Dirty Rowdy Thing (Wild Seasons, #2)(72)

Colton spends the afternoon on the phone with the producers scheduling the repairs while I help Levi check the pulleys for wear. Dad is checking the nets and commenting on each and every repair, when I hear a familiar voice.

“Permission to board, Captain Wanker.”

I look over the side to see Oliver, smiling up at me.

“Holy shit,” I say. I wave him up and around the boat, watching as he climbs on board. “What the hell are you doing here?” My first reaction is joy, elation at seeing my friend, that he came all this way to see me.

A second, more physical emotion is fear. I came and left without giving him any reason, and never bothered to check in once I arrived back home. And now I’ve made a pretty monumental decision about our family business and still haven’t told my two best friends anything. “Is something wrong?

Ansel? Harlow?”

He’s already shaking his head. “They’re fine,” he says. “I just wanted to talk to you.” He pulls me into a hug before stepping back, taking a minute to look around. “Never thought I’d step foot on one of these again,” he says. “Smells like f*cking fish.”

“Well, I’ll be damned.”

We both turn to see a grinning Colton making his way toward us.

“Colton,” Oliver says, shaking my brother’s hand. Oliver glances from me to Colton and back again. “Looks like you’re going to be as ugly as this one here, you poor bastard. How are you?”

“Good. Great, actually. Did you hear about the show?”

Fuck.

“The . . . show.”

“Yeah, the Adventure Channel show,” Colton barrels on obliviously. “Two f*cking seasons, Olls.

Can you believe—”

“Colt,” I interrupt him, holding up a hand. “I was hoping to tell Oliver about this myself.”

Oliver turns his smile on me and I’ve known him long enough to know that this is not an I’m-so-happy-for-you smile. This is the condescending smile he gives to someone who confuses Star Trek with Buck Rogers, or doesn’t understand the dynamic behind the Wolverine-Jean Grey-Cyclops love triangle. “Good plan, Finn. I like hearing things directly from the source.”

I reach up to scratch the back of my neck, waiting while Colton and Oliver catch up. I only tune back in when I hear Colton ask how long he’ll be here.

“Heading back tomorrow morning.”

Colton groans. “Why such a short trip? We could use your help next week when the mechanics descend and Finn is banned from the boats.”

“Very funny.”

“Listen, I gotta get back to the engine room; make time for a beer tonight, yeah?” Colton asks, walking backward.

Oliver nods. “Definitely.”

“Cool. Good to see you, man, we’ll talk tonight.”

We watch Colton round the corner and disappear out of sight. Oliver is the first to speak. “I like your brothers,” he says.

“They’re good guys. Really held things together while I was gone.”

“You know who I don’t like right now?”

“Ansel?” I guess.

He laughs. “Walk with me, Finn.”

Oliver steps back onto the dock and after a moment of hesitation when I wonder whether I could actually swim back to my house, I follow. On the surface, Oliver is about as laid-back as anyone I’ve ever met. He’s one of those people who keeps everything in, letting their emotions out in small, measured pieces. The fact that he flew up here to check on me without even knowing about the show . . . I think I’m in for a world of hurt.

Despite the sun high overhead, there’s a distinct bite to the air. The wind whips through the boats and it gets even chillier the farther we walk. A ship’s horn cuts through the silence and Oliver turns to me .

“I’m assuming this whole show thing has something to do with why you left? And with what was bothering you the entire time?”

I pull my cap off and run a hand through my hair. “Harlow tell you anything?” There’s a part of me that almost wishes she had. If Harlow’s already told him then there’s no need for me to, no reason to spill my guts out and onto the dock.

I am not that lucky.

“No, actually she said it was your story to tell. And I agree.”

The sound of the water, small waves breaking against the base of the pier carry up to us, amplifying my silence. I should have told him. I should have told Ansel.

“Finn, I know you’re not a big sharer. I get that. Hell, after spending time with chatterbox Ansel, I even appreciate it at times. But I love you, you’re my best mate and I wouldn’t have given you so bloody many chances to confide in me if I didn’t actually care what was happening in your life. Talk to me.”

“I don’t like discussing things until I know what I’m going to do.”

“I get that,” Oliver says, nodding. “But seeing as how I came up here to make sure you were okay, and I find out just now from your brother that you’ve already signed on to do a television show . . .”

He waves his hand forward, indicating he doesn’t really need to finish making his point.

I point to a bench at the end of the dock, and we walk there in stiff silence. We sit down, and Oliver stretches his arms across the back of the bench as I lean forward, elbows on my knees, staring down.