He laughed at that, drily. “You think things were romantic on the rig?”

“They must have been at least a little romantic,” she said, “if you and Susan did the deed there for three years.”

“The deed? We really need to work on your sexual vocabulary, Supergirl. ‘The deed’ could refer to any number of things—”

“I don’t need to know specifics!” she said quickly. Yes, you do, said the devil on her left shoulder. Olivia ignored her. “But three years together, that’s a long time. You must have really been in love.”

“Thought so at the time,” he said. “But it didn’t work out. It’s been over for a while.”

He looked a little sad, which was hard to take for some reason, but it suitably distracted her from panicking that they were still moving. “Over over?” she asked.

He looked at her for a long beat, and then a ghost of a smile crossed his lips. “You asking for any particular reason?”

She huffed out a forced laugh. “No. Of course not.”

“You’re interested in me.”

“That’s absurd. That’s…ridiculous. I don’t even know you. I—”

He leaned into her so that she felt cradled between the arm along the back of the ride and the hand he’d set on the armrest at her far hip. “It’s over over,” he said, and held her gaze. “You know what this means, right?”

She shook her head.

“It means it’s your turn to share with the class.”

She stared at him, those butterflies in her belly fluttering to life again. Her longest relationship had been with her handheld shower massager.

“You ever love anyone, Olivia?”

Well, she loved her shower massager, but somehow she didn’t see herself admitting that. “Love?”

“Yeah. Love.”

She’d been with guys. She’d had crushes. She’d even really liked a few here and there…but she’d never been particularly successful at getting to the next stage and staying there.

Maybe because your first kiss happened on camera.

Or maybe because your first boyfriend was a fellow actor, who’d been…acting.

But the real answer was even more revealing—she’d never figured out how to let anyone know the real her. Instead of answering, she risked another look around. They were on the upswing again. “Oh, good God. We’re going around another time.”

“Breathe,” he murmured. “Just keep breathing.”

Right. She gulped in air. “I’ve heard it’s a pretty rough existence out there on the rigs,” she said, desperate for a subject change.

“Yeah,” he said. “Rough. You could definitely say that.”

She met his gaze.

“We lost someone out there,” he told her. “My best friend, Gil. And nearly Tanner, too.”

“My God, how awful,” she breathed. “What happened?”

“We had a gas explosion, and a fire.”

She couldn’t even imagine. Here she’d been thinking about how hard she’d had it. Poor little Hollywood kid, abandoned by her people, boo hoo. “Were you hurt?”

“Minimally,” he said. “I don’t remember much of it, not the last few moments leading up to it, or right after. Opened my eyes in the water, and that was it.”

He looked angry at himself that he couldn’t remember. “Sometimes,” she said quietly, “remembering isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. Sometimes we’re better off not remembering.”

He nodded and looked off into the night. “Sam, Tanner, and I left the gulf after that. We’d saved every penny we could during those five years to start a charter company together. We did it in Gil’s memory.”

“Pretty great way to honor him,” she said.

He gave her a small smile. “Gil would’ve been real pissed off if we hadn’t followed through with the plan because of him.”

So he’d come home with Sam and Tanner and started the charter company, she thought. And then his dad had died, leaving him as the man of the house for his mom and sisters.

Which she knew he most likely had taken on without complaint, because he had a backbone of steel.

She’d never met anyone like him. “You’ve had a rough few years,” she said.

“And also a pretty great few years.”

She stared at him, warmed by just looking at him and also by the realization that she liked him. The man he was. She liked him, and trusted him. And she was tempted by him in a way she’d not been tempted in…well, ever. She hadn’t let herself become attached to anyone because this way she was always prepared when they left.

But with Cole, she had the feeling it was already too late.

“What about you?” he asked. “What did you do before coming to Lucky Harbor?”

“I went to college.” Several times, in fact.

He smiled. “You’re going to make me work for this. That’s okay, I’m a patient sort. Where did you go?”

“NYU.” The first time.

“Impressive,” he said.

“And then San Francisco University.” She paused. “And New Mexico.”

“Ah,” he said. “You had the wanderlust bug.”

“More like the ADHD bug,” she admitted. She’d happily gone along collecting degrees like some women collect earrings, soaking up being in school for the first time in her life, loving the freedom.