Endless Depths (Deep Water #1)

1. Cole

ONE

Cole

There’s an old fishing proverb that says once the ocean gets a taste of you, you’ll never be safe off land again. Some fishermen were so afraid that they refused to learn how to swim. At least, according to my brother, Seb.

I’m as superstitious as the next fisherman, which is a hell of a lot, but I think that one’s bullshit.

The ocean has had a taste of all of us, and we taunt her every year. When our time is up, it doesn’t matter where we are, she’ll find us in the end—if not by drowning, or shipwreck, then at the bottom of a bottle, the end of a needle, or death by our own hand.

Morgan’s intimidating frame casts a long shadow across the end of the dock. With his back to me, and his fists clenched at his sides, he looks more like he wants to start a fight with the horizon than go crab fishing.

Wind licks at the wavy tufts of his dark brown hair, and the scent of sea salt and petrichor drifts my way on the current of his cologne. October has some of the best weather in Seattle, one last warm caress before the long dark begins, a fond farewell before our trek to Alaska.

“Hey, babe. We’re ready to cast off.”

“It still doesn’t feel right,” Morgan says without turning.

He’s been saying that for the last few days, waking up in a panic with my name on his lips. I don’t blame him.

Last year’s bad luck streak would be nightmare fodder for anyone, let alone my husband.

A snapped rope almost severed my head from my neck; falling ice gave me a concussion, and Morgan’s quick reflexes spared me from the certain death of being crushed between two 800-pound crab traps.

They don’t call it one of the nation’s deadliest occupations for nothing.

But that won’t stop me.

The Bering Sea has always been a man-eater. I’ve lost enough friends and family to know how fragile life can be. I’ve gotten off the Briar Anteros, kissed the dock, and vowed never to go out again, only to yearn for it.

I wrap my arms around Morgan and hug him from behind. “I’ll be okay.”

He nuzzles his cheek against mine, stubble raising goosebumps across my skin. “But what if you’re not?”

“Danger’s always been part of the deal.”

He turns, flashing troubled aquamarine eyes illuminated in the sunlight like sea glass. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t. You always keep me safe.”

He hugs me, tight and all-encompassing, like he already feels me slipping through his fingers. “Keeping you safe is a full-time job, Sunshine. When will I fish?” He sneaks his hands into my back pockets and squeezes my ass until I rise onto the balls of my feet.

My body submits to him automatically. I may have caught up to him in height and strength, but he’ll always be my brother’s best friend, willing to put me in my place and take me over his knee, loving me even when I’m weak.

“Please, Cole. Stay home, keep our bed warm. Just for this year.”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll sit back on land and let my family, my entire world, go out there without me. Not a chance.”

“Finn’s family. If you stay home to hang out with him, he’ll be ecstatic.”

“I love that kid, but no. I go where you go. If the ship goes down, I’m going down with you. That’s the rule.”

He steps back, massaging his temples. “That’s your rule, a stupid rule.”

“You know I’m right, though.” I hook my finger in his belt loop and tug him back to me. “Working shorthanded is dangerous too. Alejo is a good kid, but you can’t count on him to pick up my slack when you still have to look out for him.”

He searches my gaze, exhales a small growl through clenched teeth, and leaves me facing the Ballard Locks that protect Lake Union from the tide.

Heavy footsteps rumble on the weathered beams with the rhythm of his long stride.

The people on the crowded dock scatter like gulls, carving a path for me to follow.

I can’t help but shamelessly map the contours of his ass as he grips the rail and hoists himself onto the deck of the Briar Anteros. I’ve had a crush on my husband since we were teenagers.

The Briar has been in my family since she was christened.

I’m the spare heir to a family business built by brine and grit over generations.

I was born on that boat. My mother died on that boat.

Morgan and I fell in love and had our wedding there too.

But when I climb onto the deck after him, the subtle sway beneath my feet fills me with foreboding instead of familiarity, as if somewhere a countdown started.

The ocean is hungry, and the hundred-foot ship won’t be enough to protect me.

“Don’t tell me you’re fighting already?” Lawrence asks, tattoos on his forearms flexing as he coils a length of rope and ties it off, then lassos his blond hair into a half bun. “At least wait until we leave the bay.”

“Fuck off,” Morgan says.

“Hey Javi, you better call your girl,” Lawrence calls over his shoulder. “Tell her you’ll be late.”

“I don’t need to,” Javi says from the doorway to the forepeak. “If you and Morgan don’t make up on your own, we’ll lock you in the engine room until you bang it out or kill each other.”

“You guys aren’t helping,” I say as Morgan disappears inside the gear room.

“Who’s killing who?” Seb asks.

Before I can answer, tiny footsteps scuttle across the deck at a fast clip, and a bright orange blur collides with me.

“Uncle Cole!” Finn says. Or tries to say. Uncle Cole is a bit of a tongue twister for a four-year-old.

“Finn!” I parrot back with the same enthusiasm, swooping him up into a hug. “What’s with the life jacket?” I raise my brows at Seb. “You’re not planning to pole vault over the rail, are you, Finn?”

Finn frowns. “Pole what?”

“He’s still learning how to swim,” Seb says.

A life jacket for a visit to a docked ship is a little much, but being overprotective is how my brother shows his love.

“I’m scared,” Finn says behind his hand, an attempt at a whisper that’s anything but.

“Hey, that’s okay. I was afraid of the water when I was your age too.”

“You were?”

I lower him back to his feet. “Yup. I didn’t learn until your grandpa tossed me off the boat.”

