Seventeen
After we had both showered, I tried to get Jonas to take a nap, but he insisted on sticking to the schedule, which meant it was my nap time.
I had lain in bed, still a bit high on the adrenaline rush. My boat had been sinking. And I’d rescued it. And it hadn’t been a chaotic, loud mess. I thought back to all the other times when something had gone dangerously wrong out at sea on Welina: a broken line, a sail unfurling and beating in the wind, squalls rolling through that tripled the wind speed in a matter of minutes. Those memories were full of yelling and crying.
Instead I was lying in my cabin, a scary moment behind me, and I’d come out the other end better for it.
I did, eventually, drift into a nap. When I woke up, I found Jonas at the helm, slightly groggy but awake. I m
