It’s no surprise she turns me down; she’s probably better at fishing than I am, anyway. And that’s kind of hot.
Forty-five minutes, maybe an hour, pass before the shark starts getting as tired as Harper. In the shade of the Brewers cap, she’s fighting not to cry, and part of me wants to take the pole away to give her a break, but she’s too stubborn for that. One step forward, two steps back, she slowly reels it in. The drag zings out each time the shark thrashes against her, trying to throw the hook, and she struggles to gain it back.
Then—like in the last second of an arm wrestling match where the weaker of the two gives up—the shark just stops fighting. Harper makes up a yard, then two, then ten.
“Looks like it’s done,” Gary says. “But beware, it may start thrashing again when it gets to the boat.”
At first the shark is only a dark shadow deep in the water and we can’t tell what it is, but as it gets closer to the surface we can see the distinct shape of a hammerhead. And it’s a monster.
“Jesus,” Kevlar breathes. “How are we going to get that thing on the boat?”
“That fish is ten, possibly twelve feet long, son,” Gary says. “It’s not coming on this boat.” He turns to Harper. “Keep reeling.”
The hammerhead breaks the surface and goes nuts, thrashing and flailing, churning up the water around it. I look back at Harper and grin. “You’ve got him.” The corners of her mouth curl up a little, but it’s hard to tell if she’s smiling or grimacing as she tries to beat the last bit of fight the shark has left. Finally, he surrenders and lies over on his side, just floating there. Spent. One end of his ugly head sticks up out of the water, his beady black eye looking almost bewildered. Like he’s wondering what the hell just happened.
Kevlar leans over the side and touches the shark. “That is so fucking cool.”
“If you want a picture, now is the time,” Gary says. “And make it quick because we need to let it go.”
Moss takes the rod from Harper so I can snap a picture with the camera on my phone. Gary hands her a pair of clippers to cut the wire leader that will set the hammerhead free. There’s no way to pull the hook out from between those razor teeth. It will stay there until it rusts away. “Do you want to name it? Some people like to do that.”
“No, that’s okay.” Harper snips the leader and the shark slowly swims away, his dorsal fin sinking below the water before the fish disappears completely.
“That was awesome.” I move beside her and slip my arm around her waist. Her whole body is quivering with exhaustion as she leans into me, closing her eyes. I kiss her forehead and it’s damp with sweat.
After fishing a couple more hours—Harper went into the cabin and slept the whole time—we drop Kevlar and Moss at their hotel, then drive up the island to her house.
“I’ll give you the grand tour,” she says as I follow her onto the front porch. “It won’t take long, since you can stand in the living room and see everything.”
Harper throws open the door and stops in her tracks. I crash into her from behind, grabbing her around the waist to keep from knocking her down. On the couch, just over her shoulder, Harper’s dad and a dark-haired woman are making out. They jump apart, fumbling with their tangled clothes. Her lip gloss is smeared at the side of his mouth and they look so… busted.
“Okay, this is embarrassing,” her dad says as they stand. They’re holding hands. “Harper, this is Alison Redding. Alison, this is Harper and her friend Travis.”
“Not exactly how I envisioned this moment.” Alison’s smile is bright, genuine, as she reaches out to Harper, who is immobile within the circle of my arm. I’m not sure she’s even breathing. “But it’s nice to finally meet you.”
Harper doesn’t say anything. She breaks away from me and goes into her room, slamming the door. Leaving me holding the big bag of awkward.
Her dad blows out a breath and scratches the back of his head. “I should go talk to her.”
“It would probably be better if you didn’t,” I say. “Let me.”
“I don’t think…” He glances at her door, as if I’d try something with his daughter right now, then he sighs. “Yeah, okay.”
I tap on Harper’s door. “Hey, it’s me.”
Her face appears in the open crack, her eyes damp.
“Can I come in?”
She opens the door wider and I’m in her bright yellow room, standing beside her bed. I have to admit, my preferred course of action would be to drag her beneath the blankets and do things that would take her mind off her dad. Except that’s not what she wants right now. And considering everything I’ve put her through, it won’t kill me to shut up and listen.
“When he told me she was thinking about coming to visit, I thought that meant they were, you know, talking about a future visit.” Harper drops down on her bed. “I didn’t think it meant now, like… that.”
I sit beside her and look around the room. Hanging on the walls are brightly colored paintings of cartoon-like sea creatures. Red turtles. Purple seahorses. Green goldfish. Orange dolphins. They’re kind of cool. I wonder if Harper’s mom painted them. “Who is she?”
“They were engaged.” She rubs her eyes on the back of her hand. I offer her the sleeve of my fish-scented T-shirt and she turns her face into my shoulder. “He broke it off when he met my mom.”
I suck at this. Being a guy is way less complicated sometimes. “Maybe, um, you should talk to him?”
“No. I’m not ready.” She wipes her eyes on my sleeve. “Let’s just stick to our plans.”
“Okay.”
She opens her bottom dresser drawer and hands me a red towel. “There’s a shower out back with soap and shampoo. Be sure to close the curtain all the way or the old woman across the canal will call the sheriff.”
“Sounds exciting.”
I’m reaching for the doorknob when she crosses the small room and pins me against the door, kissing me the way she did at the Waffle House this morning. Damn.
We’re both a little breathless when she pulls away.
“Thank you, Travis.”
Her dad and Alison are waiting at the kitchen table as I pass through, the red towel strategically placed to hide wood. He nearly knocks the chair over as he stands up. I can’t even imagine a dad who cares the way Harper’s does. “Is she okay?”
“She’s mostly confused.”
“I was kind of hoping Harper would join us for sushi,” he says. “So she can get to know Alison.”
“I wouldn’t.” I don’t tell him the image of them making out is probably still burned onto her retinas. “She thought this was a theoretical someday event. She needs some time to wrap her head around it.”
“Thanks, Travis.” He shakes my hand. “You’re a good man.”
I doubt he’d say that if he knew I was on my way to take a cold shower.
Chapter 10
A mountain of broken crab legs, empty oyster shells, and peeled-away shrimp skins rises up in the middle of a table on the hotel balcony overlooking the Gulf. We’ve eaten a ton of seafood we had delivered from Pincher’s Crab Shack, and if the number of Corona bottles with squeezed-up limes at the bottom is any indication, we’ve killed a case of beer. We’re all a little sunburned and more than a little drunk. I wonder why Kevlar has not passed out yet.
“The night is young and downstairs is a bar full of young, nubile women.” He comes out of the bathroom wearing a plaid cowboy shirt and jeans so new I wonder if the tags are still attached.
“Look at you,” I say. “Going to the rodeo there, Kenneth?”
“Damn straight.” He grins. “Gonna find me a woman, grab on, and—” He bucks his hips like he’s riding a bull and waves his cowboy hat in the air. “Woo-hoo!”
Moss laughs. “My money says you don’t last the full eight seconds.”
I hit him with a fist bump.
“Fuck you guys,” Kevlar says. “Tonight’s the night. I can feel it. Who’s in?” I glance at Harper, and he groans. “Solo, I never expected these words to ever come out of my mouth, but you, my friend, are whipped.”
I point my beer bottle at him, squinting one eye as if I’m aiming. “Don’t make me come over there and kick your ass.”