Georgie, All Along (48)

“You ought to have asked around. No kids have jumped off this dock in years. Because it’s in shitty condition, which you apparently didn’t notice. You could’ve done your damn wish somewhere safer.”

“Hey!” I say, the only comeback I can think of for his scolding rudeness. I remember the way Calculus Fanning gave that silent reprimand to Olivia yesterday at The Shoreline; it’s clear that Levi and his estranged father have something in common. But before I can dwell too much on the comparison, my interest is piqued in another direction. “You know about the Buzzard’s Neck wishes?”

“I grew up here, too, remember?”

“Georgie?” Bel calls again, and when I look over at her and Harry, I can tell they’ve been watching us with interest.

“Are you all right?” Harry says.

“I’m f—”

“I can take her back to my truck, give her a ride back home,” Levi says, for the first time acknowledging that there are other people here. “If you don’t want a swamp thing in your car.”

I open my mouth to object, but Bel smiles and says, “Really? That would be great, actually.”

“Hey!” I repeat. I give Bel a narrow-eyed look of censure, but she only shrugs, looking apologetic. She is particular about that car.

“Plus she’s bleeding,” Levi adds, annoyed, and for the first time I look down to see a thin line of dark red blood running down my shin.

“You probably caught a nail.” He mutters something I don’t catch about “half-done repairs,” and then says, “Hope you’ve got a tetanus shot.”

“I do,” I snap, but I will definitely have to check on that later.

He reaches forward, his arm brushing against my bare leg as he grabs for something beneath my seat. His skin, even from that fleeting touch, is deliciously warm. I scoot closer to where Hank stands beside me.

Levi hands me a small kit. “First aid in here. Hank, sit.”

“Georgie, you’re really all right?” Bel calls again, and this time, I know she’s looking for me to confirm it—that her shrugging, leave-me-with-Levi nonchalance needs my permission to truly go forward. I look over there, and it’s Bel in a pretty cream-colored maxi dress and Harry in his blue linen button-up, and I do not want to swim over there to them, river-ragged and bleeding, only to get driven in a spotless BMW to the same place Levi is going. I don’t even want to imagine the married-people, poor Georgie looks they’ll give each other the whole way home.

“I’m fine,” I call back, and she promises to drop off my phone and purse later. When she and Harry turn to go, Levi maneuvers his boat toward the dock and stands, giving me a view of those steady legs he mentioned back on that first night we had dinner. When he gets close enough, he leans forward and swipes my Birks off the dock, tossing them back into the boat before pivoting to steer us expertly back out into the cove.

All in all, that was a very impressive display, and my backward, probably-pinwheeling fall into the water now seems all the more clumsy.

I concentrate on cleaning my cut—it’s narrow and shallow, probably not even worth a bandage—and eventually all I can focus on is the heavy silence, the way that we have nothing to say to each other now that I’m not in perceived danger of drowning. He’s probably over there hoping I won’t kiss him again.

Still, I can’t stand it, this quiet.

“So, what did you wish for?” I ask, filling the space between us.

“What?”

“When you did this. When you jumped off Buzzard’s Neck.”

“I didn’t say I did it.”

Right. Too cool for this tradition, probably. Troublemaking, couldn’t-see-where-he-fit Levi, not the type to do what the other kids did.

He shifts on his seat. “I probably would’ve wished for a boat,” he says, voice low. “A canoe or something. I really wanted a boat of my own back then.”

I look up at him, even though he keeps his eyes on the water. “Nice,” I say, my stubborn heart tripping over itself.

“What about you?” It’s a peace offering. His color was high when he first got me into his boat and got to shouting, but it’s evened out now, along with his breath.

“I didn’t get to it,” I say, lifting my arms and miming my clumsy splash. But then I look back down at my shin, concentrating on not showing the disappointment that I’m sure has crept into my expression. All things considered, it’s a lousy omen, failing at Buzzard’s Neck. I couldn’t even think of anything I wanted for the arm-writing exercise.

“I’m sorry,” Levi says.

“About manhandling me into your boat?”

His cheek quirks. “No, about you not getting to do your wish.”

I shrug. “It’s all right. It probably wasn’t a good choice anyway. Bel couldn’t participate.”

He nods and steers us back toward a straightaway. The sun’s brighter out here, the water sparkling and fresh-smelling now. I used to love this about living around here, the way the river had these temperamental facets, the matter of a few feet making a big difference in the water you’d be meeting.

“What brought you out here this early?” I ask him.

His color picks up again.

“Just needed to get out on the water for a bit. Didn’t sleep well.”