Full Steam Ahead (Sea Swept #1) (20 page)

A few tears run down my cheeks, refusing to be held back any longer.
 
I run up the ramp and into the boat, then squint through my tears at the deck map by the elevators until I figure out where the gym is. A couple other passengers get on and off, but I stare straight ahead, and they thankfully stay too wrapped up in their own conversations to notice me wiping my eyes.

The ship’s gym, with floor-to-ceiling glass walls so exercisers can revel in the ocean view, is deserted except for a guy lifting weights, and Yasmin, who’s stretching beside a treadmill. She straightens when she spots me come in.

“Georgia?” Her dark eyes run over my expression, and for once I don’t try to hide how wrecked I am. “What’s wrong?”
 

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out; I only stand there trembling. Yasmin glances at the weights guy, then takes my shoulders and leads into a room off the side. It looks like they hold classes here, because balance balls fill one corner, while yoga mats are stacked in another. Yasmin rolls out a couple of mats for us, then grabs a clean hand towel from a stack on a table. We sit down against the mirrored wall.
 

“What happened, sweetie?” she asks.

“Jace and me.” I bite my lip to stem the tears. I don’t know if I can get through this without sobbing. “I think we’re over.”
 

“What?” Fury flashes across her face. “I’m going to cut his balls off with a—”

“No,” I interrupt. I lean my head back against the hard glass and gulp down air. “It’s my fault. There’s something awful that’s going on, something I haven’t told you, or anyone.”

Yasmin hesitates, then says, “I know.”

My head jerks up. “You
know
?”

“Not what exactly it is, but …” The anger recedes from her eyes, replaced with worry. “I’ve known something must be bothering you. You haven’t been able to keep food down for months. But you didn’t seem to want to talk about it, and with all of my psychology classes, one thing I’ve learned is to respect boundaries. I didn’t want you to stop talking to me completely if I pushed, so I figured you’d tell me what was going on when you were ready.”

I can only stare, stunned. I thought I had gotten so good at keeping my turmoil and despair under wraps. But Yasmin has been trying to be there for me in her own way—and I didn’t even realize it. I remember how annoyed I’ve been whenever she tried to make me eat something over the past few months.

“I was so clueless,” I say, cringing. “Are you mad for lying to you?”
 

“Of course I’m not mad at you.” Yasmin lets out a sigh. “I’m mad that I couldn’t seem to help you, and that I made myself too busy to try this year. But you’re one of my best friends, and whatever you need, I’m there for you.”

“You’re too good for me.” My voice is choked up. Yasmin catches my gaze.

“That’s not true. If Jace can’t handle the fact that everyone has stuff they don’t want to share, then he’s an asshole.”

“No, it’s not like that. It’s … he’s different than I thought, than we thought. He told me all about his family, his dad being in jail, and—“

“Wait, what? His dad’s in jail?” Yasmin’s whispering, but her eyes are wide. “I totally thought that was a rumor.”
 

I mentally curse myself. “He told me that in confidence; I don’t think anyone else knows. Please, don’t tell anyone, okay?”

“I won’t, I promise,” she says, and I relax a little.
 

“Anyway, the point is that he told me all this stuff about him, and I … couldn’t tell him this big thing about me. So he’s really hurt, and thinks that I don’t really trust him.”

Yasmin rubs my shoulders. “You and Jace … it’s more than a fling for you, huh?”

“Yeah,” I say, almost a sob. Haltingly, I tell her everything that happened between Jace and me since the start of the trip. I don’t go into detail about what we did between the sheets, obviously, but I finish up by explaining how he asked me straight up to trust him, and I failed.

I cry a little, almost literally on Yasmin’s shoulder, and she passes me the hand towel to mop up my tears. Even though my eyes are swollen and my nose is blocked and I must look awful, there’s a lightness in my chest, because just knowing I’m not alone is huge. It’s something I hadn’t realized I needed until I had it—and lost it—with Jace.

We sit there a while, until finally I can raise my head and dry my eyes. Yasmin regards me with quiet sympathy.
 

“Do you want to talk about it now?” she says. “Not Jace—the big thing, whatever it is.”

I shake my head. “I can’t. If I do, I’ll probably throw up and I’m so tired of throwing up everything I eat.”

