Like the miserable, insecure, estranged husband that I am, I watch Morgan say goodbye on the dock. Morgan hugs Finn like he’s his son, and leaving him is the most difficult thinghe’s ever done, and I hate that he trusts me so little, he has to leave Finn when he doesn’t want to. He gives Shay a platonic side hug, so at least there’s that.
On his way back, he catches me watching. He doesn’t look away. He’s furious.
His footsteps hammer up the stairs. The wheelhouse door opens.
“What is wrong with you?” Morgan yells. “He’s five. He lost his mom. Then his dad. If you hadn’t fucked off from all your responsibilities, you would have known how important this was for him. If you had done any work on your grief, you’d be able to help him through this.”
“All I do is grieve.”
“Bullshit. You either hide your emotions or explode with them. Seb’s death is not your fault, no matter how much you make it about you. But the way you treat Finn? That’s all on you.”
Guilt curdles in my stomach. “Do you think I ruined things with him?”
“No. But that’s the thing about kids. You can be the worst parent in the world, and they’ll still love you. You have to show up and be good for him because he’ll keep loving you, and you’ll keep hurting him.”
He rakes a hand through his hair. “And just so we’re clear, that’s not an excuse for you to stay away. Abandonment fucks you up just as much as mistreatment does. Why do you think I struggle so much to quit you? I’m still the same kid trying to earn the love of someone who doesn’t want me. I’m a junkie like my parents, and you’re my heroin. You hurt me over and over, and I keep coming back to show you where all my good veins are so you can stab me in the heart.”
“Morgan…”
He shakes his head. “I’m going to unpack.” He reaches into his bag and tosses Seb’s baseball mitt at me.
“Finn asked me to give this to you.”
After he leaves, I open the mitt. There’s a photo of me and Finn at his birthday party inside.
On the back, Morgan wrote:
Hi, Uncle,
Uncle Mor is writing this for me because he doesn’t think you’ll be able to read my handwriting. I can’t read either, so hopefully Uncle will read this to you.
Anyway, I know you miss Daddy. I miss him too. Sometimes I put on his mitt and pretend I’m holding his hand. Maybe you can try that?
The picture is so you don’t miss me too much while you’re fishing. Love you.
FINN
PS Make sure to bring Daddy’s mitt back. I’m just loaning it to you. Bring Uncle Mor back too.
FIFTEEN
Cole
I didn’t feelSeb in the baseball mitt, but I feel him on the throttle as I guideBriarthrough the Ballard Locks.
The lessons he taught me crowd the empty wheelhouse, going back years, starting from when we were kids, teaching me how to run the ship, how to fish. Dad didn’t teach me any of that.
I used to think there was something wrong with me, that I deserved his cruelty, until Seb explained it to me. Me and Lawrence had stayed out too late, and Dad was already long-drunk. Morgan was there too. That was probably the first time Morgan saw who the real captain was, a far cry from the lovable hero most thought of him on the ocean.
“When mom died having you, Dad never forgave you,” Seb told me. “Obviously, it’s not your fault. He’s just an idiot.”
I laughed, but he sobered.
“We have two families, remember? On land, it’s just you and me. On the ocean, we have him.”
He told me about our two families for years, ever since he first defended me from him. But that night, I told him something different.
“We don’t have two families. It’s you and me. Land, ocean, doesn’t matter where. It’s you and me.”