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then his strong arms are helping me to a sitting position.
    “Summer? Are you ok?”
    I nod dumbly.
    “Good. Wait there. Don’t try to stand.”
    Before I have the chance to reply, Adam springs to his feet, and grabs the bow with both hands. He wedges his feet against the deck, and pulls, wrenching the flying sail back, inch by painful inch.
    I start to move, thinking I should help him. The sail is taking the full impact of the wind, and looks impossible to master.
    “Get down Summer!” shouts Adam. I hesitate.
    “Now!” he bellows. This time the fire in his voice is enough to make me obey instantly.
    Panting, Adam drags the flapping sail in line with the boat. Then in a dexterous manoeuvre, he grabs a free rope, and flings it over the bow.
    My breath is held, as I watch him secure it with effort. Then he winches the sail back, unleashes the ropes, and lets it fall.
    I breathe out.
    “It’s safe now,” says Adam. “I have a spare rope. I can fix it, so we can sail back.”
    He frowns. “I don’t know how that could have happened,” he mutters, walking over to me, and pulling me to my feet. “Are you sure you’re ok?”
    “I’m fine,” I say.
    “No you’re not,” says Adam. “You’re shaking.”
    He pulls me into his arms.
    “It’s nothing,” I say, willing my body to calm. “I’m ok now. Honestly.”
    Adam pulls me away to face him, running his hands over my hair.
    “You could have been badly injured,” he says grimly. “That bow was moving fast. A broken nose would have been the least of it.”
    His face darkens over suddenly.
    “Summer,” he says. “Don’t you ever disobey me again. If I tell you to get down, you get down and stay there, ok?”
    Shit. He’s completely furious.
    I nod dumbly. Adam looks so angry. He raises his hand, and I flinch.
    To my surprise, the anger in his face vanishes like a cloud before the sun, replaced by utter horror.
    “Summer,” he whispers, “you didn’t think…”
    He sinks his hand back slowly, his face still a picture of shock.
    “I was just moving my hand to push my hair away,” he says, “surely you didn’t think I would ever raise my hand to you in anger?”
    I don’t reply.
    Of course I think that. Isn’t that what I deserve?
    “Did you think I would hit you?” he asks.
    Adam’s face is so utterly devastated, that it prompts me to speak.
    “No,” I blurt. “I know you’re not like that. It’s an old instinct, that’s all.”
    Suddenly I realise I’ve said too much.
    Adam scans my face for a long moment. I know he’s too clever not to work things out.
    “Your ex-boyfriend,” he says, with unnerving discernment. “The one you mentioned at the party last night.”
    I say nothing. But he must know by the shame in my face he’s judged right.
    “He hit you. Didn’t he?” Adam’s tone is soft.
    I bite my lip, not sure how to respond.
    “Didn’t he?” says Adam.
    He takes my face in his hands.
    “You flinched,” he said, “Like you were expecting to be struck. Summer, tell me. What did he do to you?”
    Adam’s voice is so warm, so caring, that I feel it suddenly pouring out. The truth.
    “It was never serious,” I blurt. “Nothing to leave marks. It was just… Dez lost his temper sometimes.”
    The fury in Adam’s face it so strong that I can’t stand it.
    “It was mostly my fault,” I whisper. “I… I’m not the girl you think I am Adam.”
    The fury in Adam’s expression twists to a pain so deep, that I wonder for a moment if he’s physically hurting from fixing the boat.
    “Summer,” he says, “you must never say that. A man who hits a woman in anger is not a man. Do you understand? It wasn’t your fault.”
    Part of me feels his words like an ocean wave, washing me clean. But another part of me is so mired tight in shame, that it locks down again.
    “We don’t have to talk about it now,” says Adam, sensing my shame. “But Summer. We do have to talk about this.”
    He’s looking at me, waiting