Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time Jamie saw the cat, he was hauling the last load of red snapper off his boat. He’d just dumped the last carton onto Chris’s table when a fish toppled to the cement below. Before Jamie could make a move to grab it or even do more than look at it, a sleek black cat leapt forward and grabbed it, speeding away with it clutched between its teeth. Jamie stared after it for a moment before laughing—the fish was almost bigger than the cat itself, but that didn’t stop the cat from making a speedy and almost even graceful getaway.

“New cat?” Jamie asked as he and Chris loaded the catch onto the scale.

“No, just another stray. Smart one, though,” Chris said, wiping the sweat off his brow. It was mid-morning, but August in southern Louisiana (by the coast or not) was hot and humid no matter what time of day it was. “She should be the fattest cat in the state by now, with how many fish I’ve seen her get away with.”

Jamie chuckled, still gazing at the corner the cat had disappeared around. They used to have a cat on board, a big tabby tomcat named Tom, because that’s how creative they were with pet names. Or his dad was, anyway. Tom had sailed with them for years before he passed away, spending his days sunbathing on the deck and curling up on top of Paul’s head when he slept. The memory brought a smile to Jamie’s face, and then he pressed down the grief and guilt that always crept up whenever he thought about his dad.

It would be a year next month, and while the grief was far less intense than those first few months, it was still very much there. Jamie knew it would never truly go away. Just like he knew he deserved to feel every inch of it for the rest of his life.

“Pretty good haul,” Chris said after he had tallied up Jamie’s catch and they’d settled up. One of Chris’s employees, Leo, started separating and packing up the fish. They’d be taken to local restaurants and distributors and would be somebody’s meal within the next few days, if not today. “Especially seeing as you’re running with rookies,” Chris continued, wiping his hands on his apron.

“They learn quick,” Jamie said, giving Chris a brief smile. It was true that having an experienced crew made a huge difference, but for the most part, Jamie had gotten lucky with his hires, especially the past few months.

He’d just paid Peter his last paycheck a few hours ago, and Jamie was sad to see him go. Peter was heading back to LSU, working toward a science degree. He got some kind of extra credit for working on the boat, though Jamie wasn’t exactly sure what for—he hadn’t needed an internship for credit back when he was at school. He’d been happy to sign the forms for Peter; he was a good kid. Reminded Jamie of when he was Peter’s age, working with his dad for the summer. Back when working the boat had just been something he did to help out his parents during semester breaks, back before his mom died.

“Glad to hear it,” Chris said. He paused, his tone growing more serious as he continued, “We all sure do miss seeing Paul around.” Jamie knew he meant it; his dad and Chris had spent more than a few nights drinking, exchanging stories, and bitching about the Saints. When Jamie was around, they’d made sure to include him. Not that Jamie had been around much, back then, once the work day was done, most nights he was gone, to the nearest bar or club. Even if those were over an hour away in Houma. Two hours to NOLA, if he had the next day off.

Jamie glanced away, regret crawling up his spine. He knew Chris didn’t blame him for Paul’s death. No one did, really. It had been a horrible accident.

One that Jamie could have easily stopped, if he’d been there like he was supposed to have been.

“Yeah,” Jamie said. “Me too.”

“So you’re gonna stick with it?” Chris asked, his blue eyes trained on Jamie. “Fishing, the business?”

Jamie chuckled. People were surprised when he’d shown up the day after his dad’s funeral, prepping the boat like it was any other day. He was sure everyone had expected him to leave town, to pick up his life where he’d left it when his mom died right after he graduated college. But Jamie hadn’t left his life anywhere, he’d carried it right back with him to Grand Isle, and had spent the past five years living it with his dad, out on the gulf waters. They’d had rough patches, for sure, but he’d enjoyed it more than he was willing to say to anyone, especially his dad. And that was a regret he’d carry with him for the rest of his life.

It was comforting in a way nothing else was, sticking to the routine (minus the nights out; those habits had died along with his dad), and he’d kept right on doing it for the past several months. He’d gotten a few offers for the boat, none of which he’d considered. Just the thought of letting go of something that his family had put so much work into made him sick to his stomach. That boat had meant so much to his dad, and held so many years of memories. The least Jamie could do was keep it up and running as long as possible.

