Page 60 of Secrets on Ice

Cassidy and I are sharing a room on this trip. We dump our bags in our room and head back down to the lobby to go exploring. The five of us start walking down the postcard-worthy main street. The guys get stopped for autographs, and there is even some paparazzi around for the wedding. We duck into an art gallery to get away from them. Cassidy and I lose our minds in an antique store the size of a shoebox while the boys wait outside eating ice cream like three enormous children. I come out with a brass ship's lamp for the apartment and no regrets.

"What is that?" Sully asks.

"It's a ship's lamp."

"But we don't have a ship."

"It's going on the bookshelf, and you're going to love it," I tell him.

"I love it," Nelly says, and Sully throws his hands up knowing he’s lost the argument.

Every second person in town seems to know Fish. The guy at the ice cream window tells us about the time Justin Crawford drove a snowmobile into the harbor. The woman in the antique store went to school with his mother. By the time we've walked the length of the main street, we've collected enough embarrassing Fish stories to fill the reception speeches twice over, and Bouch is writing them down in his phone.

"For the toast?" Cassidy asks.

"No, for leverage." Bouch grins widely.

The next morning, Fish is waiting for us at the marina wearing sunglasses and a backward cap, standing at the wheel of a boat like he was born on it, which honestly, he might have been, judging where he grew up.

"Welcome," he calls out, arms wide, "to the good ship Crawford. Everybody on, wife's orders. Collette says I have one job today and it's making sure you all fall in love with Maine."

The boat fills fast. Pierre and Issy claim the bow. Emmett and Jo take the bench seats. Felix settles Harper in the shadiest, most cushioned corner, and produces a cooler bag of her specific snacks. She lets him fuss for exactly one minute before banishing him to the other end of the boat. Puck patrols the deck like crew. Frankston finds the one patch of sun and files himself into it. I'm last on, both hands full of towels and sunscreen, and the boat shifts just as I step across the gap. A hand closes around my arm and steadies me before I've even properly wobbled.

"Careful," Sully says, taking the towels off me with his other hand like it's nothing.

"Thank you," I say because I wasn’t looking forward to toppling over.

"Anytime." He stacks the towels and moves off down the boat. Fish takes us out of the harbor slowly, narrating the whole way, and it turns out Fish in Maine is a different animal than Fish in New York. He knows every house on the shoreline and who lives in it. He points out the rock he broke his arm jumping off when he was nine, the cove where he learned to drive a boat, and the buoy colors that mark his uncle's lobster traps.

Everyone is relaxing, enjoying the sun and the salt air. I’ve found a little spot where I lay back, close my eyes, and just feel the gentle bobbing of the water.

"You're different here," I hear Sully say to someone. When I open my eyes, I realize he’s talking to Fish.

"Yeah?” Fish seems surprised by Sully’s comment.

"You’re calmer."

He considers that remark as one hand stills on the wheel. "It’s probably because New York is where I live and work, but Maine is my home.”

“Aw.” Sully chuckles, elbowing him.

“Fuck you,” Fish throws back.

“I get it, it’s the same when I go home,” Sully tells him.

Does Sully not like New York? I always assumed he did.

“How was it going back this time?” Fish asks quietly.

“It was fucked up.”

“I’m sorry,” Fish tells him.

“Don’t need to feel sorry for me,” he says as he sips on his beer.

“Yeah, I do. You lost something too. Yes, Trevor wasn’t your partner, but he was your brother-in-law, and from memory, you guys were all friends in high school, weren’t you?” Fish asks him.

“I wasn’t really friends with Trevor and Kevin, the girls kind of introduced them to us. Emmett and I were too busy with hockey,” he explains.