Page 67 of Weathering The Storm

“There’s nothing to thank me for.”

I’m equal parts relieved and guilty that they don’t blame me for what happened. It’s been a struggle not to blame myself.

I do know that I don’t deserve her thanks. I’d do anything for her son. I would’ve gone down with the ship if it would’ve bought him a better chance of getting out of there alive.

Though the thought of sharing a life with him sure makes me glad I didn’t.

After a detour from the Anchorage airport to the hospital to check in on Perry, Seth’s sister comes by to pick us up. She hugs Seth tight, then pulls me in like she’s already decided I’m her brother, too.

“Nice to meet you, Nick. My brother never shuts up about you.”

“What the hell, Audrey? That’s not true.”

“It’s completely true, believe me,” she says as we all climb into her SUV. Seth, shotgun, and me beside a crumb-dusted car seat. “It’s all ‘Nick this’ ‘Nick that’ whenever he gets back from a fishing trip. I don’t think he’s even paying attention to what you’re catching out there.”

“Oh, really?” I smile. “And here I thought he was a pretty solid first mate.”

“I think he’s just trying to impress you.” She drops her voice to Seth’s register. “‘You don’t understand, Audrey. He’ssonice andsooohot. I’m completely fucked here. Why can’t he like men?’”

“That’s it,” Seth says. “I’m telling Jared about your secret bookshelf.”

Audrey shoots him a glare. “You wouldn’t.”

“Maybe he’ll like it. Maybe it’ll give him some… ideas.”

“He doesn’t need to get any ideas. We’re still potty training hislastidea.”

My laugh fogs up the cold window as we make our way out of the city, Seth and Audrey sniping back and forth in a way that resurrects some of the youth buried beneath the ancient feeling in my bones.

Eventually they exchange a look in the front seat that I translate to mean,“I missed you,”even though it’s wordless, and followed by a smirk that makes me finally see the resemblance between them.

Audrey spends the rest of the two-and-a-half-hour drive asking me about myself. Questions, I realize, I haven’t had to answer in a long time. You don’t talk about basics when everyone you know, you’ve known all your life.

It’s weird talking about theSuojaas a memory of the past when my work has always been the center of my life. But maybe this season had already changed me before the storm did.

My center has shifted. It’s a lot closer. It’s catching my eye in the rearview mirror. Silently checking in on me as I tell Audrey about the days when I used to work for my father. Reaching over the back of the seat to brush fingers with me, just because.

I’ll always love the water. It’ll never lose its wonder. But I didn’t wish for more days of fishing when I thought I was going to die. I wished I’d had more days with Seth.

“I hope you’re both hungry,” Audrey says when we pull into the driveway of the Otter Trail Lodge. “I’m pretty sure Mom thinks that the cure for a near-death experience is brisket and potatoes five ways.”

“She might be onto something there,” Seth says.

After living off of hospital and vending machine food for the past two days, I’m inclined to agree.

“There’s three different pies too, because she didn’t know Nick’s favorite.”

“Pumpkin,” Seth says. I can’t for the life of me recall when I would’ve mentioned that, but it doesn’t surprise me that he’s right.

“Good. That one made the lineup.”

We grab our bags and head toward the front entrance. Seth’s parents and the kids all meet us outside before we have the chance to knock the snow off our boots.

“Hey everyone, this is Nick.” Seth places a hand on my back and ushers me forward. A burly man with a thick, graying beard comes over to clasp my hand, his other arm occupied by a toddler who’s somehow sleeping through all the commotion. “Nick, this is my dad, Frank. And the youngest, Rosie.”

“Nice to meet you,” I say. Or at least, Itryto say, before the woman next to Frank grabs me and wrangles me into a hug that feels ten times stronger than her slender build would suggest.

She pulls back, holding me at arm’s length and assessing me head to toe. Whatever she gleans must be acceptable. Because she smiles—brown eyes crinkling and a big, white flash of teeth—and hugs me again. “It’s nice to meetyou, Nick. You can call me Irene.”