23
Putting Humpty Together Again
I need to work on my landings.
No one says a word when I slide the boat sideways into Revelation Cove’s outer dock. The damage is minimal, and I didn’t hit Miss Lily or the other plane parked down the way, but still.
The Coast Guard is indeed there—two vessels with a helicopter hovering overhead, waiting for us so they can scoop Ryan’s limp, unconscious form off the boat’s deck, now slippery with his blood.
So much blood.
I don’t have time to say goodbye or even kiss his forehead before he’s on a stretcher, medics surrounding him like lions on a bloodied, weak prey, starting IVs and cutting away the makeshift denim bandaging on his upper arm, strapping oxygen around his face, injecting, listening, palpating, checking pupils.
Huge tears spill down Mis
