For a long time, Luc had hoped that one day he would snap out of it and start being a father again. Then, sophomore year, after Luc had put a fist through a locker—to be fair, he’d been swinging for Drew O’Connell’s head; Drew had been spreading rumors that thirteen-year-old Jasmine had given him a striptease in the Taco Bell parking lot—he’d been forced to see a therapist for six months.
The guy was a total prick—once Luc had even caught him sleeping during a session, and his breath always made the office smell like tuna fish—but one thing Dr. Asswipe had taught him was this: Give up the wish.
His dad would never snap out of it. Give up the wish. His mom wasn’t coming back to life. Give up the wish.
He would always feel alone. Give up the wish.
Luc was on his own if he wanted to find Jas. Damn it. He punched her number into his phone and waited. When it rang and went to voice mail, he hit call end.
There was no way he’d sleep without knowing if Jas was okay. He crumpled the paper in his fist and stormed back to his room. A dark blue varsity soccer sweatshirt hung over a chair, and he yanked it over his head. He jerked the laces of his boots tight and then stood up, pulling a Giants cap down around his shaggy black hair.
Why did she have to go to the Marina at three in the morning? The only people who hung out there at this hour were dealers and addicts.
She had probably gone to see T.J. If she got messed up tonight …
Luc was going to kill him. Luc was going to kill her.
As if his night hadn’t been messed up enough already.
Luc tried Jasmine’s cell again and swore aloud when it went straight to voice mail. Of course. Why should tonight be any different? Jasmine was always full of excuses.
Just like their mother.
Training made it easy to run the four miles to the Marina; he cut through the Presidio and made it in record time. Shoving his hands deeper into the pocket of his hoodie, he headed up to the Marina. Every creeping, creaking noise set him on edge. He could take care of himself in a fight, but he’d be at a huge disadvantage in the dark, between unlit buildings.
Three more blocks down and the buildings thinned out. Across Marina Boulevard, Luc could see lights reflecting off the water. Traffic was nonexistent this time of morning, and he jogged to the entrance of the harbor.
A breeze blew off the ocean, and Luc gulped in a lungful of fresh salty air. The quiet was broken only by the occasional metallic clang of the moorings.
During the day, tourists crowded onto shiny sailboats for gourmet picnic lunches and expensive wine tours of the bay. People packed the boardwalk and the shops along the water’s edge. Kids licked melting ice cream cones while joggers darted between families pushing strollers. Everything was loud and bright and full of excitement. Alive.
He remembered he had taken Jas here when they were kids; a passing carnival had set up camp at the Marina. They’d skateboarded together through the crowds, pissing everybody off, laughing like maniacs. At the shooting gallery, Jas had spun suddenly and aimed the water straight for his hat. It had nearly taken out his eye, but man, it was funny.
It was the first time she’d laughed since their mom left.
So much had changed since that day.
And now, just before dawn, the Marina had changed, too.
This wasn’t the yacht club where Karen’s parents moored. It was darker, more dangerous. His footsteps echoed loudly. Security lights twisted the shadows into spindly, inky fingers. Addicts huddled under the piers. The ones in the throes of a high weren’t too bad. It was the ones coming down, aching for that next fix, who were dangerous. More animal than human. Every time a chain clanged against metal or a boat bumped the pier, Luc’s shoulders tensed.
A thin fog hung over the Marina, curling around the deserted buildings. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his sweatshirt and ducked his head. The air was thick with salt. The Marina was huge. He had no idea how he would find Jas, but he refused to leave before he had.
He caught a glimpse of someone huddled in the doorway darkness near the water. A haggard face looked up at him. A woman. Luc felt his throat go dry. A frantic pulse beat in his temple. When the woman looked up and hissed at him, baring yellowed teeth, she looked almost like a wild animal.
His mother was long dead, but he couldn’t stop imagining her like that.
God, this had been the suckiest night ever.
First Karen, then Jas.
He headed down toward the first slip, scanning the moored boats, all of them bobbing almost imperceptibly in the water. When he reached the end of the pier, the vast bay spread out before him, the stars reflected on its smooth, glassy surface. He looked up by habit, to the northeast sky, until he found Andromeda, partly obscured by low-hanging clouds.
Jas’s favorite constellation gave him a small measure of comfort. He felt closer to her by just having it in his sights.
There were seven long slips, and it took almost two hours to walk up and down each, peering into darkened boats that bobbed on the water. His eyelids felt like sandpaper scratching across his eyeballs, but adrenaline kept his feet moving across the battered wood of the docks.
By the time he got to the last slip, the sky to the east was just starting to lighten at the horizon. At the edge of the last pier, Luc paused and stared into the dark where three sailboats bobbed gently on the surface. He thought he saw a shadow move across the largest boats.
“Jasmine,” he called.
No one answered. He stepped onto the deck of the first boat, the smallest. He grabbed the rail to keep his balance when it gently swayed from side to side because of his weight.
He took several small steps toward the cabin. Thank God the Marina was empty. The last thing he needed was to get busted by the cops for breaking and entering.
A groan pierced the silence, and Luc froze. All thoughts of sleep vanished in a rush of fear.
“Jas.” His voice was swallowed up by the silence. Even the waves seemed to have stopped moving.
A tremendous crack splintered the air. He barely had time to register the mast flying toward his head before he leapt out of the way. Over the railing. Ice-cold water closed over his head, and for a terrifying moment, Luc wasn’t sure which way was up.
Struggling, he kicked his legs as hard as he could, twisting around, desperate to find the surface, choking on the salty water. His clothing turned leaden, sucking him under. His feet hit the rocky bottom, and he shoved hard, bursting to the surface and dragging in a deep breath of air.
Coughing up seawater, he swam toward the pier and used it to guide him toward shore until his feet touched bottom. When he was able to stand in the waist-deep water, he looked back at the boat. The sun peeked over the horizon and chased the mist away, revealing the snapped mast, which had crashed across the deck where he’d stood only moments before.
Christ, I could have been killed. Adrenaline pumped through his veins, clearing his head.
The water glittered like a million diamonds, sparkling in the first stray rays of new daylight. How could it look so peaceful when he’d come within inches of death just moments ago? He stood up, his waterlogged sweatshirt iron-heavy. He took it off and tied it around his waist.
Masts didn’t just snap like that, like toothpicks. The back of his neck prickled. An accident. A stupid wrong-place, wrong-time near disaster. It had to be.
The icy water lapped around his shins and thighs, and he shivered. If he didn’t get out of the water, he’d freeze.
Before he had a chance to turn around, someone slammed into his back, plunging him face-first back under the water. He fought hard, twisting free, using the ground to push himself up and out of the attacker’s grasp.