Jason swallowed hard. “Are we?”
Plaintive, wistful, frightened: that voice hit Colby’s heart like a metaphorical pirate’s cutlass-point. “We’re testing safety-nets,” he offered. “They held.”
“Colby,” Jill said, “you shouldn’t’ve needed to. I could’ve found you a double. Made a different call. I’m sorry.”
“Oh, Jill, no.” He kept the arm around Jason; he stretched the other hand out to catch Jill’s, and held them both. “I told you I could do it. I can; it was fine until it wasn’t. We’re in this together, aren’t we? Storms and pirates and Leo’s tequila hangovers and that time Andy grew the moustache. We can weather anything.”
A hint of a smile tiptoed in; Jill shook her head at him, but with appreciation of the effort. “It was a pretty terrible moustache.”
“Hey,” said Andy, from somewher
