His eyes are so cold, I feel like I’m back in the water.
“Can I borrow some clothes?”
I nod toward my bag in a trance. I told him all that, after he brought it up, and now he’s just leaving? Objectively, I know Seb’s death isn’t my fault, but I was vulnerable with Cole. I could really use his forgiveness, or hell, even a word of comfort, but no. He doesn’t give a fuck about what I need.
“Cole?”
He pulls on a pair of my sweatpants and a hoodie, avoiding my gaze. “Thanks.”
“Cole,” I call after him, but he doesn’t stop.
When the door shuts behind him, I scream into my pillow until white spots explode in my vision, then I take a breath, and scream again.
NINETEEN
Cole
The pots are stacked,the bait squared away, and the harbormaster gave us the go ahead. All that’s left is Seb’s annual speech. This year, silence stretches across the galley. We’re all sitting thigh to thigh, crammed around the table except for Morgan, who leans against the fridge, arms crossed over his chest.
Only Seb would know what to say to rally us after we lost one of our own. In a different world, Seb would still be here, and he’d be talking about me. Or worse yet, Morgan.
Morgan’s confession rattled me. I knew he dove into the Bering Sea without a survival suit. Lawrence forced a few of the details on me before I told him to shut the fuck up. But I never knew exactly how dire things were. It’s my fault for not asking, for telling Morgan I didn’t want to talk about it.
Here I blamed him and added to his guilt, accusing him of exactly what he fears he caused—Seb’s death, making Finn an orphan.
But that’s not true.
Seb saved Morgan, and while I still blame myself, the wave of gratitude I feel for Seb’s sacrifice healed something in me. Seb could have survived, should have survived, but he took care ofMorgan first, the way he took care of me, the way he took care of all of us. He saved my husband.
Morgan was right about everything.
He lost more than I did. And he still rose to the occasion. He fought for me. He was there for Finn when I abandoned both of them, and yesterday, when he needed me to stay, I didn’t.
I brush my hand over my stubble and crack my neck. “I don’t know why I’m nervous. You’re my brothers.”
“Except for Wes,” Lawrence says. “He’s more like a great uncle.”
Wes ignores Lawrence’s attempt at banter, and clears his throat. “Can I say a few words, Captain?”
“Of course.”
He nods solemnly. “The season after you lose a fellow fisherman is rough. Losing a captain, a friend, a brother… That’s even worse. But we’re Bering Sea fishermen. The bones of our kin line the bottom of the ocean. We’ve cried enough tears to fill the damn thing. But we don’t give up. We keep going. Because we’re not in it for the money.”
“Speak for yourself,” Lawrence says.
“We’re in it because the ocean is the only place we feel alive,” Wes continues. “I trust you with my life, Captain.”
I flare my fingers over the tabletop. I want to disappear. I don’t deserve what he said. Seb should be here.
“Thanks,” I finally muster.
“Wes is right. I trust you, Captain,” Morgan says, gaze darting to my face for a brief second.
I don’t deserve that either.
“Captain,” Lawrence and Alejo repeat.
“Okay. That’s enough of that.” I lift my drink. “To full pots, fair seas, and going home to our families.”