Page 142 of Love Overboard
My chest tightened, but before I could think too much on it, Palmer appeared on the deck, his expression tight.
“Hey. I just spotted a vessel drifting.” He pointed off the starboard side. “Pretty sure they pulled anchor. They’re coming toward us.” He picked up his radio and barked into it, my skin prickled. A drifting vessel could cause a big bill for our owners — or worse, an injury for one of us on board. “Captain, this is Palmer on the bow. We’ve got a vessel adrift. Heading our way.”
“Good eye. I’ll try to radio them now. Grab as many fenders as you can and prepare for a collision,” Captain said back, his voice calm and even despite the possible disaster.
And that’s when I heard it.
A splash.
Distant, but distinct.
Every nerve in my body froze.
All the voices from the guests and the radio muted as I turned and ran for the swim platform, scanning wildly. My eyesight was twenty-twenty, but that didn’t mean shit now that the sun had set. I peered through the dusky night, and by some sort of miracle, I saw her.
Maria was in the water.
“Oh, God.” Panic sliced through me, and when I turned, I realized Captain had ordered the anchor up. Cameron was already working on it, probably so Captain could maneuver around the drifting vessel Palmer had spotted.
But if we started moving, we’d lose Maria. The wind was up, which meant the swell was, too.
No one had noticed — not the guests, not the producers, not a single member of our crew, who were all pulled in other directions handling chaos.
And Maria was drifting. Head dipping.
I didn’t have time to wait for someone else to help me.
“Guest in the water!” I screamed, and then picked up my radio. “Man overboard! Man overboard!”
I barely got the words out before my shoes were off, radio dropped, mic stripped. I somehow remembered my training enough to throw the life preserver in; though I knew even as I did it that it would be pointless with the swell carrying her so quickly.
And then I dove in.
The world was muffled for the brief moment I was underwater, and then I emerged to the sounds of screaming from the boat and screaming from Maria, who was at least twenty meters away from me. I swam as hard as I could, thankful for the years of lessons I took and the rigorous training I went through before I ever worked on a boat.
Every time you trained for a situation like this, you prayed it would never happen. For many, it never would.
I didn’t have such luck.
Saltwater slapped against my face as I struggled to time my breath with the waves I was fighting against. My muscles screamed, the current strong, the light fading more and more as we rotated farther from the sun.
All I could do was keep my focus on Maria. She did her best to swim toward me while I swam toward her. It was easier for me, the waves carrying me out, but they tried to do the same to her. She fought hard.
And then she disappeared beneath the water.
My adrenaline spiked, legs kicking harder, arms swinging. I dove when I thought I was close to her, the saltwater stinging my eyes as I opened them underwater and searched for her.
She was kicking toward the surface, and I swam with all my might until I reached her.
The moment my hand reached her, hope trickled in.
We both emerged, just in time for another swell to cover us. But we spit the water out, and Maria was gasping, clinging to me, threatening to sink us both if she didn’t calm down.
I looped an arm around her chest and kicked hard for the boat. “You’re okay,” I told her, not even sure she could hear me. “I’ve got you.”
The tender reached us just as my arms began to give out.
I heard the low whir of the motor over the crashing waves and nearly sobbed in relief when I spotted Palmer at the helm,eyes wide and frantic as the boat bounced toward us. Behind him, Eli crouched at the bow, arms braced and ready.
