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Was she avoiding me now?
I rolled out on a creeper, having finished an oil change for a tourist, and my pager vibrated in the chest pocket of my overalls.
Fuck. Marching across the room, I grabbed my keys and hurried through locking up before darting into my house for a quick change.
Less than ten minutes later, I strode into the lifeboat station. Shona was in the radio room and saw me through the glass. Her suddenly pale expression made me brace as she threw open the door and stepped out.
“Forde … it’s Cammie. Donal’s engine cut out. The wind is already blowing them off course.”
Suddenly, it felt like the walls were closing in. Years of experience rescuing people out on those waters … and this was the first time I’d felt this level of fear.
Because I knew how quickly the sea could take everything from someone.
“Are the crew here?” My tone was clipped with the panic tightening my jaw.
“Bryan is. We’re just waiting on Isla and Grant. We’ll get to her,” Shona assured me. “I promise.”
But we both knew it was a promise she might not be able to keep.
The thought of losing Cameron tightened my chest to the point I felt the room sway. I leaned against the wall to catch my breath.
“Forde, maybe you should sit this one out.”
I shook my head frantically because if anything did happen to her and I hadn’t been out there to help find her, I’d never forgive myself.
There was nothing for it but to focus. I had to bury the panic and fucking focus.
Taking a deep, calming breath, I shook my head again. “I can do this.”
It was a constant battle to keep that terror at bay as another hour passed and we still hadn’t found Cameron and Donal. They weren’t on the path of water they should have been on between Kiln and Leth Sholas, which meant the boat kept drifting. Shona hadn’t been able to get Cameron back on the radio either, which added to my mounting panic.
At least I was down in the engine room, so I didn’t have to see everyone’s pitying looks the longer our search went on.
The only thing we had on our side was that the weather was stable. Unfortunately, “stable” still meant rough waters, and the evening light was fading.
Isla, our navigator, was using wind direction to plot our search course.
Losing my patience, I marched upstairs into the main cabin as a small swell rocked us hard. I grabbed for a handrail, keeping my feet as I glowered over at my friend. “Isla, what the fuck?”
She kept her attention glued to her computer screen. “They should be in this direction.”
“Isla …” I knew I was being unfair, but I was desperate.
Her shoulders tensed at my pleading. “Forde, I give you my word. We will not stop looking until we find them.”
Aye, but what if we didn’t?
That tightening in my chest reasserted itself, and I sucked in a deep, ragged breath. “Try her on the radio again.”
41. Cameron
The wind had blown us so far off course, I’d become numb with fear at this point. Or maybe it was just the freezing cold as the sun dipped below the horizon. It was pitch-black, and all we had was a torch that we couldn’t turn on because it was battery operated and we needed to keep it charged.
We’d learned that the hard way when my battery-operated radio died because I was the moron who hadn’t replaced the damn batteries in years.
Donal and I had squished ourselves into the tiny cabin together because it was marginally warmer in there, but I was starting to feel claustrophobic. Every time a rougher swell lifted the boat, I felt my frickin’ soul leave my body.
Growing up on an island, needing to cross the water constantly for life and work, I’d never been afraid of it. I’d respected it, which was important because that respect had kept me alive this long … but I’d never feared it until this moment.