“It’s okay. If you don’t want to talk about it, I’m still here for you, G.” My eyes fill with tears again, and Yasmin makes me look at her. “Are you in legal trouble or something? Because my dad’s best friend is a lawyer, and I’m not above throwing a tantrum to get you some free counsel.” She gives me a mock-solemn look. “And you know I can throw some epic tantrums when I want to.”

That makes me laugh a little. I’m about to tell her that I’ll be okay, that I don’t need a lawyer—but that’s the thing. I’m not okay, and maybe I
do
need a lawyer. If I wind up not being able to pay my blackmailer … maybe it’s time for me to stop pretending, and start allowing people to help me.

“I might need to take you up on that,” I say, then stop.
 

It’s habit, to hide my problems, but keeping everything bottled up is killing me. I realize I should’ve told Jace the truth earlier, and left it up to him to decide whether he could be with me or not. Now I’ve burned that bridge—I was so afraid of losing him that I wrecked whatever we could have been anyway, with my secrets. But I won’t let them destroy me.
 

Jace had to pretend he was stone to get through his childhood. If he can survive that, I can be strong too. I can be strong enough to trust.

“I have to tell you something,” I’m finally able to whisper.
 

“I’m here. Right here.” Yasmin waits quietly, patiently. How did I wind up with a friend like her?
 

Taking a deep breath, I start at the beginning.

Chapter 21

Jace

I am going to have to watch out for Yasmin, because she’s got her hand on a butter knife.

The ship is docked at the private island for the night, and though there’s a bonfire party on the beach, tonight is a dressy night in the dining room. There are only two “Formal Nights” during the trip, and the majority of the Kappa girls decided that they weren’t wasting the chance to wear their New Year’s Eve attire again. Most of my frat brothers chose to pass on the formal wear and chill at the beach barbecue, where we’ll all meet up later, but I wanted a nice steak after the day I’ve had.

And honestly, I thought Georgia wouldn’t be here. After I threw on my suit and abandoned the room I figured she’d hole up there to avoid me for the evening, but at the last moment before our dining slot started, she turned up in her ice blue dress with Yasmin and Parker.
 

They aren’t at my table, thankfully, but at the one next to mine. Yasmin keeps giving me the stink-eye, so Georgia must have told her about our fight. Wonderful. I decide to flag down a waiter and see if I can get my dinner delivered to my room.

“Hey Jace! Are these seats taken?” says Samantha, who sits down next to me before I can say anything. She waves a couple of her Kappa sisters over to my table, and we’re joined by a couple of Alpha guys too. Guess I’m not the only one who couldn’t resist the call of a good steak.
 

“Nah, go ahead,” I hear myself say. My hope for a quiet night is sinking like the Titanic. I’m hyper-aware of Georgia sitting only a few feet away, and tell myself to ignore her, but every time she moves, I hear her dress rustle, and my ears strain to hear her voice.

We all order, and the waiters bring our drinks. I down half my beer in one gulp as Samantha sips at a glass of the house red wine.
 

“I’m so happy we’re finally getting some time to hang out,” she says brightly. She’s been annoyed with me the last couple of days because I was with Georgia, but now she blasts me with a megawatt smile. “So what did you do this afternoon? I didn’t see you kayaking or parasailing.”
 

“Hung out by the beach mostly.” Bared my heart to a girl who couldn’t do the same. Samantha chatters about the different sorts of fish she saw while snorkeling, and I listen to be polite. As she talks, leaning in close to me, she makes sure to “accidentally” brush her chest against my arm. Twice.

The salad course arrives, and I try to talk to Dan, who’s on my other side, but Samantha keeps bringing my attention back to her.

I’m not even sure what Samantha sees in me. Maybe it’s that despite my reputation, I’m resistant to her charms. Samantha’s the kind of girl who hates that. She’s pretty, and I’m sure most of my frat brothers would gladly take my place. But Samantha and her friends thrive on drama and gossip and all of that stuff I avoid like the plague. She’s not the kind of person I’d ever trust.
 

Unlike Georgia. The thought flits into my mind before I can stop it. I glance over Samantha’s shoulder at Georgia. Her back is tense as she picks at the salad course. She’s eating, at least. I wonder if she’ll keep it down. Then I tell myself it’s not my problem, not anymore.

