Chapter 12: On His Knees

Orla's POV

The bang woke me, and the bed beside me was empty.

Eli stood at the window in his boots with his back to me.

Every line of him was rigid.

"What was that?"

"A boat hitting the pier," he said. "Stay here."

"Eli."

"Please."

He had never said that to me before.

I pulled on my jeans and his sweater, and I was on the stairs before he could stop me.

The sky was pale pink, and the harbor was just waking.

Two fishermen had come out onto the slip to see what had hit the dock.

A third was standing on the deck of his trawler with a mug.

At the end of the pier a man was getting up off his knee.

His leather jacket was wet through, and his black hair stuck to his forehead.

His face was white, and his eyes were enormous.

He saw me, and his whole body let go.

"Orla."

"Rocco."

He crossed the planks at a run and stopped a step away with his hands open.

"I came by boat," he said. "I paid a man four thousand dollars. I haven't been on the water since I was fourteen. I threw up twice."

"Why?"

"The driver wouldn't take me. My father took my keys. Nobody would let me come."

"Why did you come?"

"Because you're here."

He went down on both knees on the wet pier.

It was a loud sound, bone on wood.

The fishermen on the slip stopped talking.

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