36. Reid
I have been running my entire life.
Whether from my father, life, responsibilities . . .
Now, it’s starting to catch up to me.
The waters up here are cold and harsh. The winds are stronger than any storm I’ve ever been out in and I can’t escape the feeling that at any second, the ship’s going to capsize. The way it rocks . . . it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced.
The other guys all seem used to this. A couple are new to the Stargazer (stupid name for a ship), but all but me have been on these waters their entire life.
So, why the fuck was I picked to be their captain?
Life sucks here and I know you probably don’t want to hear it—not that you’ll ever read this, anyway, but I miss home. I miss Port Nova. I miss the waters. Hope’s Grace and the lobsters. Fuck, I miss you.
I know you probably hate me, leaving like I did, but . . . I couldn’t say goodbye. Still can’t. I refuse to accept that you’re gone. Call me selfish, but I can’t do it.
I never claimed to be a strong man. I think that’s pretty evident in the way I can’t stay in one place too long. All I know is I can’t stop thinking about you. I can’t get your scent out of my head, like you’re a ghost, hanging around the dark and dusty confines of the captain’s quarters of the ship.
I’ve committed every inch of you to memory, like a fucking lunatic, but it’s not enough. You’ve got a freckle on your ankle. You’ve got a little, almost invisible, scar on your hip. The way your eyes are blue, but just in the very center, there’s this fucking green that lights them up when you’re looking at me.
I remember it all.
I can’t tell you how many times I’ve thought about leaving at the next port. I won’t, but that thought’s still there, festering until it keeps me up at night.
At some point, I have to make the decision. Whether to leave you in the past to move on or come back and try to salvage whatever that was between us.
Because what the fuck was it, Nova?
Am I fucking in love with you? What does it feel like? I can’t really articulate what I’m feeling. I’m not as smart as you. What I do know, without a doubt though, is I can’t go a single fucking second on this ship without feeling like there’s a hole in my chest.
I know you’d probably tell me I’m crazy. That we made a deal. The summer. That was it. The end.
But what if I came home and you were having the same thoughts I am?
What if we settled down. Bought that big fucking house and made it our own?
What if we had babies that had your smile, my hair, and your eyes?
I know. A lot of what if’s for the man who left you alone in the middle of the night.
What do you do when life finally gives you everything you’ve been asking for?
And then you give it back?
I just . . . fuck.
Emptiness.
That’s all that’s on the Bering Sea.
I wake up before dawn when the water is pitch black, like a void, calling out to the ship.
I leave the captain’s quarters after dusk, when the water has returned to its darkness and all that’s left is the endless void that stretches on into nothingness.
I . . . need her.
There’s a craving in my stomach—an ache in my chest that won’t go away.
I can’t sleep. I can’t eat.
I’m a husk of the man I once was and it’s all because I left my heart on an island in the Atlantic with a girl whose eyes shine like the night stars and who’s smile is the only thing I can see when I close my eyes.
I fucking hate it here.
It’s cold. Miserable. Lonely.
Fuck, is it lonely.
Nova’s across the world, but she may as well be on another planet.
God, I’d give anything to see her smile again. Feel her warmth.
The men here are rough, all just as lonely as I am. We’ve left the people that mean the most to us to come out and do a job where we may not make it home.
I’ve heard the stories. Ships sink all the time out here on the choppy waters. There’s no stopping it. No land for miles. Just you and the water.
I used to love that . . . being alone on the sea.
Now, I fucking hate it.
Perhaps it’s just the permanent ache that’s developed in my chest from the loss of Nova. Maybe it’s the Bering Sea. Maybe I’m just not cut out for this anymore.
Running.
I’ve been running since I was sixteen. Unlike Nova, I was too afraid to face those demons that drove me from my past and consequently, they robbed me of time.
If I’d had that time, though, I know I would have spent all of it searching for her.
The girl with the pretty ocean eyes who looked up at me with so much fear the night I dragged her lifeless body from the Mississippi.
Because she was the end for me.
“Where’d you come from?”
I pause, not sure if I’d heard the kid that steps up into the wheelhouse correctly. So far, no one has really spoken to me, despite work. No one really speaks at all, unless it’s about the crab, the water, or how tired they are.
“Uh. North Carolina, originally.”
