Olivia crouched on Salty Mist’s stern. “Patrick, I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “I’m really, really, really...” “Did you swim over?” I asked, staring at him. “The water must be freezing.” His face was stiff with anger: his mouth a thin line, his eyes cold, his brows low. “Get in the dinghy, Olivia. What the hell are you two playing at?” “Just listen,” I said. “We can explain...” “I woke up to take a leak, decided to go outside for a smoke and saw the dinghy gone.” He pushed his wet hair off his face. “Thought one of you guys had tied a crappy knot and we’d lost it. Then...just in case...I checked your beds.” He shook his head. “You have any idea how worried I was?” “How’d you know where to find us?” Olivia asked. Patrick stared at her like she was an idiot. “You’ve been like a broken record, going on about this boat. I figured it was worth checking. Swam halfway here, and then I spotted my dinghy.” “Look, we really are sorry,”
