Page 117 of Endless Depths

“You’re welcome.” I smile.

Smiling doesn’t hurt anymore. Before Seb died, I smiled automatically, loved heartily, and laughed easily. There’s a reason Morgan nicknamed me Sunshine, after all. But I’m not that Cole anymore. The last year changed me, and that’s okay. I still have bad days, but as winter drifted into summer, and the sun emerged from behind a veil of gray, I began to heal.

Now I find my sunshine in Finn’s excitement, in the second wedding band tattoo on my ring finger, in the one on Morgan’s too. I find it in the vintage 42-foot seiner boat Morgan and I are restoring while Finn is at school. I find it in the weekly ferry rides we take as a family, keeping an eye out for Springer, though we haven’t found her yet.

Mack’s heavy footsteps rumble down the hall. He’s about as big and tall as Wes and has a thick gray mustache that reminds me of a walrus.

“You two aren’t flirting again, are you?” Mack asks.

I scoff. “I’m a married man.”

It’s a little shtick we have.

Dr. Evans recommended Mack because he fished the Bering Sea when he was younger. Luckily, Mack could see me before Morgan left to captain theBriarfor opilios. Even with his andShay’s support, I was such a mess, haunted by the memory of Morgan nearly wrenched overboard, haunted by losing Seb, and all the other deaths and injuries I witnessed.

He shakes my hand with rugged strength and familiar callouses. “Welcome back, Cole. You ready?”

I nod. “See you later, Sadie.”

Mack’s office has a view of Elliott Bay. I only learned when we had our first clear day. I flex my abs as I ease down into the oversized chair facing the window. I’m not one hundred percent pain-free. I might never be. But thanks to physical therapy, and a new chronic pain specialist, my days are mostly painless. Well, aside from occasional aches and flare-ups I bring upon myself by overdoing it.

The first few flare-ups were disappointing, but I’ve grown to accept my chronic pain, and learned to live in spite of it.

Mack steeples his fingers. “How are things?”

I sigh. “Mostly good.”

“Mostly?”

“Finn’s birthday is next week.”

“Ah.”

“Yeah. I know I should be happy to celebrate with him. Iamexcited to redeem myself this year, but…”

“You don’t have to be happy. You don’t have to feel anything except what you feel.”

“Right. Sorry.”

We’re still unpacking my issues from childhood. It’s been painful to accept that Dad wasn’t just neglectful, but abusive. I mean, I knew some of the more obvious things were abuse, like threatening to hurt me when he was drunk. But I didn’t see the subtle signs, the lack of love, the cruel comparisons, the neglect.

Mack says the child inside me built a softer narrative to protect me from the full reality of the way my dad treated me. That’s why I tend to brush off his abuse as notthatbad when Mack points it out to me, just like I fail to see the neglect in thefunnychildhood stories I tell.

What hurts the most is knowing that I almost lost Morgan and abandoned Finn because I internalized my dad’s opinion of me. I blamed myself for Seb’s death because my dad would have, and the reason I wished I had died instead, is because that’s what my dad would have said, just like he wished I had died instead of my mother.

That’s why it was so hard for me to forgive myself, and why I hurt the people I love. It almost ruined my life. But I refuse to lose another year of my life to Dad. I refuse to hate myself.

“What are you really feeling?” Mack asks.

My vision blurs on a green and white ferry crossing the bay. “Sick to my stomach with grief.”

“Birthdays and holidays often dredge up old feelings.”

I nod. “When Seb died, my life split into before and after. It’s not just Finn’s birthday, it’s the second birthday after Seb died. And it doesn’t matter if it’s a birthday or a holiday or a haircut. I miss him in every after.”

A tear slides down my cheek. I roll my lips inward and blink. “I was afraid of getting my hair cut when I was younger. It was one of those irrational fears you have as a kid, like getting sucked down the bathtub drain. Stupid, but it was real to me.

“Dad didn’t understand that though. He dragged me out of the car, and carted me into the barber shop under his arm like a barrel, then dropped me onto the chair.” I laugh dryly. “Which only made it worse.”