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ATTICUS FELT TERRIBLE. NOT DUE to the headache caused by the strong waves crashing against the side of the boat, or the fact that there wasn't a moment he could talk to either of his friends in peace without them touching each other and professing their love. It was because of the people back home.
He knew what would be going on back on the island, the trio had been lost at sea. It was a miracle they were still alive, not that anybody else knew that. In the Outer Banks, Atticus knew everyone thought they were dead. His mum, his brother, his friends, Renna- they all thought he was unconscious on the ocean floor.
As his legs hung over the side of the ship, head pressed against the railing stopping him from falling overboard, he imagined the people he held closest, the people he loved, crying and screaming with unbearable grief caused by him and his friends. Why couldn't John B have let him leave? Why didn't he stay? Why didn't he follow after Renna on the motorbike to make sure she was okay? He didn't even know, was she okay?
"C'mon, brother. It's getting late," Terence said as he walked past the boy, patting him on the shoulder as he slowed to a stop. Atticus closed his eyes, taking in one last deep breath of the salty yet relieving ocean air before pulling himself away from the rails. "You good, man?"
"Yeah, yeah," Atticus mumbled as he plastered on a smile, coming to stand beside the man. "Never better." The second he turned away, he rolled his eyes. He just wanted to go home.
The next day, when they were pulling into the Nassau harbour, Terence sent the three teenagers up into a secured part of the ship to keep them safe and away from the public eye. Atticus immediately sat himself down on one of the trunks pushed against the far wall as John B and Sarah looked out the window. She pointed towards her family holiday home, a mansion on the shoreline, which led to a discussion surrounding what they were planning to do next.
"John B, we are fugitives in a foreign country," Sarah argued, shooting down her boyfriend's idea of staying in her family's house.
"Yeah, I get it," he nodded quickly.
"We just have to be careful," she reasoned politely, locking hands with him.
"Yeah, yeah, I got it."
"Do you, Atticus?" Sarah asked as she turned around. He lifted his head, eyes uninterested. "You gonna be careful?"
"No."
"What? Why?" John B started.
"Because I'm not a fugitive," he began whilst standing up, eyes hovering between the two as they held back their shock. "Look, John B, you're a fugitive, and by the sounds of it, you're gonna be his fucking wife soon. That means you two are in trouble, but me? I'm just chilling. Yeah, if I go back, Rafe's probably gonna try to kill me or some shit, but I'm Atticus fucking Fletcher. He can't kill me . . . I'll kill him. So while you two are hiding out here, I'm gonna go back home where I belong. I don't think you guys understand, everyone thinks we're fucking dead!"
