Page 80 of Weathering The Storm

He’s able to talk about the future, about moving in together, adopting a dog. And these days, I hardly ever see that tinge of guilt.

“There’s a spot up by the island here that’s really cool during the winter,” Nick mentions, pointing out the small blip of green on the nav screen. “We’ll have to be careful getting through. Tide’s going out, and you can get stuck if you don’t anchor in just the right place, but… it’s worth it.”

He’s not kidding. The water has been glassy for hours now, the movement of the wind and water in sync, but the tides can get crazy in the inlet. 30-foot swings in and out, every six hours. Navigable ocean can turn into miles upon miles of mudflats, and when the tide comes back in, you can find yourself caught up in whitewater rapids if you anchor in the wrong location.

Though I’m nowhere near as comfortable with these waters as Nick is, I don’t doubt that I could follow his instructions to a T. But at the same time… this is his domain. He deserves to know that. To believe in himself as much as I do.

I look from the screen to him, shuffling a half-step to the side. “Do you wanna get us there, Captain?”

Nick stares at the wheel long enough to count the creases in my knuckles. For a second, I think I might’ve misjudged the wistful look on his face, but then he steps over.

I let go of the lacquered wood, and his left hand wraps around it, the right one resting comfortably on the throttle while thosegray-blue eyes scan the horizon, taking in every little detail. It’s the exact posture I’ve seen him in countless times, but this time I can’t stop appreciating how natural it is to him.

This is where Nick is most in his element. The first version of him I fell in love with, before discovering how much I love all the others.

“So.” I rest an arm around the back of his chair as he hangs a left and finally relaxes enough to sit back. “How’s it feel?”

“Easy.” He breathes deeply. “Way easier than I thought it would.”

The mountainous coast we’ve been hugging grows distant as we head further into the inlet. The water becomes murky and slushy, churning against the hull until eventually the sound crisps. Raised discs of pancake ice crunching beneath metal.

“I keep waiting for it to hit me. Panic, or… something.” Nick grips the wheel. “Every day leading up to this, I had this feeling in the pit of my stomach. Kept imagining everything that could go wrong, what would happen if it did, but now I’m… calm. I’ve thought about that night so many times, I forgot all the nights before. I can’t believe I forgot how much I love it here.”

I place a kiss on his shoulder, though I doubt he can feel it through three layers of shirts. “We’ll just have to make the new memories even better then.”

Finally, he gives me the smile I’ve been waiting to see. One that looks confident. Hopeful. “They already are.”

The southern tip of the island comes into view, and Nick maneuvers carefully through the towering shelves of ice that pave the way into the deep-water bight where we’ll be anchoring—shielded from the wind with plenty of leeway for the tide fluctuations.

“We’re just in time,” Nick says as he swings the bow around like second nature.

“Yeah.” I look out the windows. “Light’s fading.”

He shakes his head, flipping the switch to drop the anchor. “Not that. You’ll see.”

I tilt my head, but follow him out to the bow as soon as he’s done. Standing there while he checks the anchor line and searching for whatever it is I’m supposed to see.

Nick sits with his back propped against the front windshield of the wheelhouse, one knee bent with his foot kicked up on the hatch that opens and leads down into the berth. He pats the spot beside him, and I sit.

“Beluga whales?” I ask, scanning the water for any flashes of moving white that might stand apart from the ice.

“Occasionally. But this time…” He points to walls of glacial ice we passed through, and my eyes follow the path of his finger. “Just another minute…”

I wait, silently. And the effect creeps in.

The setting sun curves lower, lower. The ice starts to sparkle and glow, and then…there.At preciselythe right angle, sun raysilluminate the glaciers from within. Suddenly, we’re surrounded by a brilliant maze of neon, glittering, sapphire blue.

“Woah,” I say dumbly.

Sometimes there are no better words. Nature might be able to whup your ass, but it can also smack you speechless.

“Isn’t it cool?” he says proudly. That pioneer in him is coming back out, flexing its muscles after being cooped up for too long.

“It’s fuckingbeautiful,” I say, glancing at him. I wouldn’t forgive myself if I didn’t find out what all those glowing, wintery blues look like reflected in his eyes.

Yeah. That’s fucking beautiful, too.

He notices and pulls me into a kiss, casting an arm around my shoulders as we watch the sun set and the glow fade. In this basin, the waves are docile, lapping things. Nudging ice chunks against the hull of the boat until they scrape. Beyond that sound, a softer noise joins the chorus. Something ringing, whistling. Like a wet finger around the rim of a crystal wine glass.