12. Nick
Nick
Like usual, there’s no alarm needed. The blip of my handheld radio vaults me out of sleep faster than anything else—a sound I’d respond to while comatose.
Please let it not be for me, I beg as Seth stirs too, his hand traveling up and down my back, his cock waking up against my lower stomach. Just a few more minutes.
“Captain, Captain, Perry.”
Fuck.
“Nice while it lasted,” Seth says groggily, rolling out of bed and helping me sort through the pile of clothes on the ground.
My radio drops out from under a jacket, and I fumble for it, pulling on my sweatpants as I press the button and try to answer the call inconspicuously. “Go ahead, Perry.”
“Can you come confirm if we’re dragging anchor? Not an emergency yet, but we might need to reposition.”
“Okay, start her up. Let out some more scope on the chain. I’m on my way.”
“Copy.”
I pull my hoodie back on over my head, slowing to run my fingers through my snarled hair and check my face in the mirror for… I don’t know what. Some sort of flashing sign that’ll tell the whole world Seth has fundamentally altered something inside of me?
Because it’s so damn obvious to me that I’m not the same man I used to be.
I can see my first mate all over me. My cheeks and forehead are pink, my eyes are brighter, and my lips are roughened by beard burn.
I look like I paddled a canoe through a cyclone in search of spiritual enlightenment—and found it.
I watch Seth in the reflection, pulling on a pair of socks. Tan skin disappearing once more beneath winter clothing, his bed-rumpled hair sticking up. “You don’t need to get up.”
“It’s fine. It’ll go faster, and I’m already awake now. Plus, I think I heard Jorg and Orlov go into the crew mess. I should probably figure out some bullshit to assign them. Get them out of the way.”
Seth yawns, his lips tilting into a heart-meltingly sleepy smile. Happy to do whatever will make me happy. And now, I have clarity about exactly what that is.
Falling asleep beside him, if only for a little while, made me happy. Going out with him and the crew made me happy. Lying beside him on the deck and watching the northern lights made me happy.
But having to cut our night short so no one saw us holding hands? Counting the seconds every time I smiled at him in public and wondering how long was too long? Inventing an excuse to sneak out of his room so that our crew doesn’t find out we’re together?
Happiness shouldn’t have to pay that price.
Fuck what anyone at the docks has to say about me. I don’t care if the older captains call me slurs behind my back or flash condescending smirks to my face. I don’t care if it means I lose my crew and have a bitch of a time replacing them.
Seth is what matters. I’ve spent too many years wishing I could be with him to not give him my all.
“You don’t have to.” I’m even more confident about the decision as the words leave my mouth. “Not for my sake.”
Seth’s smile fades. “You want to tell them?”
“Only if you want to.”
He leans in and kisses me, hard, before pulling back and searching for something. Confirmation, I suppose. Maybe he’ll find a trace of anxiety, but I know for a fact he won’t find doubt.
“Let’s go fix an anchor then,” he says, and pushes the door open.
Orlov and Jorgensen are at the table in the crew mess, a mountain of chips, cookies, and drink cans between them.
Whatever Jorgensen’s saying, it dies on his tongue when he sees us.
The rest of his story buried by a gulp of half-chewed Doritos.
Orlov looks up once, takes us in with the same reaction he’d have to seeing a crab on deck, and reaches back into the chip bag.
“Hey, Cap’.” Jorgensen waves with two orange-dusted fingers, eyes wide as a sculpin. “Didn’t know you were down here.”
Why are you down here? being the unspoken question, but we can put that to rest in a minute. For now, there’s no time to dwell.
“Go ahead to the windlass,” I tell Seth, already climbing up the stairs. “I’ll signal if we need to reset further into the cove.”
“Copy.”
Perry’s at the helm when I come in. I take the wheel and keep an eye on Seth as he steps on deck in a bright yellow windbreaker, getting pelted with rain.
Thankfully, it’s an easy job. The anchor hasn’t drifted much. This bottom should still give us a decent hold. We just have to get it to catch.
As small a victory as it is, I needed this. Proof that I can be exactly who I am. Nicolas Lundvall. Captain, fisherman, son, friend. I can cherish the great outdoors, the ocean, the Suoja, and Seth. Openly. And nothing about the first three has to fall apart because of the last.
Initial panic worn off now that I’ve made my decision, I’m beginning to realize how much effort I’ve put into pretending all these years. The small, subconscious things receding from me like water being pulled from the shore back out to the ocean.
Whatever happens next, happens. But at least I’ll have the inner peace of knowing it happened out of honesty.
“Looks like we’re holding now,” I say to Perry once our location on the chart plotter stops drifting. “Can you come below for a few minutes? Wanted to have a quick crew meeting.”
“Sure,” he says breezily, following me downstairs.
Orlov and Jorgensen are right where we left them, only now, Jorgensen’s got his feet kicked up on the dinette seat and a shit-eating grin on his face. Seth comes in last, shrugging off his windbreaker, kicking off his rubber boots, and shaking out his sopping wet hair.
It takes Perry three seconds to notice that it feels like a staged intervention in here.
“What’s this about?”
Jorgensen can’t help himself. “I don’t know, but I sure hope it has to do with why Rit and Captain were hanging out in his cabin during your watch. And I really hope that whatever they were doing, it involved your bunk.”
