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“There’s a ladder at the stern, sir,” Eric told him. “Paul will climb aboard first and be there if you need him.”

“I’m Adam, not sir, okay? Let me know how many rungs,” Adam replied, “and I’m good.”

“Shane, catch!” Eric called out. Adam waited as the RIB was moored to the stern of the boat. “Okay, lads, up you go.”

Paul assisted Adam to stand and move to the RIB’s side. Adam waited until Paul reached down to help him up. “Seven rungs, okay?”

Adam handed up the cane first, then felt for the first rung with his foot. Grasping a higher rung with one hand and Paul’s fingers wrapped tight around his other, Adam climbed the ladder and stepped down onto the deck.

“There’s wooden benching all the way around the deck,” Paul told him. “Sit down and once we’re under way, you can talk to Eric.”

Adam complied, his head reeling. Not for one minute had he suspected how his day would turn out, and yet there he was, on board a boat for the first time since losing his vision. Oh, he’d thought about it, dreamed of doing it again, but one day off in the future.

I can’t believe this is happening.

The wind wafted over his skin and he breathed deeply, taking the fresh sea air into his lungs.

It had to be a dream.

Chapter Fourteen

“Would you care to join me at the helm, Adam?” Eric asked him, about five minutes after drawing up the anchor.

Adam grinned widely. “I’d love to.” He stood, knowing Paul was doing the same. “Paul, it’s okay. Point me in the right direction and give me an approximate distance. I’ll do the rest.” He couldn’t believe how great he was feeling, like he could do
anything
.

“Left toward the stern,” Paul informed him, “and roughly four feet until you reach Eric. The deck is clear of obstacles.”

“Thanks.” Adam tapped his way along the wooden deck until he felt a firm hand grasp his.

“There’s a step down, and then a bench to sit on,” Eric told him, gripping his hand tightly as Adam negotiated the step. He located the bench and sank onto it.

“Tell me about the boat, Eric.”

“With pleasure. She’s a Holman Rummer Class, thirty-five feet Bermudan yawl, constructed in 1960. My Dad bought her off this Danish couple about five years ago, when they were moored up in Yarmouth. They were checking out a fifty feet Duchessa motor yacht that was for sale and were keen to sell. Dad fell in love with her at first sight.”

“Where was she built?” Adam asked, stroking his hand over the wood surrounding the cockpit.

“Here in the UK. She’s got four berths below, a portside galley with a sink and gas cooker, and lockers port and starboard.”

“What d’you use to navigate?”

“Garmin 152 GPS.”

Adam nodded approvingly. “I bet she has lovely lines.” He stifled the sigh right behind his lips. He could envisage the sleek yacht, clear as anything.

“She’s a beaut, all right, and she steers like a dream. Want to try her for yourself?”

Adam froze. “Really?”

Eric chuckled. “Really. I mean, you’ve done this before, lots of times. Paul told me.” A hand to his upper arm. “Step right this way, Mr. Kent. The wheel is yours. I’ll be right beside you the whole time.”

Adam stepped up to the wheel, his hands at ten and two. He gripped the polished wooden surface, estimating its diameter to be about one meter. “What’s her top speed?”

“Around the seven knots mark, although I have coaxed more out of her.” Eric chuckled. “Just don’t tell my dad.”

Adam nodded. “Well, we shan’t be attempting to break any records today. Anything on the horizon I need to know about?”

“Adam, we’re in the English Channel, and there isn’t another vessel in sight. Go for it.”

Adam let out a sigh of sheer contentment and spun the wheel to port, the movement instinctual. “What’s our speed?”

“Three knots.”

He grinned. “We can do a bit better, don’t you think? Let’s open her up and take her to six knots.”

“Aye aye, Sir.” Adam loved the note of amusement in Eric’s voice.

He had no idea how long Eric allowed him at the wheel. All he knew was that he was in heaven. A beautiful boat at his command, the sea breeze fresh and warm on his face, the feeling of salt on his skin. Adam was feeling wonderfully, magnificently
alive
. He knew this dream would have to end eventually, but until then, Adam let go and relished every single second of it. Eric didn’t interfere, just let him get on with it as he changed direction, ordered a change of speed, and eased the yacht through the water with a skill he’d almost forgotten he possessed. He was dimly aware of the chatter around the cockpit, but he let it wash over him, concentrating instead on enjoying the experience to the full.

