26
Yachats, Oregon
“Hey, Ross! Where’ve you been? Do you need a tow?” Nathan Grumby yelled.
Ross jolted up into a sitting position. The sudden movement sent a wave of dizziness through his head. He groaned and leaned forward, pulling his legs up so he could rest his forehead against his knees. The familiar sound of a motor shifting gears, the smell of diesel, and the uneven rocking told him that he was on a boat.
He lifted his head when he heard someone’s boots hitting the deck. Lifting a trembling hand, he wiped his face. He was surprised when he felt dampness on his cheeks that had nothing to do with the mist surrounding them.
“You look like s**t. What’d you do? Slip or get drunk?” Hannibal Grumby said, holding out a hand.
Ross reached up and gripped Hannibal’s beefy palm. He didn’
