Lawrence swings his head toward Javi. “Deck boss?”
“I mean, what would you rather me call him, Captain Morgan?”
Morgan squeezes my hip. “Stop,” he says in a sexy timbre he usually reserves for punishments.
“Captain Morgan,” Lawrence muses as he tosses the crab hook toward the bobbing buoys. “Why did it take us so long to make the connection?”
“Now look what you’ve done,” Morgan tells me, with a sharp smack to my ass.
“Sorry,Cap…” At Morgan’s mutinous glare, I shut my mouth and roll my lips inward, stifling my grin.
Lawrence chucks the buoy onto the deck and feeds the line into the block. The engine whines as it drags the crab pot from the depths.
Nerves squirm in my stomach like I swallowed a live fish. I stand on my tiptoes, craning my neck to see over the rail even though the trap hasn’t breached the water’s surface yet. I based this string of crab traps on the notes Seb left on where he wanted to fish this season.
“You know you could have a bird’s-eye view up there in the wheelhouse,” Morgan says.
“And miss the day with you? No.”
Lawrence whistles a catcall, the cue that we’re onto good crab. We have our own language out here. Another reason to keep the crew together.
My heart relaxes, but I’m solely unprepared for the sight of the pot brimming with crab that rises over the rail. It’s one of the biggest hauls we’ve ever had. It’s a bittersweet moment. I feel Seb here, a hand on my shoulder, a promise that I’ll make it through. But next year I won’t have his notes. I’ll have to plot our course without him.
Tears fill my view. Ever since I started crying, I cry at the drop of a hat, like my stifled tears are a debt I’m paying back.
“Come here.” Morgan lifts an arm and gestures for me to stand between him and the hydraulic controls. He perches his head on my shoulder, brushing the stubble of his beard against my cheek.
“We did it,” I say, and I could have said so much more, but it feels like a miracle to still be here, to have my husband with me, and full pots of crab promising we’ll go home soon.
“Youdid it.” He kisses my cheek. “I’m so proud of you. Seb would be too.”
This time, I believe him.
I slide out from under his arm, and help sort crab at the table that nearly killed me. It’s fixed now, and we’ll never make the mistake of working through a storm like that again. My gratitude grows with each pot we pull, and my faith in the ocean replenishes with each empty pot we send back down.
A few hours in, Javi trades places with Alejo, volunteering to work the bait station—probably to get away from Lawrence. Finally, a chance to talk to him alone.
I follow him over. “Hey, Javi.”
Javi forces a block of frozen fish down the grinder. “Yeah, captain?”
“Not captain. Cole, your friend.” I fill an empty bait bag with the fish he chopped. “What’s going on? I’m worried about you.”
He grinds the rest of the giant fishsicle before answering. “I’m not coming back for opilio crab. I’ll do bairdi, but after that, I’m done. Done period. I won’t be back next year.”
I don’t know why it feels like a rejection of me, but it hurts almost as much as when Morgan said he wouldn’t fish with me.
“Can you tell me why? Is it because of last year? Or because of me, maybe?”
“No. I’m glad you and I started talking again,” Javi says. “I missed you.”
“I missed you too.”
We both fall silent as we stuff more bags with bait.
“Is it because of Lawrence?” I ask.
His black stubble twitches as he clenches his jaw. “No.”