“Ready to hand back the controls?” Eric asked him.

Adam exhaled, nodding. It had been glorious, but all good things had to come to an end.

Eric took the wheel from him and Adam retook his seat. “I can’t begin to thank you for today, Eric,” he said after a moment. “Firstly for inviting us aboard, and then for allowing me to steer. You have no idea what this has meant to me.” He was still buzzing from the experience.

Eric fell silent and Adam wondered what on earth he’d said. After a while Eric spoke, his voice quiet, barely audible above the waves and the animated conversations of the boat’s occupants. “I thought you knew. This trip out, you taking control of the boat—this was all Paul’s idea. All I did was say yes.”

Adam sat still, his mind processing Eric’s words.
Paul
had done all this? For him?

It was as if someone had delivered a punch straight to his solar plexus. He’d been an utter bastard to Paul from day one. He’d denigrated him, treated him like shit, fucked him and then walked all over him like he was a piece of dirt on Adam’s shoes. And what had Paul done in return?

Given him the best day he’d had in recent memory. Given him back his confidence, his belief in his own abilities. Shared his friends.

“Adam? Are you all right?” Eric’s voice pierced his reflections.

“Not really, no.” Adam sighed. Berating himself would change nothing. What was required in the circumstances was a heartfelt apology.

And there was no time like the present.

“Thank you again, Eric.” Adam grasped his cane. “If you’d point me in Paul’s direction, please.”

“I think he’s below deck, sorting out drinks. There’s bottled water if you want some, but knowing Paul, he’s probably attempting to make coffee using the gas cooker. There’s a whistling kettle he can use.” Eric paused. “Shane! Show Adam below deck, yeah?”

“Sure.” A hand lightly touched his arm. “Wanna step up here, Adam?”

A minute or so later and he was below deck, sitting on a bunk, drinking water and wondering how on earth to begin the conversation that had to take place. It was clear to Adam he couldn’t go on as before. Paul was doing all he could to help Adam move forward. It was about time Adam stopped fighting him. He thought back on the last couple of months, his life since he’d lost his vision.

Only, I haven’t been living. I’ve been going through the motions.

He’d done more living in the last twelve hours than in the previous eight or nine weeks.

Time to move on. Get his life back. And that meant making some serious changes, starting with his attitude. Paul had taken all Adam’s crap, put up with his abuse, and
still
tried to make things better for him.

Well, that changes today. Now.

“Okay, everyone’s got something to drink,” Paul said as he came below deck. “Did you enjoy steering the boat? It looked like you were having a great time. I’m sure Eric—”

“Paul.” He forced as much authority into his voice as he could. To his relief the young man came to a stop. Adam patted the bunk. “Sit down, please.”

Paul did as he was told. “If we stay down here, that lot’ll think we’re up to no good.”

“Then let them,” Adam said simply. “I… I need to talk to you and it’s a damn sight easier down here.”

Paul fell silent, until all Adam could hear was the sound of the engine, and the waves around the boat. He still had no clue how to proceed. He reached out and connected with Paul’s shoulder, moving higher until his fingertips came to rest on Paul’s cheek.

“What… what are you doing?” The whispered question carried no fear, only curiosity.

“Something I should have done when we first met.” Adam traced the contours of Paul’s face with his fingers. “Seeing what you look like.” He placed both hands on Paul’s cheeks, feeling the curve of his cheekbones, the firm jawline, the small nose. He moved higher, feeling his way across Paul’s smooth brow, then lower to the delicate curve of his temples. Lower still to his mouth, Paul’s lips like warm silk.

Adam gave out a nervous laugh. “It’s just occurred to me that I don’t know what I’m doing here. I’ve never done this before.”

“I think you’re doing fine,” Paul whispered back.

Adam concentrated on trying to ‘see’ Paul. He was conscious of Paul’s breathing, slow and even. It had been a long time since Adam had touched a guy in so intimate a manner, and for a moment he lost himself in the act as Paul indulged him. When Paul leaned into his touch, Adam brought his movements to a standstill. Pleasant though this was, it wasn’t what Adam had intended. He withdrew his hands and placed them in his lap. “We need to talk.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Maybe it was Adam’s imagination, but something had changed. He heard Paul swallow hard, heard him draw in a deep breath. “What is it you’re not saying?”
Damn it
. Life was a lot easier when he’d had visual clues to go on. Having said that, he’d still surmised all wasn’t well, in spite of not being able to see Paul.
Score one for the blind guy.

