Lawrence is less forgiving. He stabs his finger in Alejo’s direction. “Never do that again!” He yanks Javi’s hood up to cover his now-drenched black hair, slaps him on the back, and heads back to the bait station.
Crisis averted. Close calls like that are common. It’s just the nature of the job, but we’ve been lucky so far.
I stifle a yawn, then throw the hook?—
“Big wave on the way,” Cole yells over the PA.
We scatter back from the rail just in time to avoid the crushing weight of the rogue wave that T-bonesBriar’sstarboard side. Dense saltwater spills onto the deck where I last stood, and sweeps Alejo off his feet, but Wes catches him before he takes a water slide into the rail.
“Are we missing anyone?” Anxiety sneaks into Cole’s tone. “Morgan?”
“We’re good!” I rush back into position, trying to salvage the pot before we pass the buoys.
“Watch out!” Cole yells.
Another wave slams into the bow, knocking me onto my ass. By the time I get to my feet, the next wave engulfs the deck.
That’s enough of that. “We need to shut down until the weather gets better.”
“We can’t,” Alejo says. “Seb said?—”
“We can’t catch crab when we’re swimming laps on deck,” Lawrence says.
TheBriar Anteroshas a telephone wired from the wheelhouse to other parts of the ship for more private communication, so when the one posted inside the forepeak rings, it’s safe to assume it’s for me.
“Did I hurt you?” Cole asks when I answer.
“No, babe.”
He sucks air through his teeth. “I’m fucking this up.”
“You’re not. That shit just happens out here. You know what you’re doing.”
He spent more time on theBriar Anterosthan he did in high school, and started skippering as soon as he graduated. He’s just too damn hard on himself, takes the blame for the ocean, haunted by his dad’s emotional abuse and constant comparison to Seb.
Our conversation pauses as Cole smoothly navigates us over a thirty-foot wave.
“See? You’ve got this.”
“What the hell is going on?” Seb says in the background.
Great. If Seb’s up, we’ll be working through the night, whether it’s safe, or not. He’s in even more of a rush than I am.
“Sorry,” Cole says, voice muffled. He briefs Seb on the working conditions, then suggests we end for the day.
Cold seeps from my wet clothes into my bones while I wait.
“I hear you,” Seb says. “But we have to haul our gear, or we’ll lose it under the ice. It is what it is.”
Cole sighs. “Roger.”
“Tell him I said we’re going in,” I say.
“It’s okay. I’ll come help you guys finish,” Cole tells me. “See you soon.” The line goes dead.
I slam the phone back into the receiver, clenching my jaw.
By the time we finish cleaning up the equipment knocked over by the wave, Cole’s geared up and joins us on deck.