“What about me?” Sloan asks, feigning a pout, and Lio giggles.
“No, it’s just for boys this time,” he tells her, and Sloan gasps dramatically.
Fuck, I love her.
“You little traitor,” she accuses playfully, scooping him up and turning him upside down. “Say that again!” Lio’s laughter fills the room as she carries him off toward the living room. “Bye, Daddy!” he yells, still giggling.
I turn to Hunter, who looks at me with a knowing gaze. “You good, bro?” he asks, understanding I’m anything but.
“Sure, see you later?” I reply, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.
“Yeah, we’ll make pasta for dinner,” he says with a smile.
“Can’t wait.” Letting him go, I head out to the car, where Nash is already waiting in the passenger seat.
We stop at the shipyard for Nash to change into his fishing bibs, and my heart is pounding against my chest. It’s been years since I last set foot on a boat, and the idea of going back out there stirs a deep-seated fear in me.
Nash is chattering, but it all goes right over my head. All I can do is try to concentrate on what I’m about to do and not freak out.
As we approach the harbor, my steps become heavier. The sight ofThe Saylorwaiting at the dock makes my knees feel like jelly. I take a deep breath, trying to steady myself, and Nash throws me a knowing look but says nothing.
“Come on, you got this,” I mutter, stepping onto the boat. My knees buckle slightly, but I manage to regain my balance. I breathe through the panic, reminding myself I’m a fantastic captain.
Or at least I was.
Onboard, we meet Sebastian, the greenhorn, and Steven, another of Nash’s yearlong crewmates. I don’t know Sebastian or Steven very well, but he’s always been reliable with Tim. He’s quiet, which I appreciated in the past.
Once inside the wheelhouse, I take more deep breaths in an attempt to slow my racing heart while Nash and the others loosen the ropes. My breath falters as the boat starts to move, the harsh wind hitting us, but it’s manageable. I give myself a shake to dispel the nerves that have been prevalent since agreeing to this, taking the helm and feeling the boat respond to my touch.
It’s like I never stopped. Like these past seven years were just a brief pause. The nervousness begins to fade, replaced by a growing confidence.
I still have it.
Nash, sensing my easing tension, starts to tease, “Look at you, man, back at sea. Did you forget how to swim too?”
I can’t help but chuckle. “Only one way to find out. You first.”
His laughter mixes with the sound of the waves, the banter helping, and I find myself relaxing more, the familiarity of the ocean comforting.
There was a time when nothing felt more like home than this.
As the water grows rougher, I focus on navigating the ship. It’s a challenge, but one that makes my blood pump in a good way. The feeling of being in control, of mastering the waves and wind, it’s something I’d forgotten how much I loved.
“Doing good, Maestro,” Nash calls out over the wind, a grin on his face.
“Shut up and get those lobsters, Fingers,” I yell back, a smile creeping onto my face. The fear and doubt are still lurking in the back of my mind, but for now, they’re overshadowed by the thrill of being back where I belong—at sea, at the helm of my boat, with my brother by my side.
But after maybe an hour or two, the weather shifts abruptly. Dark clouds roll in, bringing with them a violent storm that takes us all by surprise. Panic starts to seep back into my veins, and all I can think is that this is how it started last time.
“Not again, please God, not again,” I pray, trying to push back the rising tide of fear while I change course, trying to return to the harbor as fast as possible.
Fuck that delivery.
The sea turns treacherous, waves crashing against the hull with force. The wind howls like a beast unleashed, tearingthrough the air with a deafening roar. I can barely hear the shouts of the crew over the racket, their voices lost in the storm.
I grip the wheel, fighting to keepThe Saylorfrom capsizing. Reality and memories start to blur, each wave bringing flashes of that fateful day, making it hard to focus. Hard to think straight. I try to radio the harbor, but the signal is lost in the storm, and we’re being pushed farther away by the relentless current. No matter what I try, we’re getting pushed out instead of back in.
The protocol would be to steer us out to the ocean to position ourselves behind the storm, but since I checked the weather forecast religiously last night, I know there is nobehindfor miles. It’s a big storm, and we would have to go way too far out.
