27. Morgan #2
“I can’t help it.” I really can’t. I have the biggest crush on my husband. The need to be close to him, to show him all the love he didn’t let me give him, is so strong after the months we spent apart.
“You okay?” I ask. “That whole ghost story discussion was heavy.”
“It didn’t bother me. The Seb in my dream saved you. I feel like shit that they’re all struggling to the point of seeing things, though. I haven’t been around to talk with them about it. I should have known how hard coming back here would be. Not just for you and me. Seb belonged to all of us.”
He navigates Briar up and over another wave. I grip the chair to steady myself as we crash back down. I don’t miss Cole’s hiss of pain.
“Here, let me take over. Go rest, and give your tailbone a break.”
“Thanks.” He braces his hands on the armrests and pushes to his feet with another pained hiss. “Fuck.”
I hoist him the rest of the way up and take his seat, keeping my eyes on the waves. At Cole’s soft gasp, I risk a glance over my shoulder in time to catch his eyes gnashing shut in anguish as he lowers onto the bench and rolls onto his side.
“I meant rest in bed.”
“I know, but I want to be with you.”
“Be careful, okay? I don’t think the raised lip on that bench can compete with thirty-foot waves, and your face is too pretty to break. I don’t know how you made it this long without breaking your nose. Let’s keep it that way.”
He laughs. “If this is you flirting, you’re out of practice.”
I scoff. “If I was flirting, I’d tell you that I’ll love you no matter how crooked your nose is, which is true.”
“Nice save.”
“God, I missed you.”
A pause. “Me too.”
We fall into a comfortable silence, the kind I took for granted before I lost it, the peace of sharing space with my husband.
The waves rock the Briar like a cradle, and provide the perfect white noise to whisk Cole off to sleep. I’m torn between letting him drift into painlessness, or keeping him awake with conversation. I don’t want him to break a single bone in his body ever again.
Cole’s cellphone rings from where he left it beside the throttle, making the decision for me.
“That’s probably Finn.” He hops down from the bench and lands with a grunt. “We video chat every day after school.”
“You do?”
“Yeah. Hurry and answer it before it goes to voicemail.”
Finn appears, forehead wrinkled. “Uncle Mor? Where’s Uncle Cole?”
“Hey, Finn,” I say. “Funny meeting you here.”
“Huh?”
“Uncle Mor is making a joke that only old people would understand,” Cole says. “I’m going to take you with me. Uncle Mor needs to focus on driving.”
I rub his lower back as he reaches past me to take his phone.
“The waves are super big. Want to see?” Cole walks toward the co-captain’s chair on the far side of the wheelhouse.
“Yeah!”
The hull groans as we crash down on another wave.
“Woah,” Finn says. “It’s like a roller coaster.”
“Right?” Cole carefully lowers into the co-captain’s seat and perches his feet on the console. “How was your day?”
My heart swells as Finn tells Cole about what he had for lunch and the song he learned at pre-K, sounding happier than I’ve heard in months.
Forget what I said about keeping my guard up. I know Cole as well as I know myself, and I trust him. Rebuilding a relationship with Finn proves how committed he is. Cole is starting to heal, finally coming out of the fog of his grief after months of self-destruction like he did when Dan died.
I wish it hadn’t taken this long to get to where we are. I still can’t believe it, but I’m so grateful. If we hadn’t gone on this trip together, I don’t know how we would have worked things out, if at all.
Cole finishes his call and brings Finn over to say goodbye. Before Cole can return to the couch, I pull him onto my lap, facing outward. He rests back on my chest.
“So how long has this all been going on?” I tighten one arm around him and use my other hand to manage the throttle.
“How long has what been going on?” he asks, all coy and adorable.
“You and Finn.”
“Oh my god. Did Shay tell you?”
“No. Finn didn’t either.”
“He’s probably worried about hurting your feelings. We really need to talk to him about how selfless he is. The red flags were there when he was a toddler. Not a single tantrum.”
I laugh. “I’ll talk to him. Or maybe we both should. We can tell him that we’re back together.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, Sunshine. I’m all in.”
“I’m all in, too.”
“I know you are, but thank you for the reassurance.” I kiss his neck and slide one hand under his shirt. “Mm. You’re so warm.”
He squirms deliciously on my lap. “Hey. Don’t steal my body heat.”
“I thought when we got married, what’s yours became mine and vice versa?”
“Sorry, babe. That only applies to sharing clothes or me stealing your conditioner.” But he doesn’t remove my hand.
We fall silent again, watching the waves.
“I didn’t tell you about Finn because I didn’t want you to think I only started talking to him to get you back,” Cole says.
“Thank you for telling me how abandoning Finn would affect him later. I thought it would hurt him less in the long run if I stayed away, but I was just being selfish.” He swallows audibly, and sniffs.
“Every time I talk to him, I realize how much comfort I could have given him, and it kills me that I didn’t help him when he needed me.
I’m so ashamed of myself. It’s the worst thing I’ve ever done. ”
“Cole...”
He shakes his head. “There’s nothing you can say.”
“Maybe if you come with us to grief counseling, it will help.”
“I doubt that.”
His response is what I expected. Cole never saw a therapist until I dragged him to Dr. Evans. I wasn’t big on therapy either, but the child psychologist assigned to me after my parents died taught me so many coping skills.
When you come from parents who didn’t know how to regulate their emotions, you need a professional to help you learn how to break the cycle. Dan Morrissey was no role model.
“But I want to go to therapy,” Cole continues. “For Finn, I mean. I want to support him as well as you do, even if I have to listen to a counselor tell me how much I fucked up.”
“She’s not going to tell you that. She may even help you forgive yourself.”
“Finn and I are so lucky to have you. I haven’t been the most stable presence. Or any presence. Thanks for looking out for him when I couldn’t.”
“Anytime, Sunshine.”
He goes quiet, but his thoughts are loud, whatever they are. Eventually, he asks, “Do you think he’ll hate me one day when he learns that Seb died saving me?”
“He already knows that. To him, his dad is a hero. You’re his hero too.”
Cole says nothing as I nudge Briar’s nose back into the waves.
“Earlier, you talked to us about bottling things up,” I say.
He tenses in my lap. “Yeah?”
“It made me wonder how much you’ve let yourself think about what happened.”
“Watch that wave,” Cole says.
Unlike Seb, Cole never backseat drives, which means he’s definitely trying to change the subject.
“Cole,” I prod.
“You’re right. I blocked out most of that night and the months after.”
“Start there, then. Let your mind drift where it wants to, even if it hurts. Talking to me and the guys will help too.”
“I’ll try.”
“Good.”
We fall silent again. My vision blurs. I blink slowly. The warm wheelhouse and the comfort of Cole pressed against me like we’re spooning is the perfect recipe for sleep.
“Here, let me take over,” Cole says, climbing off my lap. “You’re doing that slow breathing thing you do right before you fall asleep.”
I yawn. “You sure?”
“Yeah. Go get some rest, and I’ll join you in a few hours.”
“Thanks.” I trade places with him, then kiss his cheek. I pause at the top of the stairs. “Hey, Sunshine?”
He glances over his shoulder. “Hm?”
“Finn has already forgiven you. Seb would have forgiven you too. All that’s left is you.”