Chapter 13: Two Fobs

The tender hit the Pier Nine landing so hard that I fell against the rail.

Miles was off the boat before the engine died.

The sheds along the water were burning, and the orange light ran across the harbor and lit every hull in the yard.

A firefighter stepped in front of him at the gate and put a hand flat on his chest.

"Sir, you can't go in."

"That's my yard."

"I know, sir. Stay behind the line."

Miles stopped.

He stood with his hands open at his sides and watched the roof of the long shed fold in on itself.

I stood next to him in his sweatshirt and wet leggings, with my shoes in my hand, and I didn't say anything.

There was nothing to say that would help him.

I took his hand instead.

He looked down at our fingers, and then he held on hard enough to hurt.

The half-built sloop on the main slip burned for another hour.

When its mast went over, he made a sound I had never heard from a person, and I put my arm around his waist and he leaned into me for a moment.

Then he straightened up and asked the nearest firefighter how many boats were inside.

Four, the man said. Two were customers' boats.

"I'll call the owners myself," Miles said.

By dawn the fire was out and the yard smelled of wet ash and scorched fiberglass.

Miles sat on an overturned bucket with his elbows on his knees.

"You counted," he said, not looking up.

"Counted what?"

"The rules. Last night you broke the second one six times."

Keep reading free with an account. Start She Catfished Him With My Face, So This Time He Is Mine from Chapter 1, then sign up free to read the rest of this chapter.