10. Nate
Nate
Lady’s tissue filled the circular field beneath the microscope, stained cells suspended in shades of rose and violet against the illuminated glass.
I adjusted the focus by a fraction, bringing the edges into sharper relief.
The sample was clean, the tissue in good condition, and every preliminary indication supported what I had already observed from the Zodiac.
Lady was healthy.
I sat back and blinked.
I was so damn proud of her. My girl had completed the migration back to the Southern Ocean with a calf beside her, a journey fraught with predators, not to mention the dangers of such a months-long swim.
But she was here now. Her first documented calf.
I had followed Lady for years, watched her migrations appear and disappear across maps, learned the shape of her fluke well enough that my sketchbooks were littered with drawings of it.
She was the protagonist of my illustrated children’s book series and had quite a following among elementary school children.
Stretching my back, I reached for my cuppa, only to realize it had grown cold again. Time for some fresh tea. After saving the image from the microscope, I removed the slide and dropped it into the rigid biohazard container beside me.
The analytical lab was where I had holed up over the past two days. Compared to the data suite, I found it less appealing, and yet I had avoided the data suite like the plague since we had returned from the Zodiac outing.
On my way to the tea station, I passed the centrifuge machine, silent for the moment.
There was no one else using the analytical lab, so I had privacy to mope to my heart’s content.
Scientists aboard a research vessel were permitted a certain degree of eccentricity where time was concerned.
No one questioned a person emerging from a laboratory at half past three in the morning.
Obsession was not considered a character flaw aboard the ship.
It was practically an employment requirement. That was working in my favor now.
I had gone back to my cabin only for sleep, although sleep was perhaps an ambitious word for what I had managed there. Most of it had been spent fucking myself with the largest dildo I owned. The one that matched his girth.
Apart from that, I had showered. Changed clothes. When hunger became impossible to ignore, I slipped into the galley between normal meal hours and assembled whatever could be eaten quickly, standing at the counter rather than carrying a tray into the mess.
All of this elaborate avoidance was not in service of science, though. It wasn’t why I was spending my days here instead of in the much more comfortable data suite. The reason was… Landry would be there.
I sighed like a theatrical belle. At the tea station, I made a new cuppa while I went over the moment in the Zodiac for the millionth time.
I had kissed him.
And Landry had kissed me back.
Then he had kissed me.
I had kissed him back, too.
Obviously, after this inexplicable sequence of events, it was entirely reasonable to avoid all human contact for the rest of my days. Especially Landry.
I did not know what I would say if I saw him.
I did not know what he would say.
Worse, I did not know what I wanted him to say.
The door to the lab opened, and a head full of short dark hair peeked in.
“I’m not here. Go away,” I groaned loudly.
Keith did not go away. Instead, he opened the door fully and inserted himself into my precious sanctuary. My dark circles and artfully tousled greasy hair had not fooled Keith. He had figured out very quickly that Lady was not the reason I was lurking like a ghost in the ship’s labs at night.
He closed the door behind him, leaned against it with his arms crossed over his chest, and raised an eyebrow. The quintessential pose of a friend about to grill you.
“What?” I asked, scowling at him.
“Won’t you offer me some coffee?”
“It’s two in the morning.”
“Hmm.”
I made a point of sipping my tea with a loud slurp. Mum would have fainted at such uncouth behavior.
Keith didn’t react. Sadly, he was not only American, but as a former soldier, I doubted I could do anything disgusting enough to repulse him.
He remained where he was, studying me with the patience of a man trained to wait for his enemy for hours.
“What?” I repeated.
“Two days ago,” he said, “you told me you were going to set boundaries.”
I lowered my cup. “I did.”
Keith’s eyebrow climbed higher.
“I literally went up to his face and laid down my boundaries. I behaved like a… a hooligan!”
His mouth twitched.
“And he agreed with me, too. He said, and I quote, I don’t know where you got the idea that I’m interested in you, Braddock, or your opinion, or anything you have to say to me.”
He pushed away from the door and came farther into the lab, stopping on the opposite side of the counter.
I glared at him over the rim of my tea and slurped loudly.
“What happened in the Zodiac did not look much like boundaries from where I was standing.”
Heat climbed into my face with such force that I briefly considered opening the scientific freezer and putting my head inside it.
“It was an… intense moment.”
“I noticed.”
“Lady had returned.” I waved a hand around. “She had a calf. She breached directly beside us. My judgment was temporarily impaired.”
Keith nodded again. “And when he kissed you?”
“My judgment remained impaired.”
“Severely so.”
“Oh, sod off.”
His expression changed then, some of the amusement fading from it.
“Are you saying you like him now?”
“No.”
Keith watched me.
“No,” I repeated. “I still hate him.”
“Then why did you kiss him back?”
My mouth opened. Nothing came out.
Somewhere inside the wall, one of the refrigeration units clicked and began another cooling cycle. I stared down into my tea as though an answer might have settled at the bottom with the leaves.
I looked up and shrugged.
Keith sighed. “I just don’t want you repeating the mistakes of your past.”
I set the cup down harder than necessary. “I know that.”
