didn’t come into our lives. She was placed in it. And looking at her now, I think purposely. There’s also a good part of me that wants to thank her for earlier this morning, but I don’t say any of that.
Sighing, I stare at the water and then lift my eyes to hers. “I’ll stop by later.”
Her face lights up, a newfound flush to her cheeks. She rights her jacket on her shoulder. “Okay.” She waves to Atlas. “Bye, Atlas!”
He peeks his head around the wheelhouse. “Bye!”
For most of my life, I’ve been fishing. The sun rises, the sun sets, and I remain the same. Fishing. Tuna, salmon, cod, crab, halibut… whatever’s in season, I fish. I love the sea. It’s an escape and where I find peace.
Unfortunately, relationships suffer because of it. I’ll be the first to admit in my two-year marriage with Athena, I was fishing nine months out the year. I wasn’t home when she found out she was pregnant. I wasn’t home on birthdays or anniversaries. I did what I could to make a living, and relationships suffered.
My dad? Same thing. My brothers and me, if we hadn’t fished with him, we would have never seen him.
“Did you make a friend?” I ask, watching Atlas clean up the boat. This kid, he’s wise beyond his years in many ways, but still very much a child.
Setting the hose down, his cheeks turn the slightest pink. “How old will I be before I can be her boyfriend and have a sleepover with her like you?”
As the dog licks the water off Atlas’s hands, I fight to hold back the laughter. Bear doesn’t suppress it as well. “I’m still wondering how old I have to be to have sleepovers with girls.”
I nail Bear with my elbow in his stomach and wink at Atlas. “It doesn’t work like that.”
Holding onto the dog’s ear, he lifts his eyes to my dad, who’s on the dock talking to Nivio. “Why not?”
“Because as you get older, so does she.”
He lets go of the dog. “Oh.” Without another word, he takes a look inside the holding tank where we keep the tuna. “You got a few.”
“Not enough,” Bear mumbles, sighing. “Let’s hope it’s a good crab season.”
The reality is, fishing isn’t always good. Sometimes you gotta rely on luck and weather, and at the moment, neither is on our side. We’re halfway through September, the fish are migrating north. The season is pretty much over, and that means one thing. I’ll be leaving this town in a matter of weeks.
Atlas takes off with Bear and my dad into town to meet my uncle Hutch in Raymond. I don’t get along with my uncle. Never have. It mostly has to do with him almost killing me when I was thirteen. We were running out seventy miles off the coast of Westport, and I somehow had gotten wrapped around the lines in the girdie. Uncle Hutch, he looked right at me and didn’t do a goddamn thing.
“Cut the line!” I’d screamed at them. “Cut the fucking line!”
It was squeezing me and would have cut me in half or pulled me overboard if Rhett hadn’t pulled the boat out of gear. He cut me out only to have my uncle grumble, “Relax, it wouldn’t have killed you.”
I thought differently and haven’t been fishing with him again.
After showering, I find myself back at the one place I’ve been trying to avoid since I stepped foot in this town. Weldon’s.
I spot Journey right away. “My place around ten?” she asks. “I’m just filling in for the dinner rush and then I’m leaving.”
Staring at the thick strings of mismatching Christmas lights hanging from the ceiling, I nod, sitting at the bar, but I don’t say otherwise. My eyes land on the man in front of me. Her brother. And he’s not looking too pleased with me. He drums his fingers against the bar. “Does she know?”
Here we go again. I fight off a glare. “Know what?” I snap. Know that in two weeks, I’ve helplessly attached myself to a girl I’ll never have?
His stare locks on mine. “Know who your brother was?”
Part of me figured he knew Rhett and the connection, and honestly, that’s not even the worst of it. I lift the glass to my lips. “No.”
His jaw works back and forth. “Listen, we’re not friends. Probably won’t ever be. I respect your dad, and he helped us out when we really needed it, but this shit you’re up