“What? No.” He shoved a hand through his hair. Why wouldn’t he want to spend a whole night with a woman? That made no sense, especially in Alaska. Body heat was important. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”
She sat up, the comforter falling to her waist, exposing her breasts, with those pink rosebud nipples. If she didn’t cover up right away, he might forget what he wanted to say.
Luckily, she drew the comforter all the way up. “All right, then, let’s have it. Is this deep dark secret time?”
“If you want to just get back to the sex part—”
“No.” She made a little face. “Sorry, it’s just a habit of mine. I’m interested. Go ahead.”
“I’m divorced,” he began.
“You mentioned that already.”
He continued on, because she didn’t know it all. “I failed. I had the idea that since I was the breadwinner, I didn’t have to do anything besides work and bring home the dough. I did that part just fine.”
Lulu rested her head against the headboard, her hair tumbling over her bare shoulders. “It sounds like you were young and trying to take care of business.”
“No. I was just young and stupid. My father tried to warn me but I was a cocky little shit. Then I found out that Julie had slept with someone else, and I couldn’t forgive her. She cried and tried to explain how lonely she was, but I was so full of myself I couldn’t listen. She left after that. I felt like such a fucking failure. It opened my eyes.”
Lulu was listening closely but for once, he couldn’t read her expression. “To what?”
“That things weren’t as easy as I thought. I failed at marriage. But I always told myself it’s okay, at least I’m a great fisherman. Captain of my own boat by the age of twenty-four, I got it paid off in full three years later, kind of a superstar, honestly. Crew respects me, they make good money with me. Excellent safety record. I figured that was my life. My zone. My thing. And then…” He touched the side of his head, the scar hidden behind his hair, which was still growing out now.
Lulu sat up and beckoned for him to come next to her. “I noticed that patch there. I was too polite to ask, and also we were being chased by a kidnapper. What is it?”
He stepped to the side of the bed and sat down with his wounded side facing her. With her fingers, she lightly explored the puckered scar on his skull. “Surgery for a brain bleed sustained during an accident at sea. It was my fault. Huge storm off the coast of Kodiak Island, and I knew it was coming. But our onboard freezer was failing and I had a huge catch to bring in. I took a chance that we could skirt the storm and get home.”
“What happened?”
“We struck a sandbar and nearly got swamped. Bo, the new deckhand, awesome kid, nearly got swept off the boat. I went after him and managed to grab him, but a piece of the crane came loose and slammed me in the head. He had a concussion too. Nineteen, first time at sea. Another of my crew, Ralphie Reed, got impaled right through the shoulder.”
He felt her hand move from his scar to the back of his neck. She stroked him lightly there, kneading out the tension in his tendons. “I’ve heard that commercial fishing is dangerous.”
“Very. It’s always up there on the list of most dangerous professions. My insurance is ridiculous. I think that’s one of the things that draws us to it. Life on the edge, you know.” He gave a wry laugh. “Until something happens. It hits a little different after that.”
“So you had brain surgery…is it all better?”
“I don’t know. I think so. Dr. Finnegan says I’m in good shape. But brain trauma is tricky. I wish I’d gotten some other injury. Broken bone, severed artery, amputated foot. I know that sounds morbid, but knowing that someone had to go inside my brain and take out a blood clot—fuck, it messed with my head. I got depressed afterwards. I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d failed my crew, and even my boat. The Desperado needed repairs after that. Nothing new there, she needs repairs every winter, but this time it was my fault. And Bo, poor kid… ” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, shaking her away. “I just want you to know I’m a fuckup, that’s all. Seems like you should know.”
A short silence followed that embarrassing confession. The moments ticked past, painfully.
“You might have mentioned that earlier, before you heroically saved me and Raul from kidnappers,” she said eventually.
“Not heroic—”
“Wait, didn’t you save Bo’s life? Or did I get the story wrong?”
“I saved him after I put him in danger,” he corrected. “Big difference.” Surely anyone could see that.
She clapped her hands together. “Your dream! Was this what you were talking about the other night? The dream that wasn’t a dream?”
“Yes. Happens now and then, like a dream but it’s exactly what happened. I’m reliving it all over again.”
Nodding, she drew up her knees and wrapped her arms around them. “I do that sometimes. It sounds like a scary experience. Did anyone on your crew die?”
“What? No.” The thought made him scowl and mutter a quick and silent prayer. Please don’t let me ever lose a crew member.
“And your boat is still functional. You’re still functional. I’m no expert but it sounds like a successful disaster.”
“A successful disaster?”
“My mother’s terminology. She always said that disasters happen. It’s a general rule of life. The question is how you handle them.” Her voice caught, and he glanced over at her.
“Sorry,” she said, clearing her throat. “Her disaster was getting sick. Well, I suppose she had other disasters too. Leaving home, getting dumped by my father, being stuck with me.”
“I’m sure she didn’t see it that way—” he began, but she cut him off.
“Oh, she did when I was a baby. My mother didn’t dance around things. My mother was very…blunt. She didn’t believe in being mopey or maudlin. She was the most unsentimental person I’ve ever known. You know what she would have told you?”
He pulled a face. “Something about a successful disaster?”
“Probably. She would have told you to buck up and get on with it. But I’m not her and I would never say something like that. It’s too simple, you know? Easy for her to say. We used to argue about it. She’d say,” here she launched into a more-proper British accent, ‘I’m the one dying, and I say buck up, Louise.’ And I’d say, ‘I’m the one who’s going to get stuck grieving for you, so don’t tell me what to do.’”
She laughed, the sound riding on a sob. This time he was the one who rubbed her neck, comforting her the way she had him.
“She sounds like a real firecracker.”
“Yes. We were quite close. Only child, single mother. But all of that’s beside the point. You wanted to tell me a few things about yourself. Is that it? The divorce and the accident?”
“And the surgery.”
“Brain surgery. Got it. What else?”
He thought about it. “Dropping out of the mayoral race was kind of a dick move.”