Page 159 of Forget Me Not

Trout’s words filter back to mind and I wish he were here so I could punch him for putting the thought in my head.

Do I love Nova? Is that what this is?

Fuck, if this is love, why does it hurt so damned bad?

Perhaps, at the end of the day, I do.

No, fuck that. I know I do. I have no fucking idea how to navigate it. I love Nova more than I’ve ever loved anything in this fucking life. More than Hope’s Grace. More than the freedom it granted me. More than the ocean.

I want to scream, to release some of this pent-up anger and frustration, but I can’t.

I should be there. At home. I should be with her, holding her while we sleep.

North Carolina was never home. I know that. Dad wasn’t a father and I with a sinking gut, I realize, I did what I had to do. If I didn’t, he would have killed me. Living the way we were is like playing Russian roulette, only you’re the only player and the other person’s holding the gun. Dad didn’t deserve me or mom. That doesn’t mean I have to be the man he was.

For a blip in time, I had it all.

And now it’s gone.

There’s no going back. Only forward. I’ve built a life around Mom’s old mantra. One Nova doesn’t fit into. No matter how much I fucking love her, I know I can’t make her happy. I’ll ruin her.

And that’s probably the biggest fucking joke of all.

“You look like shit,” Copper, my firsthand, sits down in the co-pilot seat beside me, setting a mug of black coffee on the desk in front of me with a thunk that splashes some over the side. Of all the men on board, Copper is the only one I’ve really spoken too besides the kid. “Too much to drink last night?”

I shake my head, nodding my thanks before taking a sip of the nasty brown bean juice. I’ve always hated coffee, but it kept me warm on the Atlantic. It’s never tasted good to me, but I was also raised that when someone gives you something to eat, you take it.

“I don’t drink.”

It’s a lie, though it’s not far off anymore. I haven’t had anything to drink since this summer. I have a feeling once I start, I won’t want to stop the numbness it gives me, so I just stay clear.

I can’t end up like my dad. Bitter and drunk over the woman he lost.

Plus, I’ve got a ship to run.

“Well, perhaps it’s too much time out on the deck at night.”

Well, shit.

“Yeah, I seen you,” he chuckles, running a hand through his beard. “It’s dangerous to be out there by yourself. You fall over, that’s it. Whatever problem you’ve been stewing over won’t matter anymore. You’ve got to get you some sleep. Can’t have you falling asleep at the wheel.”

“Yeah, I’ll work on it.”

He fixes me with a bored stare that reminds me of Al.

“You know, life out here’s rough.”

“Yeah,” I grumble, watching the guys haul pots on board and empty the crabs onto the sorting table in front of them. It’s the same thing day in and day out. Pull them up, throw back the small ones. When we’ve run out of pots to pick up, we load them with bait and start over.

“It ain’t for everybody,” Copper grunts, crossing his arms over his chest. “Water’s rough. Cold. Deadly. I’ve lost a lot of friends out here. Good men, too.”

My eyes catch on the kid, out on the dock as he struggles with a pot. The boat rocks, the water worse today than it has been with a coming storm.

“What’s he doing?”

Copper follows my line of sight, his gaze narrowing on Trout as the boat shifts in the treacherous waves.

“Fuckin’ kids,” Copper grumbles, reaching for the mic beside his head.

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