Chapter 22
TWENTY-TWO
As I quietly exit the bathroom, my gaze drifts to Liam in bed. I can just make out his sleeping form in the predawn darkness, with Miss Bobber curled up beside him, where she'd slept between us all night. His dark hair is a tousled mess, and the soft rhythm of his breathing is the only sound breaking the stillness of the early morning. For a moment, I just watch him, letting my eyes adjust, and soaking in the quiet calm that surrounds him.
I step closer and lean down to press a gentle kiss to his forehead. He stirs as his eyes open, and he sleepily looks up at me.
“Hey,” he mumbles groggily.
“Hey,” I whisper back, smiling softly. “Sorry, just heading to work.”
He rubs a hand over his face and yawns. “And after?”
“Just need to finish up some stairs on a front deck in town.”
Liam nods, looking up at me again. “Need help?”
I shake my head, a small smile tugging at my lips. “It won't take long.”
His gaze drops to Miss Bobber as she stretches, and he rubs her belly. But even in the darkness, I can see the disappointment in his eyes.
“But,” I sit on the edge of the bed beside him, “you asked if I knew any good fly fishing spots around here.”
His eyes light up as they shift back to me, and I can’t help but chuckle.
“I do.” I nod.
A smile breaks out on his face, and warmth spreads through my chest.
“So,” I say, unable to take my eyes off his smile, “you’ll have to dig out all the fly fishing gear from the barn today. It hasn’t been used in who knows how many years, because fishing on a boat is better.”
Liam scoffs with a playful roll of his eyes. “You can’t even catch fish on a boat.”
A light laugh escapes me as I shake my head. “You’ll eat your words tonight.”
“Sure,” he says sarcastically. Then he gently runs his hand down my forearm. “But… sounds good.”
I lean down to kiss him, and he holds me against him for a beat longer, lingering like he doesn’t want to let me go. When I reluctantly sit back, I stare into his bright blue eyes, wishing I could just stay with him all day.
“See you later,” I say, reaching out to give Miss Bobber a pat before pushing to my feet. I close the door behind me, leaving him and Miss Bobber to enjoy a few more hours of sleep since it’s just after 4:00AM.
After I make a coffee to take with me, I head outside into the crisp, chilly air. The headlights cut through the darkness as I start up my truck, illuminating the side of the house. I take a sip of my coffee as the engine rumbles to life, the peaceful silence of the morning interrupted by its low hum. And as my eyes drift over the weathered wood siding, a sigh escapes me.
Grey and worn from years of coastal weather and salt air.
But underneath it all is something strong and resilient. Something that protects everything inside, keeping it safe, warm, and comfortable.
And people try so hard to recreate that weathered look. To put on the armour without facing any storms, like they want the scars without earning them.
That’s fucked.
I make my way through the still sleeping town to the marina, where a few captains have already arrived to start preparing their boats for the day. I give them a wave as I head towards my own, and sneak past the office so Sheila doesn’t catch me and give me an earful about the happenings of the wharf. As our marina manager she doesn’t have to be here this early… but she always is. She’s the self-proclaimed mother of everyone here, and says she needs to keep an “eye” on us. If I didn’t need to be up at 4:00AM, I wouldn’t be… but whatever makes her happy.
And she does make a damn good marina mom.
I step onto my boat and head straight for the wheelhouse, flipping on the engine to let it warm up. Just as I get the bait hauled out, Sarah arrives, hopping onto the boat deck with a grin and a salute.
“Morning, Cap,” she says cheerfully, taking the bucket from me.
“Morning,” I reply, always in awe of her cheerfulness no matter what time of day it is. I let her take the bucket and turn my attention to the GPS in the wheelhouse as she sets to work readying the bait. It’s been two days since we emptied the traps, so they’re likely all full. I don’t want this to be a long day, so I spend some time looking over trap locations so we can just get in and out and focus on the haul.
“Some chilly out this morning, eh?” Glen says, coming up behind me and peeking over my shoulder at the GPS.
“Hm,” I agree with a nod, keeping my eyes focused on the screen.
He pats my shoulder with a chuckle. “We’re ready for a big haul. Let's get at ‘er.”
Once everything is loaded and ready, I steer us out of the marina, the boat slicing through the calm water as the first hints of dawn streak the sky. I take a deep breath of the salty air, listening to the rumble of the engine and the gentle laps of the water as the soft glow of the wheelhouse screens light up the dark space around me.
But even as we head into what could be a long, gruelling day, I feel oddly at peace. And I know why.
Liam.
The thought of him drifts through my mind, bringing a calm that I don’t often feel at work.