“What else would I do?” he asked.

Chris shrugged. “You got that fancy degree.”

Jamie resisted the urge to point out that a bachelor’s degree in math really wasn’t all that fancy. “Yeah, well. It’s a few years out of date.”

“That doesn’t mean nothing,” Chris informed him, with that ‘I’m so much older and wiser than you’ air of superiority. Jamie resisted another urge, this one to remind Chris that he was only ten years older than Jamie, not thirty. “Just having it is the important part. Plus, how much can math really change?”

“You’d be surprised,” he said wryly.

“I’m just saying,” Chris continued. “Fishing was your dad’s life, doesn’t have to be yours. What was it he always used to say?” He frowned, and Jamie’s heart started to beat harder in his chest. “Men go fishing without bait or something—”

“Many men go fishing all of their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after,” Jamie recited, exhaling a long breath after. He was looking out at the water now, swallowing over the lump forming in his throat. He pulled his ball cap a little lower on his head, hoping it would hide any emotion that may show on his face.

“Yeah,” Chris said, either not noticing or ignoring how close Jamie was to losing it. “You have options beyond living your life on a boat.” He kept his focus on Jamie, and Jamie cleared his throat, knowing this was the part where he was supposed to ask, ‘Gosh Chris, like what kind of options?’

But Jamie wasn’t in the mood. Life on the water suited his dad, and it would suit Jamie just as well. He shrugged, swallowing down his emotions. “Maybe I like the boat.”

Chris nodded, looking away, one corner of his mouth pulling up into a smile. “Suit yourself.” He didn’t say anything else, and relief washed through James as he realized Chris was going to let him make an escape without having a breakdown at his stall.

Jamie grabbed his dolly and hauled his empty crates back to his boat. Peter had already cleaned the deck before he left that morning, and all Jamie had left to do was clean the hold and his bunk before he ran a few errands and checked on the house. Normally he’d ready the nets for the next trip, but he was going to take the rest of the day and tomorrow off.

Or he was going to try, anyway.

It had been a lucrative summer, better than he expected for not only his first one as a solo skipper, but without his dad. He had no idea if karma was trying to balance out his grief by sending him all the fish, but he wasn’t going to complain. It helped to be busy, to not have time to focus on who wasn’t there, and to be so tired at the end of the day that he fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. He’d hardly taken a single day off all summer, and now fall was around the corner and the tourists were heading home, the buyers wouldn’t be at the marina as often. There would be days when it wouldn’t be worth the money to be out on the boat, burning fuel and paying a deckhand.

Days when he’d be left alone, without the comforting sway of the gulf waters beneath him. Days like today.

He went to the grocery store for some food; whatever was in the house would probably not be edible since he hadn’t been there in over a week. The house was just as he left it though, locked up tight with the grass in need of a mow. He didn’t spend much time there; just long enough to check the mail, and take a shower (the hand shower on the boat did the job well enough, but it was nothing compared to a real shower in a real, full-sized bathroom, especially since he’d let his hair grow out over the past year) and put a load of laundry in the washer.

He and his dad used to sleep at the house most nights, but since Paul died, Jamie found it easier to fall asleep on the boat. His bed at the house, though much more comfortable, was just too still. Too eerily quiet without the splashing of the water against the hull or the seagulls squawking above.

The next stop was the flea market on Main Street. He took his time saying hi to the shop owners and locals that he knew, which was most of them. He’d lived in Grand Isle his entire life (save the four years he was up at LSU), and his parents their entire lives before him. It was ironic that he was now so comforted by the familiar people and places he’d once wanted nothing more than to get away from.

He picked through the lots of antique jewelry, looking for pocket watches. It was useless, he knew, but he couldn’t help but check. He found a couple among the stalls, all looked old enough, but two were gold, and the silver one didn’t have the engraving on it. After picking up a few books and Blu-rays for in-boat entertainment, it was near dinner time, so he stopped by the Lighthouse for dinner. It was close to the marina, owned by a pair of siblings, Sean and Heather, who had taken it over after their parents retired.

