Page 127 of Love Overboard
Lovely.
Palmer waited for Gisella, trying to usher her out of the room with a hand at the small of her back. But she jerked away from him, muttering something under her breath with a glare that had Palmer’s lips flattening as he chased after her.
Captain Gary stayed behind, the tension left in the room once it was just the three of us so thick I could have choked on it.
He looked at us, expression unreadable. His voice, when it came, was low and cold.
“You two. Get yourselves together and meet me in the bridge. Ten minutes.”
He turned without another word, and I dropped my head into my hands.
My ribs ached with the struggle of my lungs trying to fill, my chest on fire like I was having a heart attack. My hands and feet went numb. My vision darkened at the edges.
Distantly, I was aware that Finn was trying to talk to me, that his hands were framing my face, his concerned eyes searching mine.
But his voice was muted, muffled by the ringing in my ears and the thrumming of my racing heart.
There was movement behind him, a camera duo adjusting to better see my face.
And that was it.
Like a caged animal who realized someone had forgotten to latch the door, I threw the covers off me, shoved Finn away, threw on my pajamas, and bolted.
I didn’t know where I was going — just that I had to move.
I rushed through the hall, bare feet slapping against the stairs as I flew down them toward the crew quarters. I nearly ran into Palmer and Gisella on the way down. I heard Gisella scoff, heard someone call my name — maybe Finn, maybe Leah, maybe a producer — but I didn’t stop. Didn’t look back.
I took the corner too fast and slammed into a wall. Pain bloomed in my shoulder, but I kept going, sucking in oxygen like I was drowning and clinging to each sip of air I could catch when a wave receded. My cabin door was cracked open, and I all but dove inside, slamming it behind me and twisting the lock with shaking fingers.
Then I collapsed onto the bed, gasping.
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
Oh my God.
It’s over.
It’s all over.
Everything I’d worked for. Everything I’d dreamed of. Everything I’d sacrificed — all gone.
Because I’d let myself get lost in a moment of desire.
I cringed at the reality, shame washing over me at the same time I felt fists beating on my chest from the inside. I almost heard the voice screaming over the rattling of my breath, a distant cry that I shouldn’t be ashamed, that I loved Finn and what happened between us wasn’t wrong.
But I snuffed out that voice with a cold splash of reality.
I’d lost the respect of my crew. I’d lost their friendship. My third stew couldn’t even look at me, and I couldn’t blame her. I’d hurt her. Betrayed her. Betrayed them all for something selfish and stupid.
You don’t believe that. What you have with Finn isn’t stupid.
Again, I ignored that voice.
It was easier to latch onto the panic slowly taking me under. And when I remembered everything that had just happened was on camera, I started sinking faster.
A knock came at the door, followed by a muffled voice. “Ember? We’d love to get a quick interview while emotions are still fresh.”
