nodded slowly. “But I already know the truth.”

  “Yeah?” God, his mouth was dry. “And what truth is that?”

  “That you love those two more than anything in the world.”

  Relief whooshed out of Ro on a loud snort. “The truth is they’re both idiots.”

  “Maybe so,” she laughed. “But if I were to say that, you’d knock my teeth down my throat, wouldn’t you?”

  “No.” He knew she was kidding, but he wasn’t, and it only took her about half a second to realize that.

  “What if I was a guy?”

  Ronan rocked his head from side to side for a second, then shrugged and—God, was he blushing again?—grinned.

  Blinking away from him, Hope cleared her throat, then licked her lips and pointed to the green-headed mallard that bobbed along in the water, completely indifferent to the boat as it sped by.

  “Did you know Donald Duck’s middle name is Fauntleroy?”

  “Uh, no.” Ronan laughed quietly. “I didn’t, but I’ll keep it in mind in case I ever make it to Disneyland.”

  “You’ve never been to Disneyland?”

  Ro shook his head. “I take it you have?”

  “Uh, yeah,” she scoffed. “Like three times! How do you grow up on the West Coast and never take a family vacation down to California?”

  “Family vacations weren’t exactly high on Da’s list of things to do. He’d bring us up here for a week once a year, but other than that, if and when we left the Buoys, we went to the mainland, either to watch Liam play ball or to pick up supplies.”

  For the first time since they’d pulled away from the dock, Ro started to feel like he always did when they came up here: full, content, relaxed.

  “We’ve been coming here every year since Finn was old enough to hold a rod. The older we got, the harder it was to get us all together for that much time, so it’s dwindled down to this now—one day, maybe two, a year.”

  The more he said, the more she paled.

  “Oh my God.” Hope pressed her hands over her face for a second and groaned. “Jessie didn’t say anything about this being your one day. It is, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah, but—”

  “Great—and here I am completely butting into it! Can we go back? Is it too late?” She started for the door, but Ronan caught her wrist and pulled her back.

  It wasn’t as if he was touching her skin or anything, be
cause clearly she’d dressed to ward off the early-morning chill she hated so much, but, just like before, there was something about touching her—any part of her—that fascinated him.

  And she either didn’t notice or didn’t care, so he stayed right where he was.

  “We’re not turning around, Hope. It’s fine.”

  “It’s not fine!” she cried. “I promised you we’d respect your privacy, and here I am blowing that to shit already!”

  He didn’t know why that struck him as funny. Maybe it was because she was so earnest in her concern. Or maybe it was because he honestly didn’t mind that she was there with them on their first day of freedom that year.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “If Jessie had told me this, I never would have come, especially since I—”

  She’d been staring at it for the last couple of seconds, but it seemed as if she’d only just noticed his hand wrapped around her wrist. Instead of pulling it away, like Ro expected, she kept looking at it, as though she didn’t completely understand what it was that she was seeing. Even when Finn banked the boat to the left around the top of Campbell Island and sent them both a bit off-balance, she simply adjusted her stance but never once looked away.

  “Since you what?” he prodded. “Hope?”

  It took her a second to blink up at him, and going by the way she was frowning at him, he’d have guessed that her mouth and her brain were working on two completely different levels.

  “Fish,” she finally said, scratching her head with her free hand. “I’ve never fished before.”

  “Never?” It was as though a little burst of fireworks went off in Ro’s chest. There was nothing like watching someone fall in love with fishing, and he had zero doubt that Hope was going to love the hell out of it. “Then there’s no way we’re turning this boat around. Come here.”

  He pulled a life jacket out of the bin, tossed it over by the door, then nudged her down until she was sitting on it with her back against the wall. And even though it pained him a little, he released her wrist, but only because he needed both hands to work.

  After handing her one of the extra spinning rods they kept on board, Ronan sat cross-legged in front of her and explained the differences between the one in her hands and the bait-casting rod in his. Once she’d given them both a good going-over and had asked a few questions, he slid the rods into their holders, then set his tackle box in front of her and watched her eyes widen when he lifted the top.

  Unlike Finn, who kept his shitload of gear in one of those overpriced backpack-type tackle boxes with umpteen pockets and zippers, or Liam, who kept his minimal amount of gear in an old coffee can, Ro kept everything he needed to catch salmon or halibut in a three-tier box.

  And it didn’t matter that he already knew exactly what was in it; every time he opened the box up, he felt like a kid on Christmas morning again.

  “May I?” Hope reached her hand toward the tricolored spoon lure on the top tier, but she stopped before she touched it and looked up at him, waiting for permission.

  If he believed in shit like that, Ro would have sworn he fell in love with her right there. Instead, he just smiled and nodded.

  “ ’Course.” And before he could say anything else, she began firing questions at him, wanting to know what the differences were between all the lures, what made him choose one over the other, why he had three different spools of line, what the pliers were for, and if he ever used live bait.

  He forced himself to look away from her once in a while, but he could still feel her steady gaze on him as he answered each of her questions. A few days ago she could barely glance his way, and here she was now, studying him, listening to him, and smiling at him like…whew.

  By the time Finn slowed the boat down out in the middle of Milbanke Sound, Hope had picked up almost everything in the box, turned it over in her hand, then put it back exactly where she’d found it.

  “So I, um…I sort of told Kevin I was going to bring in a hundred-pound halibut today.” Her smile was part grimace, part eager enthusiasm. “What are the chances of that actually happening?”

