Page 51 of Holding On

Chapter Thirteen

Travis Hamilton

I swear to God, turkey sandwiches have never tasted so good. I knew she’d flip out when I told her, but to Maya’s credit, she stayed cool. She didn’t keep asking why or how, she just held me and kissed my forehead. The barge rocked us to sleep, and we woke about a half hour later.

It’s about two o’clock now, and we’re sitting out on the top deck, both of us buck naked, and she’s laughing at me. “Can’t imagine what gave you that appetite.”

I’m on my second sandwich and third orange.

It takes a minute to chase her down, and then after a silly struggle, I push her into the water. Her splash is small, and when she bobs to the top, she’s laughing.

“You better get in here right now, or that thing we just did will be off-limits for a long time,” she says, treading water and shaking a finger at me.

My answer is a swan dive. I rise and tread water right next to her.

Suddenly, her forehead knits into concern. “Hey. Are there sharks out here?”

“I suppose, but they aren’t interested in us.”

She doesn’t look convinced and starts to head to the ladder.

“Really, Maya. I’ve never heard of anyone it the North Atlantic getting attacked by a shark out in deep water.”

In a few strokes, I’m near her again.

“Well, I’m going up anyway. Sharks or no sharks, it’s freezing.”

She’s right. The water temp is probably sixty degrees, and it’s only safe to be in for a few minutes. Hypothermia is a real thing in Maine.

I help her up the ladder and then follow. She disappears into the cabin and then reappears with two thick, fluffy white terrycloth towels.

I chuckle. “I don’t see how these towels scream Carlson,” I say, wrapping the one she hands me around my waist.

“The towels are mine.” She tilts her head. “You said once you’d never have a boat unless—unless what?”

I kiss her, thrilled that I can just do this, right now in the sun, on this barge, salt spray around us.

I settle into my chair again and finish off the last bite of sandwich. “I’d want a glass bottom boat.”

“What are you? Willy Wonka?”

“I love the sea. In another life, I would become a marine biologist.”

“Really?”

“My thesis was on octopuses, remember?”

“But you don’t swim every day the way Finn and Claire do. Don’t they go every morning? I saw them the first two days in full wetsuits.”

I smile. “Well, I’m not insane. They do it for exercise. I never learned to dive with gear and it’s super expensive. If I’m going to be in the water, I want to know what’s going on, you know, beneath.”

“Get yourself a wetsuit and build toward the gear.”

“When I was old enough to start thinking about getting a wetsuit, George was closing up The Inn and trying to raise me and the girls. And then Chloe disappeared, and it just wasn’t anything I could afford. Scuba diving equipment is expensive, and lessons cost a lot too. The idea is to get to the point where I can hold my breath for a really long time, surface with just a snorkel, and go back down.”

She stands, spreads her long brown legs, and straddles my legs. When she sits down in my lap, my cock, as cold as it is right now from our dip in the water, starts to harden. It’s almost painful.

“I think you should show me what you’ve learned from those military guys. Let’s see how long you can hold your breath.” The towel slips from her shoulders. Intentionally.