Page 139 of I’m The Worst

The smell of saltwater hits me the second we step onto the deck, the breeze warmer than it’s been in days. In the distance, a sprawling harbor comes into view—cargo ships, cranes, rows of industrial buildings, and beyond that, the skyline of the city rising along the coast.

My fingers tighten around the cold railing while the ship cuts slowly through the water toward the docks.

Wolff stands beside me in silence.

I glance at him, trying to read something—anything—from his face, but he’s locked down again. Eyes scanning constantly. His attention never staying in one place for more than a second.

Swallowing hard, I look back out at the water.

“So what happens when we get off the ship? Do we just…” The words die in my throat when I realize he isn’t listening. “Wolff.” I take a slow breath, trying to steady myself. “Can you just talk to me? Please? You can’t just⁠—”

The ship horn blasts loudly enough to shake the deck beneath us. I jump at the sound, heart lurching into my throat.

Wolff doesn’t even flinch.

The harbor grows closer.

People crowd the railings now, bags in hand, voices overlapping as everyone pushes to get a better look at the shoreline. The energy around us shifts instantly—relief, excitement, impatience.

I’m closer to home…and maybe once we’re back in Chicago, things can be…different.

Real.

The thought blooms fragile hope inside my chest.

I glance up at him again, searching desperately for some crack in the walls he slammed back into place this morning. But he just stares ahead at the harbor, unreadable and distant.

The ship slows as we near the dock. Thick ropes are thrown onto the pier while crew members shout over the noise. Passengers start moving toward the gangway. My fingers tighten harder around the railing while I stare down at the crowd gathered below.

And then—my breath catches.

“Oh my god.”

My heart stops.

“Gage?” I rasp. “Dad?”

I lean forward so fast my hands slip on the railing, trying to see through the crowd below.

My dad stands near the front of the pier, posture rigid even from this distance, hands shoved into the pockets of his coat. Beside him, Gage, my twin, scans the crowd, his face half-hidden under a beanie.

The world blurs instantly.

I don’t even remember moving.

One second, I’m standing beside Wolff.

The next, I’m sprinting.

People curse as I shove past them, boots pounding against the deck while tears blur my eyes until I can barely see.

“AJ!” Gage shouts.

His face changes instantly—the panic, the exhaustion, all of it cracking apart so fast it nearly destroys me. I barely make it down the gangway before he reaches me first. His arms slam around me, knocking the air out of my lungs as he lifts me completely off the ground.

A sob tears from my chest as I cling to him, arms wrapping around his neck while I bury my face against his shoulder and break apart. I squeeze my eyes shut as I breathe him in, his familiar scent flooding me—like home. Like safety.

“Jesus Christ, AJ,” he chokes out.