He smirks, leaning back in the co-pilot’s chair and propping his feet up on the desk. He studies me for a moment, almost as if he’s waiting for me to say something, but honestly, I don’t give a shit what he does, so long as he leaves me alone.
“Originally? You some kind of world traveler?”
“Something like that.”
“I only ask because I’ve never seen you around here, before. It’s a pretty tight-knit community, even with Big Crab coming in and trying to wipe out the little guys.”
“Big Crab?”
“Yeah.” He shrugs. “This ship. All the ones some big company owns that they send us out on every season. Shit companies, if you ask me.”
“So, why are you here?”
“Well,” he sighs heavily, as if it’s the longest story. I hope to God he doesn’t decide to tell it. Reaching into his back pocket, he pulls out his wallet. Why he’s carrying it, I can’t say I know. Mine’s locked in my safe because I don’t need it when the nearest spot of land is miles away. He opens it up, pulling out a crinkled picture and handing it to me.
I take it, looking at what must be his family. A young woman, a little boy, and a baby girl.
“What’s this?”
“Mine.”
He says it so seriously, it’s hard to think of him as just a kid anymore. He may be a couple years younger than me, but he’s got his priorities figured out where I’m still struggling to fall asleep every night because I left mine behind.
“Cute kids.” I hand him the picture back and he takes it, his gaze coasting over their faces as if he’s memorizing them.
“Thanks. Don’t be checking out my wife, either.”
“Wouldn’t dream of it.”
He stares at me again, probably speculating.
“So, what’s your deal, Cap?” he asks, sitting forward, eyes still on the picture between his fingers. “You got a family?”
Not anymore. This summer, though . . . those people were the closest I’ve ever come.
“No.”
“No wife? Girlfriend?”
“Why the interrogation?”
“Shit,” he laughs. “Sorry, man. I’m not good with people.”
“Me either,” I admit, and then, just because it doesn’t matter in the end. “I left her to come here.”
“Broke up with her to come here?”
“No, it was never a permanent thing. Just passing through her town and settled down for a month or two.”
“You love her?”
Fuck.
“It’s just . . . I saw her picture above your bed.”
“Why were you in my room?”
He holds up his hands in defense. “Just fixing the toilet.”
“It’s just a picture.”
He blows out a sharp breath. “Man, you are one tough bitch to crack. You know, first time I came out here, the boat my cousin was working on sank. Scared me so bad, I almost quit.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“Because this is what my dad did. And his dad before him. We got back to port and I called my wife, fiancé at the time, telling her I was coming home and she told me I better not.” He chuckles. “She knew this was my dream. I always looked up to my dad. He always kept food on the table. Roof over our heads. We were warm at home while he was out here in the freezing cold. Can’t fault him for those winters away because of how great he made the summers, being home.”
“That’s why you work for Big Crab, then? Your family?”
He nods sheepishly. “Pay is better. I’d rather have my own boat, but shit gets expensive.” He props the picture up in front of him on the dash watching them with a longing I’ve come to know all too fucking well. “I want to make them proud, like my dad did me.”
A pit opens in the bottom of my stomach. Before I left, Pap told me I better make him proud. I knew I’d never see him again, but I promised him anyway. Now, I can’t escape the sinking feeling that maybe he meant something else.
“I’m sure you’re a good dad,” I murmur, scrubbing a hand over my mouth so he can’t see the emotions rattling through my brain. I’ve remained a statue on this ship. If the men notice you’re going through shit, they’ll take advantage of that.
“I want to be a great dad,” he grunts quietly. “My son, Elias, is three. I want to show him how you should care for your woman. Your family. Never thought I’d have a son, but here I am.”
“Scared?”
“Of dying? Sinking?” he asks.
“Not going home.”
He pauses for a long moment. He looks out over the water to the ship down below where the guys are hauling crab pots out of the water and sorting through the catch.
“If I think about it too much, I’ll scare myself into wanting to go home. If I focus on what’s important—for them, I can do anything.” He leans forward, reaching out to shake my hand. “Jack, by the way. But everyone calls me Trout.”
“Reid,” I murmur, shaking his hand and trying to shake off the eerie, unsettling feeling I get as that name hits my ears.
Jack. Fucking Jack.
