Page 79 of Weathering The Storm

“Yeah. No one’s ever gonna top it.”

“Don’t know if you can say that when you haven’t technically gotten it yet.”

“Oh, I can.”

He still had that childlike Christmas-Day smile on his face as he reached across to the nightstand and grabbed the buffalo check collar, rubbing the blank tag between his fingers.

I’d wrapped it in a necklace box. Told him we should get that dog he’s always wanted. Maybe only one for now though, to see how it goes. I called the shelter down the road, and they just got in a litter of puppies that’ll be up for adoption in two weeks.

Seth had dropped the box and threw his arms around my neck, crawling into my lap in front of everyone as we sat in front of the Christmas tree.

The kids went absolutely nuts.

“Uncle Seth, are you getting a dog?”

“Can I play with it?”

“What are you gonna name it?”

“You should name it Rudolph.”

The last one was Robbie’s suggestion, and Seth brushed it off. Fully absorbed with me as he told his nephew that was a great suggestion.

As soon as the kid got distracted, I vetoed the hell out of that.

“My name is Nicolas. I can’t be walking around with a dog named Rudolph, Rit.”

Seth found that entertaining enough, I’m mildly concerned he’s going to insist on giving our dog a reindeer name. And just like Perry, all I’ll be able to say is, “Anything you want.”

I’ll start mentally preparing for the Santa Claus jokes, just in case.

Nick

Chapter 22

Seth

It feels good to be back out on the water again.

I have a skiff I use in the creeks, but I can’t remember the last time I’ve spent the night on a boat for pleasure rather than work. Nick’s cuddy cabin boat is perfect though. Twenty-eight feet, with a V-shaped berth that fits the two of us comfortably enough for sleeping and plenty of deck space for fishing. Not that we’ve done any of that the last two days.

So far, we’ve just been cruising around the Cook Inlet, talking about life and taking in the mountain views during the slim daylight hours. When night falls, we settle into a protected anchorage, Nick whips up something that has no business tasting as good as it does with a single burner, single pot, andsingle spoon, and we have dinner on deck, bundled in several layers of clothing and blankets.

I don’t know why I got him those gloves—the single thing that made it with him off theSuoja—because he’s insisted that I keep them on until we tuck in for the night. My hands aren’tthatcold, but I’m okay with placating him.

I hoped coming out here would be healing for him, but I find it is for me, too. A part of me still recoils when I see a chunk of sea ice and a hazy memory comes back. The vacant chill as my body started shutting down.

But can anything worth living for exist without danger?

Can you appreciate warm, sunny summer days without the icy, mellow winters? Can you truly love someone without the fear of losing them?

It’s all balance. Balance is the feeling that comes to me out here. I can only hope this trip is helping Nick find his balance again, too.

So far, I’ve done all the driving as promised, but sometimes he watches me with more intent than simple admiration. He looks restless sitting beside me. Like he doesn’t know what to do with himself when he’s not the one steering.

Like he misses it.

I don’t entirely know what he’s going through right now, so I don’t want to pressure him, but at the same time he’s seemed better lately. The nightmares have calmed. He’s been opening upto me about his therapy sessions—I’ve even gone to a few with him.