Heather was working the bar tonight, and Jamie shoved down the little pang of disappointment that her brother must have the night off. Sean was smart, funny, and when he and Jamie had the time, they could easily kill an evening talking about movies, comic books, and drinking crappy beer. He was probably also the only other guy within 50 miles that could hold an entire conversation without mentioning the Saints or the Tigers even once.

Sean was pretty easy on the eyes, too. They’d never crossed that line, though Jamie had thought about it, and had flirted pretty shamelessly. But Jamie flirted with everyone, or at least he used to, and he knew Sean never read anything more into it than that. And Jamie had let him, because Sean was a good friend. If it ever went any farther than that, Jamie would fuck it up. He was good at a lot of things, but building a healthy romantic relationship was not one of them—that was one of the many things he’d learned about himself at college.

That’s why, back when he used to flirt and fuck at any opportunity, he stuck to tourists. He’d give them a night to remember, and then he’d be up and out in the morning, straggling back to the boat just before sunrise with hickies all over his neck, his dad shaking his head at him.

He could perfectly remember his last night like that; it had been almost a year ago. And since that night, he’d kept himself so busy that he barely had time for more than a quick bite and a short conversation with those he thought of as friends, let alone trying to pick up a stranger. And honestly, the idea of it didn’t hold near the same appeal that it used to.

Heather gave Jamie a friendly smile as he slid onto a stool, and in seconds she had an amber ale open and in front of him.

“Bless you,” he said, taking a sip of the ice-cold beer, closing his eyes at how good it tasted on his tongue.

“No problem,” she said. “Good to see you. It’s been a minute.” Jamie nodded, too busy taking another gulp to reply and she continued, “You want the special? Pretty sure you caught it.”

He laughed and shook his head. He had cooked and eaten more than enough fish in his lifetime that he basically never ate it if anything else was an option. “A burger would be great.”

They chatted in between customers, Heather telling him about the trouble her two boys were getting into, and a half-hour later his belly was pleasantly full and his head was pleasantly buzzing. He stuffed the last bite of pie in his mouth, laughing as Heather told him about how her son Zac had dented Sean’s car with a badly-aimed bottle rocket back in July.

“It’s good to see you smiling again,” she said as she cleared his plate. “Thought your face might have stuck in a permanent frown.”

Jamie shrugged and gave Heather his best charming smile. “I guess you just bring it out in me.” They both knew the flirting was harmless; Heather had been happily married for years.

“Mmhmm,” she said, heading towards the other end of the bar where a waitress was trying to get her attention. “Don’t bat your eyes at me; Sean’ll get pissed. He’ll already be mad he missed you tonight.”

That perked Jamie’s ears up. “Why would he care who I bat my eyes at?”

Heather was already waving him off, and Jamie shook his head, taking that as his cue to leave. He should call Sean or text him, it had been months since they’d done more than a quick hello, and he even reached into his pocket for his phone as he headed towards the exit. But it was late, he was tired, and Sean had a way of making Jamie talk about the things he’d rather forget. Add in the fact that Jamie was slightly tipsy, and that was a conversation best saved for tomorrow.

He waved goodbye to Natalie, the hostess, as he left, fully intending to head back to his house for his first night of sleep in his actual house in days. But instead, he found his feet taking him down the familiar path to the marina, and then to his slip.

It was drizzling, but between the ball cap on his head and the fact that Jamie was so used to the spray from the boat, he hardly noticed. The moon was full, and when it broke through the clouds it cast a bright glow over the water. He stopped and looked at the boat—his boat, he reminded himself—sighing a little as he listened to the sound of the rain hitting the gulf and the waves gently cresting against the hull.

The Blue Gayle was a 36-foot gillnetter and longliner. His parents had bought her nearly twenty years ago; back then she was named the Moonlight Lady. After his mom died five years ago, his dad renamed the boat after her. And he’d added blue, because it was her favorite color. And then he’d had the boat repainted blue, because ‘a boat with blue in the name should be blue, goddammit.’

