Page 37 of Johnny

“My father’s, actually. But he died five years ago.”

“Oh,” I breathe out. “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize. I mean… I’m just sorry.”

“No need to be,” he says, leaning up against the closed door to the guest head. He tilts his head and

studies me. “We weren’t close, so.” He shrugs. “You said you had a father?”

“Everyone has a father,” I say. Because that’s a weird question.

“Yeah.” He kinda laughs. But it’s one of those not-laughs. More like a huff of cynicism. “We have

fathers, just not mothers, right?”

“Hmm,” I say. “I suppose that’s true.”

“You suppose? Did you grow up with a mother?”

“No,” I say, shaking my head. “Just me and my father.”

“And you were close to him?”

Why is he asking me this? What is he looking for?

“You must’ve been,” he says. “Because you sympathized with me when you found out mine was

dead.”

Shit. He’s one of those people. The kind who reads between the lines. I decide to be truthful about

this. Because I’m on day one here and I need to get to day two. “Yeah. We’re close. He’s all I have,

actually.”

“I get it. I have two brothers and a cousin. I wouldn’t call us close, but they are all I have as well.

That’s why I’m here.”

“I thought you were looking for Charlotte.”

“Yeah, I am. But that’s because—” The boat lurches again but this time it’s Johnny who loses his

balance.

I wish I could say he fell into me, and I got to grope him for a few moments, and then we had this

awkward moment where we realized we had some bizarre mutual attraction brewing and then we

kissed. Or fucked. Or… whatever.

But that’s not what happens. Unfortunately.

He stumbles backwards the other way, crashes against the doorjamb of the master cabin, steadies

himself, and just stares at me. Not in a way that hints at our nonexistent brewing attraction, but in a

way that scares me and makes my heart beat faster.

“What?” I say, when he holds my gaze far past awkward. “Why are you looking at me that way?”