“I’m sorry, but I’m finding it difficult to be enthusiastic about us talking. Been there, done that a few times that it’s now beginning to feel like déja vu.”

“What do you mean?” Adam’s heart sank. He feigned ignorance, although he had all too good an idea what was about to come from Paul’s mouth.

Paul heaved a sigh. “We talk. I think we’re getting on better. You do an about-face and we’re back to square one. We talk again. Another step forward, followed by two steps back. So I figure it’s going to be the same thing. Rinse, repeat.”

Heaviness crept through Adam’s chest, spreading out to his limbs. “That’s really how you feel?”

“Yes.” The word scratched the air between them.

Adam felt… cold. “I’m so sorry.” He couldn’t deny the truth of Paul’s accurate assessment. “Not this time,” he assured Paul.

“Why not?”

“Because today my eyes were opened,” Adam told him. “Today I finally saw what sort of man you are. And I want to know more. Starting with…. ” He paused, choosing his words carefully. “Can we talk about Saturday night?”

He knew he wasn’t imagining how still Paul became. “I thought we’d already talked about it. You fucked me, remember?”

Adam caught his breath, inwardly cursing his ability to fuck up a situation simply by opening his mouth. After a moment, he sighed. “There’s something you need to know about me.”

“Oh?” Still that hesitant note.

“Yeah. I’m an arsehole.”

Paul gasped, and seconds later he snickered. “Really. I’d never have guessed. I mean, you hide it so well.”

Adam guffawed.
This
was the Paul he knew, the one with backbone. “Okay, I deserve that. Do you know why I agreed to come out with you today? Because I felt I owed it to you, to make up for me being such an asshole. Only, things didn’t turn out the way I’d expected.”

“Go on.” No hesitancy, only warmth in Paul’s voice.

“It took today to show me that you deserve my respect. You’ve gone out of your way to do things to improve my situation, you stood up for yourself in the face of all my bullshit. Even when I treated you like shit, you didn’t give up on me.” He took a deep breath. “So this is me, apologizing. I will never speak to you like that again, I promise. I don’t expect you to believe me, not after all the crap I’ve put you through. But I hope my actions will speak for me from now on.” He fell silent. It was up to Paul now.

* * * * * *

Paul’s head was spinning, trying to deal with the one-eighty Adam had pulled on him.

If he really means it….

He gave himself a mental shake. Adam’s track record was bad enough for him to doubt his words. That didn’t mean Paul should carry on doubting him. He gazed at Adam’s furrowed brow, his hunched shoulders.

Paul cleared his throat. “Apology accepted. I have an idea. Shall we start again?”

Adam smiled and visibly relaxed. “I like that idea. And I mentioned Saturday night because after overhearing your phone conversation, I wanted to know more about you. I liked what I heard.” His lips twisted into a smirk. “As if you couldn’t tell.”

Paul didn’t know what to say to that. The sex had been fantastic, but Adam’s behavior the following morning had taken all the shine off it.

Adam’s face fell. “And about that… I didn’t mean what I said.”

“Which part?” Paul fired back at him. “Because you said a lot of things, as I recall.” He scrubbed his hand across his face with a sigh. “I’m sorry. That was wrong of me, especially after you’ve apologized.”

“No, no, you’re entitled to be pissed off. Like I said, I put you through so much shit.” He raised his chin to give the impression he was staring straight at Paul. “The sex wasn’t okay, all right? It was really good, at least from my point of view.”

Paul’s face heated up. “Oh.” His voice cracked. “Okay.” His cheeks weren’t the only part of his anatomy that were hot.
Down, boy.
This was neither the time nor the place. That didn’t stop the thought from crossing his mind:
does this mean we get to do it again?

Detente or not, he wasn’t about to ask.

Adam, the swine, was grinning. “I love how you can go from dropping your trousers and offering up your arse to be spanked one minute, to that adorable squeak I heard just now.” He coughed. “And speaking of spanking… ”

Paul’s heartbeat sped up.

“How long have you been interested in the dark side?”

Paul was
so
glad he wasn’t drinking anything at that point. “Dark side?” Not that he didn’t know exactly what Adam meant. His pulse raced.