“Well, Reid. I’m glad you’re here. No matter what you’re running from.”
I almost tell him I’m not running from shit, but then I realize, there’s no point. I’ve been running my whole fucking life.
“Just so you know,” he starts when I get up to go lay down and stare at the fucking ceiling in my cabin for the next six hours when I should be asleep. “Everyone here has been where you’re at. You’ve just got to decide if you can live without her.”
I don’t respond because there’s nothing to say.
We’re both in the same boat, literally and figuratively. He’s got a family waiting at home. I walked away from the best fucking thing that’s ever happened to me to chase a pipe dream.
Somehow, though, we both fall asleep staring at a picture at the end of the day.
That night, I find myself sitting out on the deck, out of view of the wheelhouse while I smoke a cigarette. A habit I picked up on the full hours spent in the captain’s chair.
Every time I light one, I think about how Nova would hate it and something about that amuses me.
I’ve got the suit on and it keeps me relatively warm despite the frigid cold waters splashing around me. I don’t mind the cold, though, because it reminds me I’m still alive, regardless of how this place feels like purgatory.
It’s where I come when I can’t sleep and tonight is no exception.
I keep replaying what the kid said over and over and try to come up with a logical plan for the rest of my life.
I’ve never had a fucking plan before, so I have no idea what I’m doing.
The stars overhead don’t offer much comfort. You see that shit in the movies where they talk about no matter the distance between two people, they can look up and see the same stars.
Fucking bullshit.
Nova’s across the county, sleeping under a Maine sky in a warm bed. Probably cuddled up with Toast and Creamsicle. Probably settled into her new life without me.
Does she think of me? Have I carved out a little spot in her mind where she wonders what it would have been like if I would have stayed? Does she hate me for everything I couldn’t be?
She deserves better than me, for what it’s worth. The way she would look at me, you would have thought I hung the fucking moon. I didn’t deserve her. Not in the way she gave herself to me. Not in the way she gave herself to Jack.
Two men, in love with the same woman, but neither able to give her the life she deserves. One dead, one above despite the cavity in my chest.
It’s a fucking joke, isn’t it?
Cold water splashes my face, but I don’t move. I’m too trapped in my own thoughts, wondering what she’s been doing that it’s almost welcome. A jolt to bring me back to reality before I get lost in her for too long.
Do you love her?
Trout’s words filter back to mind and I wish he were here so I could punch him for putting the thought in my head.
Do I love Nova? Is that what this is?
Fuck, if this is love, why does it hurt so damned bad?
Perhaps, at the end of the day, I do.
No, fuck that. I know I do. I have no fucking idea how to navigate it. I love Nova more than I’ve ever loved anything in this fucking life. More than Hope’s Grace. More than the freedom it granted me. More than the ocean.
I want to scream, to release some of this pent-up anger and frustration, but I can’t.
I should be there. At home. I should be with her, holding her while we sleep.
North Carolina was never home. I know that. Dad wasn’t a father and I with a sinking gut, I realize, I did what I had to do. If I didn’t, he would have killed me. Living the way we were is like playing Russian roulette, only you’re the only player and the other person’s holding the gun. Dad didn’t deserve me or mom. That doesn’t mean I have to be the man he was.
For a blip in time, I had it all.
And now it’s gone.
There’s no going back. Only forward. I’ve built a life around Mom’s old mantra. One Nova doesn’t fit into. No matter how much I fucking love her, I know I can’t make her happy. I’ll ruin her.
And that’s probably the biggest fucking joke of all.
“You look like shit,” Copper, my firsthand, sits down in the co-pilot seat beside me, setting a mug of black coffee on the desk in front of me with a thunk that splashes some over the side. Of all the men on board, Copper is the only one I’ve really spoken too besides the kid. “Too much to drink last night?”
I shake my head, nodding my thanks before taking a sip of the nasty brown bean juice. I’ve always hated coffee, but it kept me warm on the Atlantic. It’s never tasted good to me, but I was also raised that when someone gives you something to eat, you take it.
“I don’t drink.”
It’s a lie, though it’s not far off anymore. I haven’t had anything to drink since this summer. I have a feeling once I start, I won’t want to stop the numbness it gives me, so I just stay clear.
I can’t end up like my dad. Bitter and drunk over the woman he lost.
