Page 13 of Just My Style
“Maybe we should turn around,” I suggest.
Victor glances back at me, a look of surprise on his face, as if he’s forgotten that I’m here. “Okay,” he agrees, digging into the water with his paddle and executing a perfect turn. I do the same, though less gracefully, and we head back toward my rental house.
My paddle knocks against something, and I realize it’s scraping along the ground. “It’s almost low tide!”
Victor’s eyes widen. “Does your dock have a kayak launch?”
I haven’t spent much time at the dock at my rental property, but I remember hearing Tuck mention the kayak launch as he was showing me around the property.
“It does.”
“Then that’s our destination,” Victor says. “I don’t think we’ll have time to get all the way back to where we put the boats in the water.”
We scramble to paddle as quickly as possible, but it’s getting harder and harder as the paddles scrape the bottom of the channel. Within a few more minutes, we’re sitting in just a few inches of water. It’s nearly impossible to move now that we can’t paddle.
Victor swears under his breath. “Just perfect.”
“Are we stuck?” I ask, my voice taking on a panicked edge. We’re still in the wildlife refuge area, not a house in sight
“Yep,” Victor confirms. “Hold out your paddle. I’ll see if I can pull your boat closer to mine.”
I hold out my paddle and he grips the end, pulling me closer before the water disappears. Within minutes, we’re surrounded by nothing but mud and mussel beds.
“It’s okay,” he says calmly. “We’re just not going anywhere for a while.”
“For how long?” I ask.
“At least six hours, I’d guess.”
I gulp. “Six hours? The sun will set in one hour.”
“We’ll be okay,” he promises. “We’re not afraid of the dark, are we?”
Maybe a little… “Are there alligators?”
“I doubt they’d be hanging out in the mud,” he assures me.
“We’re not far from the bank. Maybe we could just walk back to my place?”
Victor shakes his head. “Someone tried that last year. He got stuck in the mud and drowned when the tide came back.”
He rests his hand, palm up, on the side of my kayak. “It’d make me feel better if you’d hold my hand.”
I glance at his face, and he’s sporting a shy smile. Returning his smile, I entwine my fingers with his. His skin is soft and warm, and the contact makes me feel safe and protected.
“It’s going to get really dark,” I say.
“We’ll stargaze together. It’ll be romantic.”
We chat for a while before falling into amiable silence. I stare at his profile in the setting sun. I realize that Margo was right. He’s everything she said he was—and so much more.
“I’m sorry that Jared’s not giving you a chance to be his father,” I say quietly, squeezing his hand.
“I wish…” His voice trails off.
“What?” I ask.
“I wish I’d met him when he was still a kid. He may have needed me then. I think that’s the problem. He’s all grown up. He simply doesn’t need me now.”