Or ever.
But even with this unfamiliar feeling of peace, I can’t ignore the familiar questions that are creeping in. I glance back at Sarah, Mitch, and Glen, and wonder what they would think if they knew. If I told them I was gay, would everything change? Would it be weird and awkward between us? Would they leave my crew? Would everything be ok?
I’m afraid to find out the answers to these questions, because I love this crew. They’re like family, and the last thing I want to do is lose them, or anyone else.
But the more time I spend with Liam, the more the urge rises to confront these questions, and consider what it would be like to stop hiding. To feel this peace all the time, and not just in stolen moments behind closed doors.
But I’m not sure I can afford to find out. Because the thought of possibly losing the life I’ve built with this crew and with my family… and potentially hurting the people I love… I can’t do that.
I don’t know what to do.
With a sigh, I push those questions aside and try to hang onto the calm and peaceful feeling I started my morning with. But I’m not sure how much longer I can keep all these parts of my life separate.
I cast my line into the middle of the tranquil river, watching as the fly drifts on the surface of the water. After a moment, I slowly reel it back in and cast it out again. Once it lands on the water, I glance at Liam further down the river, laser-focused as he effortlessly casts his line. And a smile forms on my lips. While I’m far from a seasoned fly fisher, Liam clearly is. Each of his casts are smooth and precise as his fly floats gracefully downstream before he pulls it back in for another go, and I find myself just watching his motions.
I’ve never fished here before, but I knew about this river from a hike years ago. It’s about thirty minutes from Torrin Cove, and a decent trek off the road, so it’s quiet, secluded, and is perfect for fly fishing. And after a tough haul today, this is very needed. Not only because of how peaceful it is…but because I get to see Liam smile and enjoy himself.
Even though we haven’t caught any fish yet.
“So,” I say, casting my line again, watching the shimmering water as the sun dips low, “when was the last time you went fly fishing?”
Liam doesn’t answer right away, so I abandon my fly on the water for a moment and glance over at him.
He remains quiet for another moment as he watches his fly drift downstream. “Last year,” he says eventually. “When I was home visiting.”
There’s a tension in his voice, and a sadness that reminds me of the other day. When he almost broke down talking about home, and his guilt for feeling happy. I still don’t know why home is such a difficult topic for him, but I’ve pieced together enough to know that Nick’s death has left a deep scar, and it seems to have reshaped his relationship with his family in some way. I wish I could do more to help, but I also think he knows I’m here for him whenever he’s ready.
But right now, I want to keep him feeling relaxed and happy, so I shift the conversation.
“Well, I hope you did better than you’re doing now, because…” I trail off, raising a questioning eyebrow as he casts his line.
He huffs with a side-eye aimed my way. “I’d say my chances are still better than yours, with that technique,” he says, gesturing to my fishing rod with a nod.
“Hm,” I hum thoughtfully. “Didn’t you say you were going to show me how it’s done ?” I turn my head to him again and sweep my hand towards the river. “Let’s see it then. I’m waiting.”
His eyes light up as he smirks at me. “And what do I get if I do?”
I smile as I pull my line in. “Winner’s choice.”
“Deal.” He nods.
We fall silent as our focus shifts back to the water, keeping our eyes peeled for trout. Neither of us has seen a single fish since we’ve been here, but we keep casting, pulling the lines in, and casting again, hoping for a bite.
Until Liam’s rod bends, and he pulls his line tight.
Motherfucker.
I pull my empty line in with a huff as he works on pulling in his fish, which puts up a decent fight. But he fights back and successfully lifts it out of the water. And it’s a big one too.
Of fucking course.
He unhooks the fly from the trout’s mouth and holds it up with a triumphant smile. And I try really hard not to smile back at him, because it’s damn near impossible to resist the joy radiating from him.
With a sigh, I open the cooler and Liam drops the fish inside. Then he shuts the lid and turns to face me with an expectant look.
I raise an eyebrow, picking up my rod again. “Need something?”
He nods. “Yeah. I won the bet.”
I roll my eyes as I straighten out my line, ready to cast it into the water and level this out. “Looking for praise?”
“Something like that,” he says, stepping closer to me.
I look up at him, and his eyes burn into mine with an intensity that sends heat flooding through me. I slowly lower my rod, and the fly slips from my hand into the water at my feet.
“You said winner’s choice,” he says in a low voice, taking another step closer.
My heart rate spikes as I watch the corner of his lips tip up in a sly smile, and anticipation rises.
Liam lifts his hand and slips his fingers into the front of my waistband, pulling me closer so my lips brush his. “I’m redeeming my prize right now.”