Orlov smacks him on the back hard enough to knock the cookie out of his hand.
“Look, I’ll keep this brief,” I say, trying to get a hold on the situation, and by extension, my erratic heartbeat. “Me and Rittenburg are…”
Fuck. This is supposed to be the start of something polished and professional, but I don’t actually know what to call me and Seth.
“Close”? That’s quite the understatement.
A couple? It’s not like we’ve made anything official.
Having mind-blowing sex in every spare moment of our free time?
“Together,” Seth supplies.
“Yes. But I wanted to make it clear that this won’t change anything for our crew here, work-wise. I apologize if you feel misled, but it was never my intention to make things uncomfortable here for any of you.”
“Uncomfortable at work?” Jorg snorts. “Freezing my balls off sorting crabs when it’s rougher than shit out there makes me uncomfortable. Why would I care if you two are fucking?”
“I care!” Perry says, with so much accusation in his tone, I mentally prepare myself to lose my senior deckhand. But then he directs his glare at Seth. “You didn’t let him win at darts, did you?”
Seth snorts out a laugh. “That’s all you care about? Darts?”
“No, as a matter of fact. That’s not all I care about. Because now I’m wondering if I’m fucking blind or something, I owe Orlov a hundred bucks, and I have to build Erin a She Shed.”
“What is a She Shed?” Orlov asks.
“For some women, it’s a small shed converted into a cute little hobby space. For my wife, it’s an 800-square-foot cottage with a detached greenhouse, a painting studio, a loft, a built-in library, and custom furniture because, ‘nothing in the stores matches her style and it’s all cheap garbage.’”
“I hope this teaches you a lesson about gambling,” Seth says.
I’ve imagined all the ways this could transpire countless times. That’s what being a captain is—taking in data and using it to make predictions that inform decisions, which lead to outcomes that begin the cycle all over again.
The one data point I failed to account for is the one I didn’t fully believe until now. Despite how I’ve kept these guys at a distance, Seth was right. To them, I’m a friend.
“Erin started it,” Jorgensen says, as if that absolves the rest of them from participating. “She thought you were lying about Amber because your place didn’t have a ‘woman’s touch’ or whatever when we went over for dinner.”
“I told you guys. Nick is gay.” Orlov crunches down on a sandwich cookie. “I was not so sure about you Seth, until I saw you making glazki at Captain all the time.”
Russian isn’t my forte. I have no idea what glazki means, and at this rate, I’m not sure if I want to know. Not if it’s the reason his gaydar pinged for me before Seth.
Seth asks anyway. “Glazki?”
“That.” Orlov gestures between our faces. “What you are doing at him right now. Stroit glazki. The eyes.”
I try to find whatever Orlov’s talking about from across the room, but I think I already know.
I think it’s the look he gives me right before I kiss him and right after I pull away.
The same glimmer that appears when he’s calling me Nicky.
Teasing me. Watching me tend to his hand injury. Gifting me a pair of gloves.
Jorgensen shakes his head. “Can’t believe you were right.”
“Is amazing what you can notice when you are not talking all the time.”
He presses his tongue to his top lip and leans with his elbows on the table. “You and Perry wanna go double or nothing to settle who tops? My money’s on Cap’.”
I don’t dare look at Seth, but I swear I have a sixth sense for his smirk.
“I’ll take that bet,” Perry says.
“Shut up. No more bets,” Orlov snaps. Frowning at both of them before he… smiles? Actually smiles at us. With both sides of his mouth. “You are great manager, Seth. And Lundvall, the best Captain I’ve ever worked for. If you are both happy, we are happy.”
“Right, yes,” Jorg says. “Love is love, and all that good shit.”
“Obviously.” Perry slings an arm around my shoulder and drags me over to sling the other around Seth. “That’s why this is looooove gambling. It’s different.”
There’s nothing serious about his tone, but I latch onto that word no matter how joking it is.
Love.
I’ve gone out on the water without a nav system before. There’s something wistful about it, making your way by cardinal directions and landmarks like sailors did long ago.
That’s what I’ve been doing with Seth all along, I realize. Charting my course with him as my guiding star. No idea what the coordinates of my destination were until now.
I shrug Perry off with what I hope is the bearing of a man still technically in command of something. The vessel and this crew, if not my own self. “Okay, that’s enough. You’ve still got two more hours on anchor watch.”
“Yes, sir.” He punches Seth’s shoulder, grinning like he’s won something even though, evidently, he’s in the red. “Enjoy your two hours on break.”
“Oh, I will,” Seth says shamelessly.
Openness is going to take some getting used to. No lowered voices, no checking over our shoulders. No privacy, with this group.
But I have to say… no guilt feels good. No lies, no hiding, and no judgment. For that, I’ve never felt more bonded to anyone than I am to these guys.
“Thank you,” I say to Orlov and Jorgensen, who are still making a hearty dent in our provisions like a pair of bilge rats. “I wasn’t sure if I’d ever have a crew I could talk to about this. I appreciate you guys.”
“And we appreciate you.” Jorgensen salutes with a chip. “Speaking of—when’s dinner?”
“Fend for yourselves tonight.” Seth takes my hand. “We’re going back to sleep.”
I pull him toward the wheelhouse stairs. “Captain’s quarters, this time?”
“Hell yeah.”