“Come on,” I tell them, reaching for a clipboard that hangs on a nail near the door, and thumb through the daily logs. “I need to take stock of everything so when we call, I can tell them what’s gotta be fixed.”
Levi follows me up into the wheelhouse. “So, tell us about California.”
“What he means is tell us about the *,” Colton interrupts.
“Check yourself, Colt,” I chide him quietly.
Colton looks at me with the most comical look of feigned innocence I’ve ever seen.
“It was good. Great to see Oliver and Ansel. See the new store.” I scribble a few notes on the charts, add today’s date, and start a list of repairs needed in order of priority. “I saw Harlow,” I add, and regret it almost immediately.
“Harlow,” Levi repeats with glee evident in his voice. “Harlow of the trench coat?” Of course Levi would remember that. Because karma has an incredible sense of humor, Levi just so happened to be pulling up to my house as Harlow climbed into her cab. He definitely enjoyed sharing that piece of information with my entire family.
I glare at him over the top of the clipboard. “Yes. That Harlow.”
“Well, damn, son. I wouldn’t have answered my phone calls, either.”
“Yeah, about that,” I say, but Levi is already shaking his head.
“We’re big boys, Finn, we can handle the load for a while. You deserved a break, man.”
“This,” Colton echos.
“Okay, well,” I say, a little overwhelmed and not exactly sure how to respond. “We have an engine to pull apart before we can make the big call, so let’s get to it.”
IT’S LIKE I never left. I work from sunup to sundown—taking a break only at lunch to call the producers with my brothers and my dad and tell them, finally, that we’re in—and it feels so damn good to wear myself out and work until I can hardly stand, too tired to worry or even think.
It’s only the middle of the night that the mental clarity goes to shit. I wake from a dream that was too real. It was Harlow, over me, laughing at something I said. Her bare skin was only half visible in the moonlight, and waking without that sight sends a spike right through my gut.
It’s easier to lie in bed and stare at the ceiling than risk going back to sleep, where I might dream about her again. I’m not sure whether Harlow cemented the impossibility of a relationship when she went behind my back to talk to Salvatore Marìn, or whether I did just today when I agreed to do this show, but however it happened, I have to accept the fact that there’s no future for us.
Despite what I thought, I know now that I’ve never loved someone before and I’m beginning to realize that I have no idea how to get over it. It’s terrifying to wonder if I’ll always have this carved-out feeling beneath my ribs, like I left something vital behind in California.
IT’S BEEN FOUR days since I’ve seen her, and anyone who says it gets easier with time can go fuck themselves. I’m not sleeping well, I’m not eating enough, and I’m working myself into the ground.
I’ve tied up the loose ends with Salvatore and put our smallest boat up for sale so we can focus on the two larger boats. The show is sending a crew of mechanics to get to work on the Linda in a week or so, but it’s impossible for me to be still and not try to tackle some of it on my own while I can. I’m the first one at the dock every morning and the last one to leave. By Wednesday, we’ve torn apart the entire engine and finally come to the conclusion that this particular problem is too big for us to handle on our own.
Colton spends the afternoon on the phone with the producers scheduling the repairs while I help Levi check the pulleys for wear. Dad is checking the nets and commenting on each and every repair, when I hear a familiar voice.
“Permission to board, Captain Wanker.”
I look over the side to see Oliver, smiling up at me.
“Holy shit,” I say. I wave him up and around the boat, watching as he climbs on board. “What the hell are you doing here?” My first reaction is joy, elation at seeing my friend, that he came all this way to see me.
A second, more physical emotion is fear. I came and left without giving him any reason, and never bothered to check in once I arrived back home. And now I’ve made a pretty monumental decision about our family business and still haven’t told my two best friends anything. “Is something wrong?
Ansel? Harlow?”
He’s already shaking his head. “They’re fine,” he says. “I just wanted to talk to you.” He pulls me into a hug before stepping back, taking a minute to look around. “Never thought I’d step foot on one of these again,” he says. “Smells like fucking fish.”
“Well, I’ll be damned.”
We both turn to see a grinning Colton making his way toward us.
“Colton,” Oliver says, shaking my brother’s hand. Oliver glances from me to Colton and back again. “Looks like you’re going to be as ugly as this one here, you poor bastard. How are you?”
“Good. Great, actually. Did you hear about the show?”
Fuck.
“The . . . show.”
“Yeah, the Adventure Channel show,” Colton barrels on obliviously. “Two fucking seasons, Olls.
Can you believe—”
“Colt,” I interrupt him, holding up a hand. “I was hoping to tell Oliver about this myself.”
Oliver turns his smile on me and I’ve known him long enough to know that this is not an I’m-so-happy-for-you smile. This is the condescending smile he gives to someone who confuses Star Trek with Buck Rogers, or doesn’t understand the dynamic behind the Wolverine-Jean Grey-Cyclops love triangle. “Good plan, Finn. I like hearing things directly from the source.”
I reach up to scratch the back of my neck, waiting while Colton and Oliver catch up. I only tune back in when I hear Colton ask how long he’ll be here.
“Heading back tomorrow morning.”
Colton groans. “Why such a short trip? We could use your help next week when the mechanics descend and Finn is banned from the boats.”
“Very funny.”
“Listen, I gotta get back to the engine room; make time for a beer tonight, yeah?” Colton asks, walking backward.
Oliver nods. “Definitely.”
“Cool. Good to see you, man, we’ll talk tonight.”
We watch Colton round the corner and disappear out of sight. Oliver is the first to speak. “I like your brothers,” he says.
“They’re good guys. Really held things together while I was gone.”
“You know who I don’t like right now?”
“Ansel?” I guess.
He laughs. “Walk with me, Finn.”
Oliver steps back onto the dock and after a moment of hesitation when I wonder whether I could actually swim back to my house, I follow. On the surface, Oliver is about as laid-back as anyone I’ve ever met. He’s one of those people who keeps everything in, letting their emotions out in small, measured pieces. The fact that he flew up here to check on me without even knowing about the show . . . I think I’m in for a world of hurt.
Despite the sun high overhead, there’s a distinct bite to the air. The wind whips through the boats and it gets even chillier the farther we walk. A ship’s horn cuts through the silence and Oliver turns to me .
“I’m assuming this whole show thing has something to do with why you left? And with what was bothering you the entire time?”
I pull my cap off and run a hand through my hair. “Harlow tell you anything?” There’s a part of me that almost wishes she had. If Harlow’s already told him then there’s no need for me to, no reason to spill my guts out and onto the dock.
I am not that lucky.
“No, actually she said it was your story to tell. And I agree.”
The sound of the water, small waves breaking against the base of the pier carry up to us, amplifying my silence. I should have told him. I should have told Ansel.
“Finn, I know you’re not a big sharer. I get that. Hell, after spending time with chatterbox Ansel, I even appreciate it at times. But I love you, you’re my best mate and I wouldn’t have given you so bloody many chances to confide in me if I didn’t actually care what was happening in your life. Talk to me.”
“I don’t like discussing things until I know what I’m going to do.”
“I get that,” Oliver says, nodding. “But seeing as how I came up here to make sure you were okay, and I find out just now from your brother that you’ve already signed on to do a television show . . .”
He waves his hand forward, indicating he doesn’t really need to finish making his point.
I point to a bench at the end of the dock, and we walk there in stiff silence. We sit down, and Oliver stretches his arms across the back of the bench as I lean forward, elbows on my knees, staring down.