Plus, I’ve got a ship to run.
“Well, perhaps it’s too much time out on the deck at night.”
Well, shit.
“Yeah, I seen you,” he chuckles, running a hand through his beard. “It’s dangerous to be out there by yourself. You fall over, that’s it. Whatever problem you’ve been stewing over won’t matter anymore. You’ve got to get you some sleep. Can’t have you falling asleep at the wheel.”
“Yeah, I’ll work on it.”
He fixes me with a bored stare that reminds me of Al.
“You know, life out here’s rough.”
“Yeah,” I grumble, watching the guys haul pots on board and empty the crabs onto the sorting table in front of them. It’s the same thing day in and day out. Pull them up, throw back the small ones. When we’ve run out of pots to pick up, we load them with bait and start over.
“It ain’t for everybody,” Copper grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Water’s rough. Cold. Deadly. I’ve lost a lot of friends out here. Good men, too.”
My eyes catch on the kid, out on the dock as he struggles with a pot. The boat rocks, the water worse today than it has been with a coming storm.
“What’s he doing?”
Copper follows my line of sight, his gaze narrowing on Trout as the boat shifts in the treacherous waves.
“Fuckin’ kids,” Copper grumbles, reaching for the mic beside his head.
“Trout, what the fuck are—”
He’s cut off when the pots slip with the next wave, the top few crashing into the ocean, the bottom ones shoving Trout over the edge.
For a single moment, everything freezes.
Then everyone springs into action.
“Man overboard!” Copper hollers into the microphone. I jump from my chair, tossing my hat on the desk and storming for the door.
I don’t think. I just go.
“Stay here,” I grit, storming out of the wheelhouse and down to the deck. It’s freezing out, the temperatures so cold the ice on the railings is starting to turn a translucent white as it thickens.
The men are scurrying around, trying to get Trout to catch onto the buoy they’re throwing at him, but he’s too far away and struggling to grab ahold.
What would my dad do?
Jump.
Fuck it.
Tugging my sweatshirt over my head and then kicking off my boots so they don’t weigh me down, I push my way to the rail, take the buoy out of someone’s hand and dive before any of them can stop me.
The water is like a thousand needles prickling my skin the moment I touch the surface.
It’s one thing to get sprayed from the deck. It’s something else entirely to completely immerse yourself in it.
I can barely make out the shouting from behind me over the roaring of the waves as I swim for Trout. I grab his hand, tugging him closer, and motion for them to pull us back. Trout’s already shivering as the water steals the heat from his body and I’m not far off as they haul us back to the boat.
As soon as we’re there, they toss the rope ladder over and I force Trout up first. Once he’s out, I follow suit, the air actually feeling warm to my skin when I’m out of the water.
“You fuckin’ idiots! Get them inside!” Copper screeches like a banshee from the wheelhouse.
I’m shoved inside and into the mess hall, and I strip my frozen clothes off as the rest of the guys do the same to Trout.
“You with me, buddy?” Frisker, a deckhand asks, forcing Trout to look at him. Trout nods slowly, wrapping himself in the blanket they place around his shoulders.
I know that look. He’s spooked. His family. They could have lost him today.
“You got to get home for those babies you got,” Frisker says and it’s then that the reality of the situation dawns on me. Both of us could have died today. It’s only a fucking miracle and good deckhands that we made it out alive.
“Pretty fucking stupid of you, Cap.” Trout’s eyes narrow on me, as though he’s pissed at me for coming in after him.
I shrug.
Pretty fucking stupid, indeed.
I scrub a hand over my face, shrugging off the blanket they try to wrap around me. I’ve got to get out of here.
This isn’t the place for me.
“You alright?” Frisker asks, staring at me intently.
We’ll be making port in less than three hours.
“I need to go home.”
Frisker doesn’t move for a beat, watching me as if I’ve suddenly grown three heads.
Nova. I need to get to Nova.
“Cap?” Trout asks, eyes wide.
Trout almost lost the only thing that matters to him in the world.
I almost did too. He can fall asleep looking at a picture every night all he wants. I want the real thing.
“I’m going home,” I repeat, before turning and walking out of the mess hall and up to my bunk to pack.
