Page 31 of Avenged

“Will do, O’ Captain, My Captain,” I said, using our nickname for him from years past.

“I wish I was there to slap you on the back of the head,” he replied.

We hung up, and I took a moment to look out at the sea. To find a calm that had evaded me for a few minutes. This was all going to be fine. Jersey could see the specialist now. I would be back at work tomorrow. Life would just go back to normal. There was no reason to be having a heart attack.

All I needed to do was stay away from her.

? ? ?

Other than seeing her to sign her up for the medical benefits the day after we’d gotten married, I avoided Jersey for almost two weeks. I focused on the new set of cadets I was working with on the Chinook—teaching them the ins and outs of the boat, working as a team, and Coastie life in general. Even though I stayed away from her physically, I often found my brain wandering back to her. I wanted to know if she’d made her appointment with the specialist. I hoped she was feeling better, but I didn’t dare check up on her. I figured we both needed some time apart to settle into this new arrangement which existed between us. I needed time away to get my shit together and focus on anything but pale-blue eyes and the honeycomb dusting of freckles I wanted to rub my fingers along.

It made me an asshole at the academy and at home.

Dawson was the only one to call me out on it.

“What crawled up your ass and died these days?” he asked one night when I got home and he was actually there. I hadn’t seen him much more than I’d seen Jersey. We were both working, but when I got home, he was often out at the bar or with some of the other workers from the marina. It was easing my worry about him some because he wasn’t sitting around moping, and when I did see him, there was less of a dark cloud hanging over him.

“I just hate coming home to your fucking dishes in the sink,” I told him, but we both knew it wasn’t what was really eating me.

“Jesus, just call her,” he said, grabbing two beers and sitting one next to me on the counter.

“Who?”

“Your wife.” He smirked.

I grabbed the beer and downed half of it in one long gulp. “How the hell did I let you talk me into this shit?”

He laughed. “The problem isn’t in the fact you married her.”

“So you keep saying.”

He shrugged. “Truth hurts.”

While it was the truth, I didn’t want him rubbing it in my face, so I continued being a jerk and asked, “What the hell do you know about liking anyone?”

He turned thoughtful, and then I felt like a real ass, because I didn’t know anything about Dawson’s love life. I’d been gone for too many of his teen years. I didn’t know who he’d lost his virginity to. I didn’t even know if he’d had a long-term girlfriend. The only thing I’d ever heard was Mom crying on the phone when Mr. Dick chewed her out again for one of Dawson’s many transgressions, which he blamed on her.

That used to eat me up. Mr. Dick chewing her out for anything, but the further removed I’d become from Clover Lake and home, I’d realized things I hadn’t wanted to about my mom. She wasn’t really a mother in the proper sense of the word. She’d made sure we had a roof over our heads, food in the cupboard, and clothes on our backs. But if we wanted the food, we had to make it ourselves, and she’d left us to fend for ourselves in regard to our social and emotional needs. She’d never given us any rules or structure. She’d said the best way for us to become our true selves was to be our own guide. So, Dawson and I had made our own rules. Rules we’d held each other accountable for. And once I’d left, Dawson hadn’t had anyone checking up on him. No one to hold him accountable except for a father he hated with a passion and a mother who’d never tell him what to do.

Before I could take back my words, my phone rang, and I picked it up to see it was Mandy. I’d forgotten that she and Leena had gotten back from Panama. I hadn’t thought about who would pick them up from the airport. It was something else Eli would have kicked my ass about if he was closer.

“Mandy, how was the cruise?”

“Everything we wanted it to be. We’re having brunch on Sunday to celebrate being home and show off all the pictures. We’d love for you and Dawson to join us.”

“I’ll be there. Hold on, and I’ll ask Dawson what his schedule is.”

“Dawson has a schedule?” she asked, surprised.

“Yep. Got a job at Stoker’s.”

“Wow. I leave for a few weeks and everything changes,” she chuckled. I swallowed, wondering if Jersey had told her about our arrangement, but when she didn’t say anything else, I figured she hadn’t, and I wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. This was really Jersey’s business more than anyone else's.

“Dawson, you off on Sunday?” I asked.

“No, but I don’t start until that afternoon,” he replied.

“Okay, sounds like we’ll both be there. What time and what shall we bring?”

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