Jamie smiled at the memory, even as it was accompanied with a pang of grief he was far too used to now. His mom would have said she hated that, having the boat named after her, even though Jamie knew she would have secretly loved it. Jamie had wondered if he should change the name again now that his dad had passed, but he knew both his parents would have hated that.

And it would be kind of morbid.

That boat was the only family he had left. He had no siblings, and no relatives anywhere close on either side. He and his parents had made several improvements to the boat over the years, replacing the engine, upgrading equipment, and (after fighting with his dad about it for over a year) installing some tech in the helm. She was a finer boat than she had any right to be, and Jamie felt like his heart was swelling and sinking all at once as he stared at her.

“Alright,” he said to himself as he slowly stepped toward the Gayle, wiping away a few drops of water off his face, “stop being the depressed half-drunk asshole standing in the rain on the docks. Go sleep it off in your boat like a real fisherman.”

The cabin was small, with just enough room for two bunks across from each other. He’d left one of the small windows open so the air could circulate, and he flicked on a lamp and a small fan as he walked in. One bunk was bare; usually it was a mess of clothes, his spare laptop, and random books and DVDs, but it had been Peter’s bunk while he was working. The other bunk had Jamie’s rumpled sleeping bag, and he yawned as he toed off his shoes. He’d been up since 5 AM, and the day was quickly catching up with him. A few moments later he was turning off the lamp and tumbling onto his bunk in his boxers.

And two seconds later he was bouncing back up as he landed on something that was somehow both soft and sharp all at once, that let out a loud squeak as he scrambled to his feet.

“What the shit—?” The moonlight streaming into his bunk was just enough to catch two bright eyes staring up at him, and then he heard a plaintive meow as he turned on the lamp.

Splayed out on his sleeping bag (actually halfway inside it), looking very much like she owned the place, was the black cat he’d seen steal one of his fish earlier that day. She only seemed mildly annoyed by the interruption in her sleep, and as he stared down at her, his mouth hanging open, she delicately licked a paw and ran it over her ear.

“How did you get in here?” he asked, and then waited, like she might actually answer him. He shook his head at himself and then glanced around—the window. It was only open maybe three inches, but that was basically an engraved invitation for a cat to come in out of the rain and curl up on something soft and warm. That something being his sleeping bag.

He kept staring at her, at a loss for what to do. There were several cats around the marina, it came with the territory, but most were very skittish or feral. Very few were as friendly as this one was, and almost none would stick around after he’d nearly crushed them. She wasn’t barebones skinny, but she wasn’t overweight either, and her black coat glistened as she continued to bathe herself, seemingly nonplussed by his presence. Every few seconds she’d glance up and blink those big green eyes up at him, and then go back to her bath. She could belong to one of the other fishermen, or even a local—lost and just looking for a safe place to crash.

“Well,” he said with a sigh, sitting a couple of feet away from her on the edge of his bunk, “welcome to the Blue Gayle. I’ll tell you to make yourself comfortable, but seems like you’ve already done that.”

She looked at him again, and this time she let out a louder meow, as though she was saying, ‘Thanks,’ and he chuckled. “You’re a talker, eh?”

She let out another mew in response, and he couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. Slowly, so she could see what he was doing, he extended his arm until his hand was a couple of inches in front of her face. Then he held it there, waiting.

She blinked at his hand, and then leaned forward, lightly sniffing his fingers. Then she pressed forward, rubbing the side of her face along his knuckles. He felt stupidly pleased that she hadn’t bolted, a warm feeling spreading through his chest as he ran his hand down her back. Her fur was as soft as it looked, and a low rumble started as he continued petting her.

“You sure are friendly,” he said. “You have an owner somewhere nearby?”

She didn’t reply, but instead looked at him, and then curled into some weird bendy shape, her paws up in the air as a loud purr filled the air. The invitation was clear: ‘Touch the belly. Rub it. You know you want to.’

