Page 68 of Weathering The Storm

Audrey’s spiel in the car seemed oddly specific, if overexaggerated, but something in the way Irene looks at me makes my heart kick up all over again.

He really did talk about me a lot. Didn’t he?

“And these guys”—Seth crouches, scooping his older niece and nephew into his arms—“are Kylie and Bobby.”

The kids instantly shout back at him.

“Riley!”

“Robbie!”

“Really? Are you sure?” Seth feigns ignorance while the kids laugh and squeal in outrage, climbing all over him until he grabs them and hoists them both onto his back. “I guess ithasbeen a long time. Shit, you guys are heavy now. It’s like slingin’ around a couple halibut.”

Audrey glares. “Language.”

“Halibut’s not a bad word,” Seth says.

“Don’t talk like your uncle,” Audrey tells the kids.

“I won’t,” Riley says vehemently. “Ialwaysremember people’s names.”

“Oh yeah? What’s his name?” Seth spins around enough times that I wonder if the kids are seeing two of me by the time he stops. Robbie’s cheeks are red and... smeared with chocolate? Or dirt? And one of Riley’s pigtails is flopping halfway over her face.

“You just said it. Nick.” She grabs two fistfuls of Seth’s shirt and pulls herself up, staring at me in that overly perceptive, unapologetically obvious way of children. “Are you Uncle Seth’s boyfriend?”

“I am,” I say after a moment’s hesitation.

Of all the ways we’ve confessed what we mean to each other, the word “boyfriend” shouldn’t have an effect. But it’s a word no one’s ever spoken about me before, and there’s something sorealabout having a title to Seth, just like everyone else here. Everyone he loves.

Mother, father, sister, niece, nephew. Boyfriend.

The fact that this moment was thirty-four years in the making for me is wholly insignificant to Riley though.

“Cool,” she says. “I have two boyfriends and a girlfriend.”

“Ohreally?” Seth shoots a smirk at Audrey.

Audrey waves flippantly. “Her best friends at preschool.”

“Well, I bet your dad will think that’s really cool, too, when he gets home.” Seth bounces the kids into a more comfortable position on his back. He catches my eye when he straightens, giving me a knowing wink. “Come on, boyfriend. I’ll show you to our room.”

I can see why this place is booked out every summer. Not only is Irene one hell of a cook, but the lodge is also beautifully updated. Even Seth’s room is cozy, though it’s smaller than the guest suites and walks out into the laundry area instead of a waterfront balcony.

A king-size bed takes up most of the floor space, made up with a patchwork quilt in shades of cream, rust, and red. And what area the bed doesn’t take up is covered by a plush, beaver-pelt rug.

Dark teal walls bring the night sky indoors, broken up by exposed beams and a collage of artwork above his desk. An oil painting of a grizzly bear, a salmon carved out of cedar, an Indigenous-style painting of an orca on a piece of stretched hide.

In one corner, a lived-in leather armchair faces the window where you can see the base of the mountains rising up over the sparsely-lit town. In the opposite corner, there’s a cast iron wood stove with a rack of logs someone took the care to replenish before he got back.

I arrange a few inside, digging around until I find a lighter and poker so I can get a fire started while Seth’s in the shower.

He gave me an unspoken invitation to join him, but as much as I wanted to, I should keep my hands to myself. Give him timeto recover. And a burrowing concern at the back of my mind wonders how long he’ll have before the water grows cold.

The flames are beginning to lick over the tops of the wood pile by the time he comes out.

“We can get you something to wear when the stores open.” Seth walks over to his closet, tossing some clothes onto the bed. “Help yourself to whatever you want though. My stuff should fit you. Might be a little cropped and tight in the ass, but you won’t hear me complaining.”

He turns around, tossing a wink over his shoulder and dropping the towel tied around his waist.