When I pluck Nova’s picture off the wall above my bed, I stare at it for a moment. In three hours, I’m free to go find her.
And I will find her.
Whether in an island village or New York City, I’ll always find her.
Because she’s mine.
The cemetery where Jack is buried is an eerie place.
I feel like I’m being watched by any number of the statues surrounding long forgotten graves as I step through to find the one I want.
I have no idea where I’m going. I don’t even know why I’m here. All I know is I have to do this before I can go home to Nova.
Before I ask her to be mine, I have to get something off my chest.
A large statue of an angel sits in the center, her judgmental eyes following me as though I’m a lowly scoundrel and she is the watcher, protecting this place. As if she knows what my life has been and doesn’t approve.
Carry was pissed when we docked in Dutch Harbor, and I told him I’d be leaving. He cursed me up and down the dock, but I can’t really blame him. Nor do I give a fuck.
Not a single thing he said could have made me turn back around and get back on that fucking boat. Not after that fucking hell of a wake-up call.
I can run to the farthest reaches of the earth. My home will still be on that dingy little island, surrounded by those people that took me in and made me one of their own. My heart has rested in Port Nova since I left. I’m here to get it back.
I spot Jack’s last name—the only reason I know it’s him is because I stopped and checked in at the front office before making the trek back here.
I almost turn to leave, but I flew all day yesterday and I’m not about to give up now.
Is it stupid to talk to a grave? Someone I don’t even know?
Hey, you don’t know me, but I just came to tell you I plan to hijack your wife from you. Hope that’s cool.
“What that fuck am I doing?” I grit under my breath, but I look around, scanning the grounds and it’s just me here.
The first snow has fallen. Not enough to matter, but enough to cover the base of the tombstone up. So, I drop to my haunches and start brushing away the powder, clenching my teeth as I do.
“I don’t like you,” I murmur, feeling like a goddamned child the moment it’s out of my mouth. “Jesus Christ,” I sigh, running a hand over my face.
Jack doesn’t respond, of course.
Am I losing my fucking mind? Out here talking to graves like they can give me any answers?
“You know what?” I snap, determined to get this out. “Fuck it. You were a shit husband. There. I said it. I don’t care what your excuses are. I don’t care if Nova forgives you. I don’t. You hurt the person I care about most in this world and for that, I want to say fuck you.”
It feels good to say what I’ve wanted to since I learned all that was Jack Marshall. Golden boy. Shit husband. Undeserving martyr.
I sit back on my haunches, looking at the last name etched plainly in the gray marble.
“I’m in love with your wife.”
If he were here, he’d probably knock my ass out. I know I would.
“I’m in love with Nova and I’m going to ask her if she’s in love with me. I’m not asking your permission, but I’m telling you. Man to man, even if you can’t fucking hear me.”
I suck in a deep breath, my chest growing tight with the adrenaline high I’ve been on since I left Alaska slowly starting to crash.
“She’s a good girl,” I murmur, more to myself than the bones beneath me. “She deserves the fucking world, and I might not be able to give that to her, but I’ll damn sure try.”
I pause, not sure what else to say.
I thought this would be harder, but it turns out, I’ve said all I needed to and now the only thing left is just . . . nothing. No remorse. No sympathy.
When the person you’re pissed off at isn’t there to hear you scream, are you really saying anything at all?
“Jesus Christ, this is stupid,” I grit, standing to leave, but a throat clearing stops me.
I jump. It’s not every day someone sneaks up on me, but the older woman standing a couple feet back somehow managed to do just that.
“Are you yelling at my son?’
Well, fuck.
She looks like I would expect money to look like. Fancy clothes. Light hair. Like caramel, dotted with streaks of gray around her face. I’ve seen one picture of Jack and I can say he was the exact replica of his mother.
I clear my throat, working to swallow past the lump in my throat. “More like telling him aggressively.”
She doesn’t make a move and neither do I. The silence stretches on so long I almost just turn and leave, but finally she gives me this sad, half-smile.
“You’re Reid, aren’t you?”
I don’t know how the fuck she knows my name, but I nod, just the same.
“I figured.” She looks past me at Jack’s grave, a grim solace in her eyes that almost makes me feel guilty for coming here at all. “Did you know, Jack hated Maine?”
“No,” I murmur, my voice gruff.