Ugh, he thought, that’s so fucking cute. And totally a trap.

But she kept purring, and he couldn’t resist giving her belly a few scritches. She tolerated it for approximately three seconds before she grabbed his wrists with her paws, her claws extending.

“Okay, okay,” he said, extricating his hand before she could draw blood. “You got me.” He gave her a scratch behind her ears, and she flopped back over, pressing into his touch.

“Look,” he said with a sigh, “you’re real cute, but someone is probably missing you right now. You can stay here tonight, and tomorrow we’ll see if we can find your owner, okay?”

She looked up at him and gave a long slow blink. Then she stood up, taking a good thirty seconds to languidly stretch. His heart started to sink, because it looked like she was getting ready to be on her way. Which was stupid, for him to be upset because some cat—one that he didn’t even know existed until this morning—was going to leave him and get on with her life.

But instead of jumping out the window he hadn’t closed yet, she only took a few steps and curled up at the top of the pillow on his bunk. Just like old Tom used to do when his dad was getting ready for bed.

Jamie watched her get settled, and then he turned off the lamp, gingerly crawling on top of his sleeping bag. In the summer, it was too warm to sleep inside it, and instead he used a thin blanket that was probably older than he was. He laid his head down on his pillow, and immediately the cat snuggled closer, sort of molding herself to his scalp. It was warm and comforting, and for some reason tears sprang to his eyes.

