Page 1 of Weathering The Storm

Chapter 1

Nick

It’s five a.m. when I step out of the Belk Harbor office. Sunrise isn’t a thought on the horizon yet, the skies blending into the unblemished, oil-slick black of the water.

A light dusting of snow floats through the air like powdered sugar under the amber glow of the pier lights, and the dock is alive with the bustling shadows of crews getting ready to depart.

They’re all here for the same reason we are. Red king crab. Bristol Bay’s very own gold.

Pots hit the water in two days, and from there, the hunt is on—every crew working to harvest our share before the brutal winter sets in.

Crab season isn’t what it once was. The ocean feels man’s impact greater than the land, but most people will never know her the way we do. They’ll never witness her pain, never realize how deeply we all need her.

Quotas are tighter now. Windows are shorter, and that’s if the fishery opens at all.

It used to be that four months of labor could comfortably line the whole crew’s pockets for the remainder of the year, but now we’re running cod through March, salmon through July.

For me, it doesn’t make much of a difference. My wallet’s plenty thick, and nobody’s relying on me. Nobody’s missing me, waiting for me to return.

But that’s not the case for my guys. It’d be nice to send them home for the holidays with a paycheck that’ll buy them a few extra months with their families. They bust their asses out here. They’ve more than earned it.

I’ve walked to this harbor slip more times than I’ve walked to my own front door. It’s muscle memory, sidestepping the wobbly boards on the ramp that could’ve used a fresh set of screws about a decade ago. My boots hit the dock, and I breathe in the dirty air. Fuel, salt, and fish oil.

Damn, I’m ready to be out on the water again.

“‘Ey, Nicky!”

More than a few people turn their heads before going about their business. Most of the deckies around here know my first mate, Seth Rittenburg, and anybody who’s talked to him for morethan five minutes expects nothing less than a surplus of positive energy at all hours of the day.

They also know he’s the only one who can call meNickywithout getting shoved into the forty-five-degree marina basin.

Seth is already jogging down the dock when I spot him, dodging everybody else who’s still half-asleep on their feet. His bootsteps clunk on the wood—left, right, left, right. By my calculations, I have about three seconds to brace myself for impact.

Two.

One.

Seth barrels into me, engulfing me with a bear hug I feel in my bones. Through all the layers—our thermals, our sweaters, our waterproof jackets—he’s so fucking solid and warm.

For a second, I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe in the crisp, coastal winter air on his skin before I push him away and heft my duffle higher on my shoulder. If I don’t, I might hold onto him too long.

It’s already suspect enough that he’s the only person on the crew I’ve ever greeted with more than a handshake and a pat on the back. This is just Seth, though. He’s never been shy about hugging people.

That’s how I know he doesn’t mean a thing by it.

“Good to see you,” I say.

Although I don’t know where the line is between seeing him and drinking him in like the first sip of hot coffee at the start of a shift.

A light brown five o’clock shadow coats his jaw, a tease of the winter beard that’ll grow in by the end of December. His hair curls up at the ends beneath an orange wool cap, a little darker than it was when we last parted ways two months ago.

I’ve never known anyone who changes colors so drastically with the cycle of the sun. Skin tone deepening from peachy beige to golden tan as the weather warms, hair darkening from toffee to mahogany when daylight wanes.

Seth takes all the beauty of the changing seasons and personifies it. Then he takes my heart and bleeds it dry to feed the silver dollar smile that’s always plastered on his face.

He gives my shoulder a squeeze. “It’s good to see you, too.”

I shrug him off, still distinctly feeling his thumbprint on my collarbone. “Okay, okay. We need to get a move on.”