“Well, he did. I should have buried him somewhere else. Somewhere not so dreary.”
“Ma’am, I apologize for what you might have hear—”
She waves me off before I can even finish. “We all have something to get off our chests, Reid. I take it Alaska didn’t go the way you wanted?”
“It went exactly the way it was supposed to.”
“Turns out, there’s more to life than work, huh?”
“Turns out, there’s something here that I need.”
Her eyebrows raise for a moment, then her eyes flash with something close to pride. “Nova is a sweet girl, Reid. I wasn’t a good person. I’m sure you’ve heard that.”
“Nova never said anything bad about you.”
“Well,” she sniffs, resigning herself to the notion that Nova is just a better person than her. Than all of us. “Do you have time for a chat?”
I look at my watch. I need to get to Nova.
“She’ll still be there when you’re done. You haven’t gone to see her yet, have you?”
I shake my head, though delaying my return to Port Nova isn’t something I really want to do.
“Well, then you’d better hear this before you do. It’s important.”
I steel myself. I want to go to her, but I also want to know what this woman has to say if it pertains to Nova. Maybe she’ll tell me Nova’s moved on. Maybe she’ll try to tell me all the stories about Jack aren’t true even if I’ve seen the evidence.
Either way, I need to hear it.
Fuck.
I gesture toward a park bench.
“Lead the way . . .”
“Anne,” she smiles. “It’s Anne.”
I’ve only ridden the ferry from Port Nova one time and that was to leave this place. Now, coming back, it seems surreal to watch the island come into view. The tall lighthouse shines through the fog in the early hours of a cold November day like a beacon of hope.
Like something more is to come.
After talking with Anne, I took the night to pull myself together. So many lies. So many secrets and for what? To make an already dying man feel better? To make the woman he left behind hate herself until she was haunted by the memories of him?
I made a promise to myself, more than anyone, last night. I’ll never be what my dad was. What Jack was. I’ll never take her for granted again, because I’ve been to the other side of that dark place where she doesn’t exist in my life anymore.
It’s bleak. Nothing. Empty.
I used to think love was beneath me. Now, coming home, I can see I was searching for it the entire time I was on my own, I just never found anyone that showed me what the true meaning of the word meant. It’s not flowers and sex. It’s the real, raw, hard shit you go through together. The whispered apologies and the sharing of your deepest fucking secrets and accepting them as they are.
It’s not perfect, but that’s what makes it perfect.
I know now, I had to leave her to realize what the hell I was missing in this life. If I’d never broken down near here, I would have never found that. I’m sure of it. Just like if I didn’t watch my father drown that night in North Carolina, he would have killed me.
Maybe I’m not a monster. Maybe, like Nova, I’ve just had a lot of fucked up shit happen to me and I had no idea how to process any of it.
Jesus, I sound like a therapist.
As the ferry nears the island, I’m the first one off of the four traveling here this morning. I don’t recognize any of them and I’m glad. I want to see Nova. I don’t want them running off and telling her I’m home, but I can still feel their gazes on me as I step off the ferry.
The town is still asleep at eight in the morning, which means it’s a weekend day. Coming back to the mainland after my time out at sea has my days all mixed up, but I can see the coffee shop’s not open yet. I can see the inn isn’t bright and cheery. Houses are still mostly dark and there are too many boats in the harbor to warrant a weekday.
Perfect. That means I won’t have to speak to anyone until I see her.
I make my way up the back path toward the cottage and everything feels like waking up from a fever dream. There’s more snow here and I can see the path hasn’t been disturbed in a few days. No footprints break the surface and even the porch light that’s always on is off.
A sinking feeling sets in.
The cottage is dark, but it’s exactly the way it was when I left. Porch swing where we used to sit and talk. The handprints of Nova’s on the front porch steps, faded from decades of wear and weather. Fuck, it even smells like home.
I steel myself, knocking on the door before I step back, waiting for the footsteps or the bark of Toast.
Only it never comes.
I stand there for what feels like a lifetime, heart pounding in my chest, but she doesn’t answer. I don’t hear a single sound from inside.
I try knocking again, but it’s no use. She’s not here.
