Ella

It’s odd seeing Ryatt in plain clothes. He doesn’t fit here, I realize, as I watch him turn his gaze from the strangers seated nearby back to the water all around us. He’s been silent since we walked onto the ferry that runs between the isles and Maatua. 

I wish I could take a peek into his mind, just for a moment, just long enough to know what he’s thinking. 

He’s dressed in navy blue athletic shorts that are a smidge too short for him, resting midthigh ...