I rub it as Folk yanks his helmet off and comes to where I stand at the harbour wall.
Malone melts away—I lose track of him the way I have Skylar. The other King heads for where Mal’s cornered the harbour-master, and?—
I don’t know.
I don’t know anything except that Sol is gone and he might not ever come back.
Oscar.
Fuck.
“Easy.” Folk takes my arm and guides me a little way along the wall. “What do we know?”
I tell him.
He listens, watching the ocean the same way Sol does as more Kings roll up. River O’Brian and the brawny man I know to be his husband.
Folk glances at the sky.
“Chopper’s grounded,” I say before he can. “They’ve got no pilots mad enough.”
“They don’t know the right pilots then?—”
River’s husband calls Folk’s name.
Folk breaks away to talk to him. To move to River and place calming hands on his shoulders and I remember how close Oscar is to this faction of the Rebel Kings. That he lives in River’s house—a man Aras calls uncle too.
Aras.
Fuck.Fuck.
I tear off the coat Skylar’s forced on me and let the rain soak my clothes and pelt my skin. Listen hard to the thunder and wind as if I’ll hear Sol calling me through the storm. As if I’ll feel him. But there’s nothing in my heart but love and fear, so much fear, and I can’t endure it long.
“Jack?”
I open my eyes. Sev is right there, as windswept and soaked as every soul who’s spilled out onto Porth Ewan’s quay. Every soul who’s made the uphill trek from Porth Luck—and it’s not a small number. As I retune to this fuckawful reality, I see every fisherman who hasn’t launched their vessel to scour the sea for their missing brethren, and it should warm my heart. But I’m beyond warmth, even at the news Sev has brought me.
“They found theMerry Anne. She’s coming in.”
TheMerry Anne. The other boat not in the harbour. But she’d sailed in the opposite direction to theSironaand the AIS hadn’t lost her. As glad as I am her crew are okay, it doesn’t fucking mean much.
“My mum’s here.” Sev moves closer. “Some old dear took her into the Sea Bell.”
“Good for her.”
Sev nods, absorbing the flat hostility lacing my tone. Acknowledging the harsh truth that Sol doesn’t care enough about money for himself to sail on Christmas Day. That he did it for his mam and his dad and I swear to god if Dav shows his face I’ll thump him into next week.
He won’t. The Kings took him away, remember?
And they built the lifeboat base too—a thought that’s already occurred to me, but I cling to the repetition, knowing it matters. That it could be what stands between Sol and Oscar and whatever fate the ocean is trying to force on them tonight.
Sev falls quiet, though he’s not still. He’s agitated and pacing, smoking too much, needing his big brother to tell him to stop. Needing me to step up the way Sol always has for Mal.
It’s not hard. I love Sev, sharp edges and all. And I don’t want him to die of lung cancer before Sol makes it home.
I pluck the cigarette box from his busy hands and fire it into a nearby bin. “No more smokes till she comes in.”
TheSirona. Because shewillcome in. She has to. The earth doesn’t sit right without Sol. For me. For Mal and Skylar as they hover tensely a few feet away. For Sev as he drives the heels of his hands into his eye sockets.