Still, I can’t help noticing how stunning Georgia looks despite the strain in the elegant line of her shoulders. I need to stop thinking about her, to stop worrying about her—so I tell my body to forget her.

It’s not listening.

Neither, unfortunately, is my brain. I try to keep my anger going, but after a few hours to cool down, I’m starting to wonder if I might have overreacted this afternoon. I guess I have some trust issues, because when I think about it, we only started to get to know each other a couple days ago. And there I went, demanding Georgia’s innermost secrets with all the finesse of a police officer, when I know how hard it is for her to share even her silly secrets, like reading zombie books.

It just made me so angry to know that Hunter knows things about Georgia that I don’t. If nothing else, I owe her an apology, but I’m not sure what to say exactly, because Georgia doesn’t seem to feel the same way about me that I do about her, if she can trust Hunter more than me. It stings, I’m not going to lie. It stings bad. I want Georgia, but if she’s not on my page, I’m going to wind up gutted. Maybe our rapid implosion is a blessing in disguise.

I’m trying to convince myself of that when, under the table, I feel a hand on my thigh. I glance at Samantha, who gives me a wink. She’s hot enough to pull off the wink, but it’s wasted on me. Even though I told Georgia we were over, it feels wrong to have another girl’s hand on my leg. I put down my fork, reach under the table, and gently but firmly move her hand back to her own lap.

She pouts a little. “Not in the mood for some fun?”
 

“Look, Samantha.” I pitch my voice low so the rest of the table won’t hear. “You’re sexy as hell, but I’m not in a place to be with anyone right now.”
 

I’m trying to let her down easy, but Samantha seems to hear only the rejection. As soon as I finish, her eyes narrow and her lips form a berry-tinted line of anger, and I know I’m in for it.

“What the hell is your problem, Jace?” she says, loud enough that the lobsters in the fish tank across the dining room probably hear her. “As if I’d ever sleep with you.”

The rest of our table stops eating to stare at us. Next to me, Dan clears his throat and shoots me a grin.
 

“You bothering a lady, Jace?” he drawls, teasing me.
 

“Try the other way around,” I mutter.
 

Samantha scoffs, shooting me the snootiest death glare I’ve ever seen. “Please,” she sneers. “I don’t go for guys with jailbird fathers.”

At first I think I must’ve heard her wrong. But conversation dies at the nearby tables, and Georgia’s head whips around toward me.
 

“Excuse me?” I say. My voice is calm, but inside I’m seething.

“Isn’t your dad in jail?” Samantha says.

“Where did you hear that?”
 

She tosses her hair. “A little bird told me.”

Georgia?
I don’t want to believe it, but it’s the only explanation. I’m so pissed I could spit. I opened my heart to her. My soul. She’s obviously not who I thought she was—she’s no better than Samantha. How could I have ever trusted her?

“Wait, is that true?” asks Quinn, across the table. She looks both horrified and fascinated. “What did your dad do, Jace?”
 

This is why I don’t talk about my family; I don’t want them to be a sideshow, the subject of mean gossip from people whose closest brush with hardship is not getting a good parking spot at the mall. But I also won’t lie, because when it comes down to it, I’m not ashamed of who I am.
 

I toss my napkin down on the remnants of my salad.
 

“Yeah,” I say. “It’s true. And you know what?” I stand and glance at Georgia, who’s staring at me wide-eyed. “Whoever’s been talking about me behind my back can go fuck herself.”

With that extremely classy comment, I stalk out of the dining room. I’d thought the afternoon sucked, but this evening is turning out to be even worse.

I didn’t even get my goddamned steak.

Chapter 22

Georgia

I stare at the table, barely seeing the plate of shrimp linguini a waiter sets before me. I didn’t even notice when they took the salad course away. The fork I’m holding still has spinach leaves skewered on it, but as I listen to everyone chatter about Jace’s dad, I don’t think I can stomach another bite. I put down the utensil with a muted clink.

“I didn’t tell anyone about Jace,” Yasmin whispers. I look up to see her dark earnest eyes. “I swear.”

“I believe you,” I say, because I do. Yasmin doesn’t gossip, not with what she went through with her sister. Once, she confided to me that in middle school a few girls spread a rumor that she was “contagious” with what Sofia had, and she ate lunch for the rest of the year alone in a bathroom. So I know she wouldn’t have told our friends about Jace.