Chapter 21: The Boathouse

I put on my coat over my t-shirt and went down to the water.

The dock boards were cold under my bare feet.

Dominik heard me before he saw me. He turned with the lantern in his hand and went completely still.

"I'm not coming closer," he said. "I know the rule."

"I'm the one who's allowed to speak first," I said. "So I'm speaking."

"Yes."

I walked the length of the dock and stopped at the boat.

It was small and low, built of pale ash, with a curved prow and a single mast folded along its length.

The varnish still smelled new.

Along the bow, in white paint, a hand had lettered her name: LENA.

"How long?" I asked.

"Since March."

"Before the pills."

"The night after you arrived," he said. "I came down here and I started the keel."

"I thought I was in trouble. I didn't know it would get this bad."

His voice was hoarse. He had not slept in days.

"I meant to give it to you on your birthday," he said.

"I took the tarp off and I couldn't. It looked like a bribe."

"It looks like one now."

"Yes."

"Why are you showing it to me at three in the morning?"

"I'm not." He swallowed. "I'm checking the caulking. I do it every night."

"It's the only thing I know how to do with my hands that doesn't hurt anyone."

I looked at the white letters.

I reached out and laid my palm flat on the hull beside his.

It was smooth and cool. My little finger rested an inch from the edge of his scarred thumb.

He did not move his hand.

"Dominik," I said.

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