Page 57 of Tide Over

Once everything is loaded and ready, I steer us out of the marina, the boat slicing through the calm water as the first hints of dawn streak the sky. I take a deep breath of the salty air, listening to the rumble of the engine and the gentle laps of the water as the soft glow of the wheelhouse screens light up the dark space around me.

But even as we head into what could be a long, gruelling day, I feel oddly at peace. And I know why.

Liam.

The thought of him drifts through my mind, bringing a calm that I don’t often feel at work.

Or ever.

But even with this unfamiliar feeling of peace, I can’t ignore the familiar questions that are creeping in. I glance back at Sarah, Mitch, and Glen, and wonder what they would think if they knew. If I told them I was gay, would everything change? Would it be weird and awkward between us? Would they leave my crew? Would everything be ok?

I’m afraid to find out the answers to these questions, because I love this crew. They’re like family, and the last thing I want to do is lose them, or anyone else.

But the more time I spend with Liam, the more the urge rises to confront these questions, and consider what it would be like to stop hiding. To feel this peace all the time, and not just in stolen moments behind closed doors.

But I’m not sure I can afford to find out. Because the thought of possibly losing the life I’ve built with this crew and with myfamily… and potentially hurting the people I love… I can’t do that.

I don’t know what to do.

With a sigh, I push those questions aside and try to hang onto the calm and peaceful feeling I started my morning with. But I’m not sure how much longer I can keep all these parts of my life separate.

I cast my line into the middle of the tranquil river, watching as the fly drifts on the surface of the water. After a moment, I slowly reel it back in and cast it out again. Once it lands on the water, I glance at Liam further down the river, laser-focused as he effortlessly casts his line. And a smile forms on my lips. While I’m far from a seasoned fly fisher, Liam clearly is. Each of his casts are smooth and precise as his fly floats gracefully downstream before he pulls it back in for another go, and I find myself just watching his motions.

I’ve never fished here before, but I knew about this river from a hike years ago. It’s about thirty minutes from Torrin Cove, and a decent trek off the road, so it’s quiet, secluded, and is perfect for fly fishing. And after a tough haul today, this is very needed. Not only because of how peaceful it is…but because I get to see Liam smile and enjoy himself.

Even though we haven’t caught any fish yet.

“So,” I say, casting my line again, watching the shimmering water as the sun dips low, “when was the last time you went fly fishing?”

Liam doesn’t answer right away, so I abandon my fly on the water for a moment and glance over at him.

He remains quiet for another moment as he watches his fly drift downstream. “Last year,” he says eventually. “When I was home visiting.”

There’s a tension in his voice, and a sadness that reminds me of the other day. When he almost broke down talking about home, and his guilt for feeling happy. I still don’t know why home is such a difficult topic for him, but I’ve pieced together enough to know that Nick’s death has left a deep scar, and it seems to have reshaped his relationship with his family in some way. I wish I could do more to help, but I also think he knows I’m here for him whenever he’s ready.

But right now, I want to keep him feeling relaxed and happy, so I shift the conversation.

“Well, I hope you did better than you’re doing now, because…” I trail off, raising a questioning eyebrow as he casts his line.

He huffs with a side-eye aimed my way. “I’d say my chances are still better than yours, with that technique,” he says, gesturing to my fishing rod with a nod.

“Hm,” I hum thoughtfully. “Didn’t you say you were going toshow me how it’s done?” I turn my head to him again and sweep my hand towards the river. “Let’s see it then. I’m waiting.”

His eyes light up as he smirks at me. “And what do I get if I do?”

I smile as I pull my line in. “Winner’s choice.”

“Deal.” He nods.

We fall silent as our focus shifts back to the water, keeping our eyes peeled for trout. Neither of us has seen a single fish since we’ve been here, but we keep casting, pulling the lines in, and casting again, hoping for a bite.

Until Liam’s rod bends, and he pulls his line tight.

Motherfucker.

I pull my empty line in with a huff as he works on pulling in his fish, which puts up a decent fight. But he fights back and successfully lifts it out of the water. And it’s a big one too.

Of fucking course.

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