Page 51 of Ship Happens

Whale-watching won out, four to one. Only Abigail had voted for hiking and proceeded to spend the rest of the night sulking about it while Kaitlyn promised they’d go hiking in Juneau. Besides, the argument had been made that they’d all want to save their energy for the New Year’s Eve party happening later.

As the sky begins to fade from the deepest blues to soft greens, Owen finally pulls out his sketchbook, starting with the lines of the horizon, keeping his pencil loose and quick. He’s never been one for landscapes, not since high school when his art teacher made him paint them.

The tops of the mountains crack along the surface of the cloudless sky, breaking up the blend of purple and green and orange that’s starting to appear with the rising sun, the forest painting the peaks in lush colors as the trees trail down the sides of the mountain ranges. A few scattered settlements and homes dot the coastline, the sand a useful contrast that cuts between the earthy colors that Owen uses for the woods and the deep blue of the water.

It’s therapeutic for Owen to quiet his mind, to let his hand follow the law of nature. With little room for interpretation, he can simply let the drawing be what it needs to. Of course he does have to improvise with how quickly the ship is moving—it’s not too long before Owen’s completely lost his original subject matter—but by that point, everything is coming together nicely, and he’s able to fill in the gaps.

“That’s beautiful.”

Owen turns to find Kevin towering over him, dressed in black sweatpants and a tank top that shows off his thick biceps the way Kevin loves to.

“Thanks.” Owen sets down the colored pencils that’ve collected in his lap.

“Couldn’t sleep?” Kevin asks, taking a seat across from Owen, kicking his feet up onto the side table, and reclining back. “That’s like, the second night in a row?”

Owen shakes his head. “I didn’t wake you up, did I?”

“You did, but it’s okay.” Kevin shrugs. “I’m headed to the gym to get some lifting in. Wanna tag along? I need a spotter.”

“I’m not really sure how much help I’d be,” Owen says, turning his attention back to his sketchpad.

His relationship with Kevin’s always been a little tenuous. “Brother of my boyfriend’s sister’s wife” doesn’t exactly roll off the tongue. He’d call Kevin a friend, despite the difference in their age. Still, five years feels like just enough to make things awkward every now and then.

Kevin’s still smiling. “Come on, some exercise might do you some good, get you out of this funk! Always helps me.”

He’s not wrong—Owen used to be a regular at the Y with Jacob. He never weight-lifted all that much, or really did anything harder than cardio and water aerobics classes some early Saturday mornings. But maybe Kevin is right? Getting out of his own head can only help the situation.

Kevin gives Owen enough time to leave his things back in the room and change into shorts. The gym is fancy, treadmills, ellipticals, and bike machines all lined up in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows, giving anyone doing their cardio a gorgeous view outside.

The more involved machines are a bit further back. Chest press, lateral press, and curling machines, weight benches, and some all-in-one machine that Owen can’t even begin to decipher how to use until Kevin makes a rush for it.

He leaps into the air, grabbing onto two handlebars covered in vibrant yellow rubber. With ease, Kevin lifts himself into the air a few times, crossing his legs and counting the reps through heavy grunting before he lets go.

“Ah!” Kevin flexes his arms, stretching them out. “Feels good, right?”

“I, uh . . .” Owen stares. “I don’t think that’s really my style.”

Kevin is giddy as he gives Owen a love tap on the shoulder. “Come on, let’s do warm-ups,” he says, leading Owen over to a row of vacant treadmills. The gym is mostly empty this early in the morning, but there are a handful of people grunting and moaning through their reps, weights falling to the floor as they finish their sets.

Owen taps a few buttons, keeping things simple with low resistance. The next time he looks over at Kevin, he sees the man walking at what looks like an almost forty-five-degree incline.

“So . . . what’s got you so distracted, do you think?” Kevin asks.

“Why are you asking me that?”

Already huffing through his open mouth, Kevin braces himself against the sides of the treadmill, picking up the speed. “Because you’re my friend. And I care about you.”

Owen’s almost touched. Almost.

“Did Abby put you up to this? Or Kaitlyn?”

A look of surprise washes over Kevin’s face. “You know, Owen, I’m appalled that you’d suspect that I don’t care about you. I woke up, realized you were gone, and came hunting for you out of the kindness of my heart!” He even puts a hand over his chest, as if his feelings are actually hurt.

“Oh . . . shit.” Owen’s stoic expression sinks into a frown. “I’m sorry, Kev.”

“It’s okay,” he says, smiling again in an instant. “It was Abby, she asked me to keep an eye out for you.”

Owen rolls his eyes.