15. Cole
FIFTEEN
Cole
I didn’t feel Seb in the baseball mitt, but I feel him on the throttle as I guide Briar through the Ballard Locks.
The lessons he taught me crowd the empty wheelhouse, going back years, starting from when we were kids, teaching me how to run the ship, how to fish. Dad didn’t teach me any of that.
I used to think there was something wrong with me, that I deserved his cruelty, until Seb explained it to me.
Me and Lawrence had stayed out too late, and Dad was already long-drunk.
Morgan was there too. That was probably the first time Morgan saw who the real captain was, a far cry from the lovable hero most thought of him on the ocean.
“When mom died having you, Dad never forgave you,” Seb told me. “Obviously, it’s not your fault. He’s just an idiot.”
I laughed, but he sobered.
“We have two families, remember? On land, it’s just you and me. On the ocean, we have him.”
He told me about our two families for years, ever since he first defended me from him. But that night, I told him something different.
“We don’t have two families. It’s you and me. Land, ocean, doesn’t matter where. It’s you and me.”
Tears blur my vision. I blink them back. The winding course out of Puget Sound and into the Pacific requires my full attention.
Hours pass before we reach the open ocean. Working the wheelhouse by myself is depressing, but I’m not alone completely. The Briar Anteros vibrates beneath me, and groans like a living, breathing thing, my safety amidst a relentless sea.
Javi and Lawrence kept me company for a few hours, lounging on the upholstered bench that replaced the former map desk. Their presence should have comforted me, but I feel like the third wheel now.
They probably don’t recognize this version of me; selfish and irritable, quiet and humorless. I don’t know if they’d even like me if they met me now.
By the end of the day, my jaw aches from clenching it. The muscles in my lower half twist into painful knots, and my bad leg is numb.
My phone vibrates on the console. I snatch it up. “Hey, Shay. Thanks for calling me back.”
Wood scuffs against wood in the background. “Are you going to tell me why you called, or am I supposed to guess?”
“Sorry. Yeah. I want to apologize for being such an asshole. I took my issues out on you, and that wasn’t fair.”
“You took them out on Finn too.”
“I know. Is Finn okay?”
“He was pretty down after you guys left.”
It’s the answer I expected, but it guts me. I don’t know how anyone could forgive me, let alone myself.
“He would have been sad whether you had a tantrum or not,” Shay says gently. “The last time he watched you guys leave, one of you didn’t come back.”
“I should have forced Morgan to stay home.”
“Morgan wouldn’t have let you. Finn wouldn’t have either. Morgan is under strict orders to go with you so you can keep each other safe.”
“That kid deserves a better parent than me.”
“Finn will be okay,” Shay continues, filling in the gaps of silence while I berate myself internally. “A trip to the pinball museum perked him right up, and we had ice cream for dinner. He passed out before I finished his bedtime story.”
“You take great care of him.”
“I can’t forever. I have to go back to school for the spring quarter. If you don’t get your shit together, you’ll force Morgan to parent Finn alone.”
“What?” Shit. That’s three months away. “He never mentioned it.”
“You two don’t talk much.”
“That’s actually the other reason I called. Sort of. I don’t know what will happen between me and Morgan, but I want to fix things with Finn.”
“Cole—”
“I promise I won’t disappear again. I don’t want him to feel like I don’t want him, because I do. It’s just hard for me.” I shake my head. “It’s harder on him, though. Can I video chat with him tomorrow?”
She sighs. “Sure. Do you want me to text you first?”
“Thanks. I don’t want to disappoint him if I don’t answer.” I scrub my stubble with my palm. “I’m not doing this to win Morgan back.”
“I know. You’re an asshole, but you’re not manipulative.”
I laugh. “Can I text you sometimes too? Maybe some pictures or little notes you can give him? And if you have time, could you send me some things I missed? Videos of him learning to swim or anything, really.”
She pauses. “I have time for that.”
“Thank you.” I massage the headache forming between my brows. “I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Okay. Stay safe.”
“Thanks.” A feeble wisp of hope sparks inside my chest as I end the call and drop my phone on the dashboard.
The sun simmers on the horizon beneath a peach and tangerine sky. But it’s not the view that caught my eye; it’s the smile in my reflection. The prospect of talking to Finn made me smile, and this time it didn’t hurt.
My smile fades. The only reason I’m talking to Finn tomorrow is because I hurt him today. I don’t deserve to smile, but maybe someday.
Night falls with no sight of Morgan. He probably spent the day in the engine room. When he’s in a stormy mood, he reorganizes the tools and does ship maintenance. Maybe I’ll see him as infrequently at sea as I did on land.
I pick up the wired phone and ring downstairs.
“Yeah, Boss?” Alejo says.
“Can you tell Morgan to come up?”
“Roger.”
A few minutes later, the stairs creak.
“You wanted me?” Morgan asks.
I swivel my chair to face him. He looks as tired as I feel, eyes puffy, dark circles underneath. Has he been crying?
“I’m worried about you. Are you okay?”
He pauses. “No. You?”
“Nope.”
He steps closer. “How’s your body treating you?”
“It’s not too bad. Just the usual.”
I can’t ask him to work on my knots. I mean, I could. He said he’d do it for me, that it doesn’t have to mean anything, but that was before he stopped fighting for me. He’s already done too much for me.
“I know things between us are complicated, but I’m proud of you,” he says. He spins my chair to the front and stands behind me.
“You didn’t even want me here.”
“Maybe I was wrong.” His tone turns teasing. “Or maybe I was right and it’s too soon to tell.” He massages my shoulders loosely.
“I didn’t call you up here for a massage.”
“I know.”
I exhale and relax into his touch. “I wish I could say that returning to the ocean changed something in me, like it did for my dad. But I’m the same Cole, except now I’m on a boat.”
Morgan laughs, small and short, the way he does when I say something funny without meaning to.
“You’re nothing like Dan, and you don’t need to change.” He squeezes the back of my neck and releases me. “You need to find your way back to who you are.”
“What if I can’t? What if what happened changed me for good?”
“You’re still Cole.”
We both fall silent as the Briar pierces through a five-foot wave. A blinking satellite crawls across the sky.
“It’s really hard being here without Seb,” I say. “But it’s the closest I’ve felt to him since he died.”
“There are a hell of a lot of memories with Seb here, and a hell of a lot of reminders, especially that empty hook in the gear room.”
I grimace. Apparently, Seb’s jacket kept falling off the hook on the ride back to Seattle, and the guys got spooked.
Wes said they tossed Seb’s jacket overboard to appease the ocean, or in case Seb wanted to keep it, as Lawrence helpfully suggested.
At least they left his fishing bib on the hook and his boots in the cubby below, a depressing little memorial I never want to take down.
“That reminds me.” I reach into a drawer and toss Morgan an unopened pack of cigarettes. “I found Seb’s secret stash behind an access panel.”
His eyes shimmer with threatened tears, before shuttering. He hands the pack back.
“No. Keep them.” I push his hand away, wishing I could hold it instead.
“Thanks.” He flashes a brittle smile. Silence swells. “I better go. I was in the middle of something. Thanks for checking on me.”
Sadness seeps into my bones. “Sure.”
“Oh, and Cole?”
My sinking heart slows its descent. “Yeah?”
“Seb would be proud of you too.”
Would he? I don’t think so.