“Nate.”
“I’m not twenty anymore.”
“That is—”
“I’m serious,” I said. “I know exactly what kind of man Landry is and I’m not falling for it.”
Keith looked at me for another long moment and then nodded. I liked Keith because he respected me. Didn’t treat me like I was fragile or anything—something I was very sensitive to.
“You should get out of here.”
“I am working.”
“You’re hiding.”
“A little hiding is important for the soul.”
He barked a laugh. “Fresh air, Nate. Go up on deck. Walk around. Look at the sky. Remind yourself there’s a world outside this room.”
“At two in the morning,” I grumbled, but I was smiling.
“The sun’s still up in Antarctica.”
That was irritatingly true.
“Fine.” My fight went out with an exhale. He was right.
Finally, he checked the time on his watch. “I’m heading up to the bridge. Third watch.”
“Rather you than me.”
“You’d survive.”
I scoffed. “Put me on the bridge for four hours and we’d all be dead before breakfast.”
He opened the laboratory door and waited for me to join him in the corridor. “You wouldn’t be alone up there. The watch officer handles navigation.”
Before my first Antarctic expedition, I had imagined a research vessel divided neatly into professions.
Sailors sailed. Scientists performed science.
Divers dived. Cooks cooked. Then I had stepped aboard and discovered that a ship carrying only thirty people could not afford such tidy distinctions.
Everyone had a primary job and at least one secondary duty. Sometimes three.
Keith was irritatingly useful. He was our deep-sea diver, one of the strongest people aboard during launch and recovery operations, and the onboard medic.
His military training meant the captain also trusted him on overnight bridge watches, when an extra pair of disciplined eyes mattered more than another academic staring helplessly at a radar screen.
“Just as well. I’d be completely useless.” I emptied the cup in the sink. After rinsing the cup and setting it to dry, I grabbed my heavy parka and followed him into the corridor.
“You help in the galley.”
“Yes, where the worst thing I can do is ruin breakfast for thirty people.”
“Morale is operationally important.”
I side-eyed him as we walked down the corridor. “Are you being extra chirpy because of the whole… you know?”
He grinned. “You mean your cowboy situation?”
I groaned. “Forget I asked.”
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that you didn’t protest the possessive noun this time.”
I shoved him with all my might before turning around and climbing the stairs leading to the upper deck.
* * *
I pushed the heavy door open and stepped through onto the deck of the ship. The cold immediately found every small weakness in my clothing. The ship sat motionless in the channel it had carved through the sea ice.
At two in the morning, the upper deck was usually mine. That was precisely why I came here often. Sometimes to sketch, sometimes to just think. I took a few steps across the deck, already feeling some of the tightness ease from between my shoulders.
I stopped abruptly.
A person was standing at the railing, near the far edge of the helipad, heavy parka broad across the shoulders and a woolen hat pulled low over the head. Both forearms rested on the top rail as the person stared out over the channel.
I scowled at the intruder’s back. That was my spot.
Then he turned. I inhaled sharply.
Landry.
Shite.
My first instinct was to turn around and run.
Too late.
He had seen me.
There was no chance in hell I was turning my back now and scurrying through the door like a startled rodent.
I would rather walk directly into the dark blue water beside the ship.
My shoulders went rigid. My chin rose. What had been a peaceful stroll toward the helipad became a military advance Keith would be proud of watching from the bridge above us.
I hated how Landry always managed to throw off my equilibrium. He was doing my head in and I was reaching my limits.
He watched me approach with a grim set of his stupid square jaw. For some macho reason, he had the jacket sleeves rolled up and his forearms were on display for the whole world.
I went to the railing and stood at a spot far enough that no part of us could accidentally touch, but close enough that it wouldn’t look like I was afraid of him. This was my deck and my ship, dammit.
I turned toward the ice, placed my gloved hands on the railing, and stared straight ahead. He did the same. Okay, fine, if this was how he wanted to play it, I could play along.
The wind moved over the deck. I concentrated very hard on the scenery, but my eyes weren’t registering anything. The silence expanded like an overfilled balloon.
This was fine. I was not bothered. Not at all. Especially not by his veiny brawny forearms. I kept my eyes fixed on the iceberg that had kept the whale skeleton intact for me. The one he was going to help me recover. And the very same man I’d kissed. Twice.
I reminded myself that did not mean every subsequent interaction had to mean anything. We were adults. Professionals. Surely, we could stand here and speak like ordinary colleagues who had never had their mouths on each other.
The silence was killing me. I just needed to say something.
But what if I made a complete arse of myself?
Jesus! Was I even listening to myself right now?
I had two doctorates. I routinely spoke to international research teams, schoolchildren, funding committees, and journalists.
I could manage one sentence to a Texan butthead of a man with annoying veins running down his arms.
Carefully, while giving nothing away, I glanced at Landry from the corner of my eye. His face was carved out of stone. Nothing in his expression suggested friendliness. His lips were set in a straight line, but I had begun to understand some of Landry’s physical language.
He was awkward too.
Okay, that was helpful data.
I took a deep breath and opened my mouth.