Finn’s hazel eyes widen over freckled cheeks. “This boat?”

I nod gravely. “But I don’t recommend it.”

Seb’s forehead wrinkles, and a muscle in his jaw twitches.

It’s the face he made whenever our dad did something particularly neglectful.

Maybe I shouldn’t have shared that anecdote.

The trouble with having an alcoholic for a father is that sometimes I don’t realize funny childhood stories aren’t actually funny until I tell them to someone else.

“What happened?” Finn asks.

“I sank.”

He gasps.

“Luckily, your daddy saved me. Then he taught me how to swim in the bathtub.”

“The bathtub?” Finn narrows his gaze on Seb. “Why haven’t we tried that?”

“I only told him that so he’d take a bath. Your uncle was very smelly. Never washed his hair.”

I cross my arms over my chest with feigned offense. “Yeah, because I didn’t want water to get in my ears after the whole tossed-off-a-boat scenario.”

“You never told me how you learned to swim,” Morgan says, emerging from the bulkhead door with grease smudged up to his elbows.

“That’s because you already know how to swim, Uncle Mor.” I roll my eyes at Finn, who laughs. “Maybe you should take a bath in the lake and show Finn how it’s done.”

The corner of Morgan’s mouth twitches. Almost a smile. I’ll take it.

He ruffles Finn’s hair. “You’ll learn when you’re ready. The ocean’s not going anywhere.”

Seb strokes the salt and pepper stubble on his chin.

He and I share the same sandy light brown hair, but his looks full-on blond thanks to all the grays I gave him.

I mean, not all of them are my fault. He’s only three years older than me, but the stress of being a captain and a childhood of unfair parentification aged him.

“Okay, I think I have an idea, Finn.” Seb squats to meet his eyes. “If you practice floating on your back in the bath while I’m gone, and are a good helper for Auntie Shay, I’ll teach you the rest when I come home. Deal?” He holds out his fist.

Finn bumps knuckles with his pint-sized fist. “Deal!”

After a series of goodbyes, high fives, and fist bumps with the rest of the crew, Seb takes Finn to Shay, waiting on the dock.

Finn’s mom overdosed when he was a few months old.

Shay is Lexie’s sister. Or was. I’m not sure.

Are you still someone’s sister after they die?

Regardless, Shay’s the closest to a mother the poor kid’s ever known.

Morgan drags me through the salty gear room, past the wall of orange and yellow rain jackets and fishing bibs hanging above boots. He stops in front of our room.

“Get your cute ass in here.” He nudges our bedroom door open with the tip of his boot.

“Me? I know exactly what you’re doing with that whole sweaty, dirty mechanic aesthetic.”

“It’s not an aesthetic. I was changing a filter.”

“Right.”

He bolts the door shut behind us, then pins me against it.

The lock isn’t strong enough to keep anyone out.

It’s just there so no one gets clobbered by a swinging door if the boat does a big roll.

Still, between the lock and the droning engine, we usually have some semblance of privacy once we’re out on open ocean.

Well, as long as Javi and Lawrence aren’t in their bunks on the other side of the wall.

“Sweetheart, I don’t need to put on a costume.” His hand trails down my abs and palms my cock through my pants. “You’re always ready for me.” He squeezes and laughs at my gasp. “Stay.”

He crosses the few steps to sit on the custom bed we crammed beneath the top bunk, and widens his stance, leaving the perfect place for me to kneel between his legs. But he doesn’t summon me yet.

“Maybe I’ll tease and torture you, rile you up just to leave you wanting all season. You’d probably be better off staying home and in my good graces.”

“If that threat was supposed to make me leave, it had the opposite effect.”

“It wasn’t a threat.”

I smirk. “I’ll take my chances.”

“We’ll see.” He curls two fingers, calling me closer, tantalizing me with the thought of those fingers massaging my prostate.

When I stand between his legs, he hugs my waist and bows his head against my stomach.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay.” I stroke his hair, dark brown turned black below deck where portholes provide our only sunlight.

I tilt his head back. His eyes are still closed, thick lashes locked together, lips worried into a frown.

My poor husband. I hate that he’s worried because of me.

I climb onto his lap, and trace the seam of his lips with my tongue, then kiss him, apologizing wordlessly.

His eyes flutter open, vulnerable and seeking me.

“Why can’t you listen?” he asks, fingertips dipping inside the waistband of my pants. “Just this once.”

“Because we can’t live in fear.”

His gaze turns tender, but the tension around his eyes still lingers. He’ll take his pound of flesh for the stress I’ve caused him. He pushes me down onto my back, pretzeling my legs to fit, and the love we make will hurt in the best way and—

A sharp knock raps the door. “Y’all fighting or fucking?”

“Fuck off, Lawrence,” Morgan growls, dragging the fuck out.

“Glad you two made up.” Lawrence laughs. “Wes and Alejo are all unpacked, and we’re about to cast off.”

Morgan quirks a brow. “Last chance.”

I shake my head. “I go where you go.”

We’re tethered to each other, ropes twisted in knots. Nothing can tear us apart.

The engine rumbles to life. Morgan thrusts between my thighs as we leave the bay, refusing to let me come for so long I worry he was serious about depriving me for the next month. He drives me to the edge of my sanity, then wraps his hand around my cock, and gets us both off.

Later, Morgan kisses my hair, and murmurs, “If the sea tries to take you, I’ll drain the ocean to save you.”

They say still waters run deep, but Morgan’s depths are endless, and even though the ocean is stronger, I believe him.