“Fuck,” I curse under my breath, turning back toward the inn. She could be there, though she always hated the early shifts. Probably because I kept her up so late, but maybe she’s changed since I left. I stride back down the hill, hoping to hear the door of the cottage open behind me and a sleepy soft voice call my name.
That also never comes.
I’m just about to step in the back door of the inn when the familiar smell of pipe tobacco wafts from the back of the building. Slowly, I walk toward the back door by the kitchen and see Pap, sitting on his usual bench where he and I used to have all our daily talks. Talks about life. About loss. Our childhoods. Nova. It all seems like it happened so long ago.
He regards me with indifference, like he always does, puffing out a cloud of smoke and watching me.
“‘Bout time. I’ve been waiting out here for ten minutes.”
I step forward, feeling like I’m twelve goddamn years old again, waiting for the beating of a lifetime from my dad. I think that’s what drew me to Pap. He reminded me of Dad before the liquor got the better of him. He was never too emotional. He never yelled. But I could talk to him. After Mom died . . . so did he.
“You were waiting for me?”
“Saw you come up the drive,” he says, scooting over to allow me to sit beside him. I don’t want to sit. I want to find Nova.
“Where is she, Pap?”
“Well,” he pauses, pushing his horn-rimmed glasses up his nose. “She’s not here.”
“Fuck.” The world spins around me and for the first time in my life, I want to punch a wall. Kick something. Anything.
“Now, calm down. Take a seat.”
“I don’t want to sit.”
“I don’t care. Take a seat.”
Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
“Where did she go?”
“To find you, asshole.”
To find me?
“Yeah,” he murmurs when I stare at him blankly, crossing his arms over his chest and nodding his head. “Went to Alaska about three days ago. Haven’t heard from her.”
“Fuck,” I mutter, leaning forward and resting my elbows on my knees. The day I fucking left.
She came looking for me and here I am chasing her.
“She’ll be back. You’ve got to get your head straight, kid. What do you want?”
“Her,” I admit out loud for the first time.
“Well, then you better be ready because Nova is a force to be reckoned with.”
“I know.”
“You are too. You two are like the wind and the water, meeting in the middle,” he murmurs, shaking his head as he looks out over the ocean. Finally, when he turns to look at me, he’s got that knowing, forlorn look on his face, as if he can read me like a book. “Something happened out there. Scared you, didn’t it?”
I nod, following his gaze across the water to where one lonely boat floats along the coast.
“Kid fell overboard.”
“And?”
“And I jumped in after him.”
“Both of you could have died,” he says, so matter of fact. “A real wake up call, huh?”
I nod once, clasping my fingers. I feel like I’ve come to the ends of the earth and now I have no fucking clue where to go next. Will Nova come back here? Will she make it to Alaska and find out I left and just . . . give up?
“Well, when you know it’s time to go, it’s time to go.”
“What am I going to do, Pap?”
“Well, the way I see it. You’ve only got one option . . . Wait.”
I don’t want to wait. I want to go find her. Fall to my knees and fucking grovel if that’s what it takes because I fucked up leaving this island.
I should have never left her.
“You owe me a ride on Hope’s Grace this next summer, by the way.”
Fuck. Hope’s Grace. I’ve been in such a hurry to get to Nova, I haven’t thought about the boat, at all.
“I sold her. She’s gone.”
“I know you did,” Pap says. He reaches into his pocket, producing the key and pulling it up by the old metal anchor that has always been attached.
“It was you.” Disbelief coils through me. Then shock. Then awe. Then a new type of love. Family. This is what family is supposed to be like.
When I sold the boat, Al took care of everything. Said he’d found a “real good home for her”.
Now, everything is starting to make sense.
“Yeah, well, I knew you’d need it when you got back home.”
“You old bastard,” I chuckle and he smirks, dropping the key in my palm. “You knew I’d come back. How?”
“I saw how you loved Nova. Saw how well you fit in around here.” He pauses, looking back toward the inn for a split second. “Love like that don’t come around too often. Especially not for dirty fishermen like us.”
He pats my knee and moves to stand, his cane wobbling under his weight. Toast jumps up, ready to follow him wherever they’re going.
“Now, go get your room back. You’ve got some thinking to do.”
“Thinking?”
I’ve already thought long and hard about this. There’s nothing left to think about.
“About how you’re going to live the rest of your life.”