  “You? A hundred—” Ro snorted, then gave himself a mental kick and scrambled to say something—anything—that would bring back her fading smile. “I mean…uh…It’s just that we’re not going for halibut today. Yeah, that’s what I meant. But, sure, of course, if we were going for halibut, then…no question…that’d definitely happen. Absolutely.”

  The more he blathered on, the wider she smiled, until Ro squirmed and looked away.

  “Ronan.” She waited until he turned to her, then gave him what he assumed was supposed to be a stern look but wavered when her eyes crinkled. “You wouldn’t be lying to me, would you?”

  “Hell no,” he said, blurting it out over a laugh. “Anything’s possible, right? Maybe not probable but definitely possible.”

  Why couldn’t he stop smiling at her? He tried to, especially when the door whooshed open beside them, but it was Hope who finally broke the connection and looked up at Liam.

  “Ronan was just showing me his tackle.”

  “Yeah,” Liam snorted. “I’m sure he was.”

  Ro resisted the temptation to clock his brother but only because Hope didn’t seem to pay any mind to Liam’s remark.

  “I’ve never fished before,” she said. “So he was—”

  “Wait. What?” Liam’s hands froze in midair for a second, but before he could catch his breath, Finn was already there.

  “Did she just say she’s never fished before?”

  “No,” Hope said, then shook her head. “I mean, yes, I said that.”

  Without even looking at each other, Finn and Liam bumped fists and let out whoops of joy. For the rest of the morning, the three of them took turns piloting the boat while the other two showed Hope how to cast, how to reel, and how to tie proper knots around her lures.

  She did everything they told her to do, and yet when they reeled everything up at lunchtime, she was the only one without a fish in the cooler. Liam offered to let her reel in his next fish, but she refused.

  “It doesn’t count if I don’t hook it myself,” she said.

  Neither Liam nor Finn responded, but their nods and grins said everything, and no matter what happened with the filming or anything else, Hope had earned a whole bunch of respect with that one sentence.

  With Liam behind the wheel and Finn fishing off the bow, Ro had just cast again when Hope’s rod jerked. And instead of freaking out, the way most people did the first time they hooked a fish, she let out an initial squeal, then hollered good and loud.

  “Fish on, boys!”

  Ro and Finn reeled in their lines as quickly as they could, stowed their rods in the holders, then stood back and watched as Hope put everything she’d learned, everything she’d spent the day watching, into practice.

  Feet braced, rod tip up, she alternated between reeling and letting the fish run, and all the while Ronan and Finn were right there, laughing, instructing, and hoping to hell her line didn’t snap. A couple of times she thought she’d lost the damn thing, but it held on, so she did, too, tongue sticking out between her teeth, until finally, grunting and laughing, she pulled it close enough to the boat that Ro could lean over and scoop it up in the net.

  He reached for the bonker, but Hope already had it.

  “You sure?” he asked. “I can do this part if you want.”

  It was halting at best, but she shook her head and exhaled slowly. “Thanks, but I…I got it.”

  Behind her, Finn’s eyes were huge, but Ro just nodded and pointed toward the fish’s forehead.

  “Hard and fast,” she murmured. “Don’t let him suffer.”

  It was over in a second, and without even looking up, Hope took the pliers from Ronan and worked the hook out of the fish’s mouth.

  “Hell of a job!” Finn said. “Hold it up; we’ll get a picture.”

  She did as he said, even smiled in the photo, but not with her usual brightness. Ro w
aited until his brothers went back to their posts before he moved up next to her so he didn’t have to raise his voice.

  “You okay?” Stupid question, because clearly she wasn’t, so when she shrugged and readied herself to cast again, he stopped her. “Hope. Look at me.”

  It took her a few long blinks, but she finally lifted her glistening eyes up to him.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Reeling that fish in was amazing, but now I’m thinking there’re already four or five in the cooler, so isn’t this overkill?”

  Ronan lifted the rod out of her hand and slipped it into the holder, then walked her back to where they sat earlier and waited until she was leaning against the wall, her legs stretched out, her hands twisting in her lap.

  “Listen to me,” he said, crouching down next to her. “I know you’ve only been at the Buoys a few days, but think about this: Since you arrived, have you seen anything go to waste?”

  “What?” She frowned. “God no. Just yesterday I saw Jessie drop an ice cube on the floor, and instead of tossing it in the sink, she dropped it in one of the plants!”

  “Exactly. That fish you reeled in is going to make a helluva good dinner tonight, and any parts we don’t use ourselves, like the head and tail, we leave for the seals. Nothing gets wasted; nothing’s taken for granted.”

  “But we have all those other fish already,” she said, glancing around guiltily. “We can’t eat all of it tonight.”

  “ ’Course not, but we’ll make short work of at least two of them, and whatever we don’t eat tonight will either get smoked or canned and served to guests.”

  She stared down at her hands for a long moment, and when she finally looked up again, most of the guilt was gone from her expression, but in its place was regret.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I didn’t think it would affect me, you know? You must think I’m a lunatic for carrying on like this.”

  He didn’t. Not even close.

  “It’s just…” She rubbed her hands over her face, then let them fall again. “I never really thought about it before, which is stupid, I know, because I buy meat and fish at the store all the time, but who really thinks about where it comes from, you know? But this—catching it yourself—is…humbling.”