He only laid there for a few seconds, feeling the motion of the boat gently rocking in the water, listening to the light rain pattering on the roof of the cabin and the rumble of the cat's purr before he fell into a deep, restful sleep.

~~~

The cat was still there when he blinked awake around 5 AM the next morning, his body unable to let him sleep past sunrise. He could feel her warmth on his head, and he reached up blindly to pet her as he yawned. She immediately started purring, and he grinned as he rolled over onto his side, easily sliding back into sleep.

When he woke up, the morning sunshine was streaming into the cabin, and the cat was still in her spot. He gave her a few lazy pets as he yawned and sat up.

She followed him as he brushed his teeth and put on clean clothes, which made him remember he had never gone back to the house yesterday to transfer the washed load to the dryer. He added that to his mental to-do list, which included checking the nets, finding a new deckhand—

A tiny meow interrupted his thoughts, and he looked down at the cat, who had followed him into the galley and was rubbing up against the fridge. That was another thing he had to do today—find out if she belonged to someone.

“You hungry?” he asked, squatting down and scritching between her ears. She mewed again, and he opened the fridge. There was milk in there, but he’d heard that wasn’t good for cats. There was some lunch meat, and he grabbed that and put it on the small counter area. She immediately jumped up on the counter, watching with interest, and he gently scooped her up and put her back down on the floor. After which she immediately jumped back up and rubbed against his arm.

“Look,” he said, again gently placing her back on the ground, and squatting down in front of her, petting her back as he spoke. “I know you think you’re in charge here, but it’s actually me. The human that owns this boat, aka the Captain, aka the Skipper. We’re gonna have to have some rules.” He wagged his finger in front of her face, and her big eyes almost went cross-eyed as she focused on it, and then she shoved her face against the tip of his finger. It was through laughter as he continued, “And the first one is, ‘No cats on the counter.’” He gave her a last pet and then stood up, ripping the ham into little pieces and putting it on a small plate.

She stayed on the ground, rubbing against his ankles and meowing. When he set the plate down in front of her, she immediately jumped on it, devouring the meat. He placed another small bowl of water next to her, and once the meat was gone, she lapped at the water. Then she gazed up at him, letting out another small mew before rubbing up against his ankles. He couldn’t resist scratching her under the chin before putting the dishes away.

“I’m gonna go take a walk around the marina and see if anyone’s missing a cat,” he told her, not lingering on the thought of how he’d talked to this cat more in the past twelve hours than he had most people in the past year. “You wanna come with me?”

She rubbed up against his ankle, and then the fridge, and then trotted out of the galley back into his bunk. He followed her, watching as she leapt onto his bunk and curled up on his pillow.

“Well, I guess that answers that,” he said. He stepped over and petted her head a few times, and she started purring. He glanced at the window, which was still open a few inches. He could close it, and when he locked up the boat she wouldn’t be able to leave. But he didn’t like the idea of trapping her in the boat, not if she wasn’t really his (yet). And he also really didn’t like the idea of her using his bunk as a litter box. In the end, he left the window cracked open and headed down the marina.

It was less crowded than usual, which was typical with summer coming to an end. He chatted with a few people, many of whom seemed surprised he was starting a conversation, and genuinely happy to talk to him. Some recalled seeing the black cat around; apparently, she was quite the little fish thief.

“If she’s yours, keep her out of my stall,” Mr. Rodrigeuz had practically growled at him. “Don’t need no damn cat stealing from me.”

He wound up back by the Lighthouse, which was closed, but Sean was out back, receiving a shipment of fruit and vegetables. The back door to the restaurant was propped open, and Sean broke into a wide grin when he saw Jamie approach.

“Hey, man,” he said, extending a hand. Jamie took it and shook, and was surprised when Sean pulled him into a half-hug. “Heather said you stopped by last night. Good to see you.”

“Yeah, you too.” Jamie awkwardly patted Sean on the back and pulled away, trying not to think about the warmth of Sean’s hand on his own. “Prepping for today?”

“Yeah,” Sean said, wiping the sweat off his brow. He turned and looked at the last few crates of produce. “My day to work the delivery, since Heather closed last night. Not too bad, though.” He grabbed one of the crates, and Jamie tried not to focus on how tightly his navy blue shirt pulled across his biceps and pecs, or how the sweat dripped down his dark skin. It was weird; he’d never held back in ogling Sean before, or outright telling him he looked good, but doing that now felt—weird.

“Let me help you.” Jamie grabbed the last crate and followed Sean into the kitchen. He nodded to Joaquin, one of the cooks, who pointed at a prep table, and Jamie set the crate of tomatoes and onions there.

“Thanks,” Sean said, directing Jamie back outside. “So how you been? What you been up to?” he asked as he picked up a hose and started cleaning off the loading area.

It was easy, talking to Sean, telling him about his fruitful summer, and training Peter. In turn, Sean told Jamie about the movies he’d missed out on and a few of the new recipes they were trying out in the restaurant. It seemed like no time at all had passed before Jaoquin stuck his head out the door and let Sean know they’d be opening in a half-hour.

“Shit,” Jamie said, checking the time on his phone, “I didn’t mean to keep you from work.”

“Trust me,” Sean told him with a wide smile, “you’re a distraction I’m always happy to see.”

Jamie smiled back, feeling his face warm. This was exactly how he and Sean treated each other, harmless flirting, but this felt more—deliberate, somehow. Like Sean was testing the waters in a new way. And that idea terrified Jamie far less than it used to.

“So think you might be coming around more often?” Sean asked, interrupting Jamie’s thoughts. “Everyone’s missed you at game night at Teresa’s.”

A stab of guilt hit Jamie as he was reminded of just how much he’d checked out of his life after Paul died. Teresa was the owner of a comic shop up in Houma, technically it was named ‘Local Comic Shop,’ but everyone just called it Teresa’s. There were game nights every Thursday night, and Jamie was a regular. It would be fun to go back and play a few games and see everyone, but it also felt really fucking scary. It had been so long, what if there wasn’t a place for him there anymore? What if he forgot how to play? What if someone mentioned Paul and he broke down sobbing?

“Maybe,” he said with a shrug. “I dunno.”

“Okay,” Sean immediately responded, keeping his attention on putting a new trash bag in the bin. “No pressure.”

“Was that where you were last night?” Jamie asked, still running the idea through his mind.

“Nah. Had a date.” Sean’s voice was flippant, like it was no big deal, but Jamie’s stomach immediately dropped to his feet. So much for testing the waters, Jamie thought. He shouldn’t be surprised, Sean liked to date just as much as Jamie did, though his relationships tended to last longer than Jamie’s. Which didn’t mean much, since after college, Jamie’s average was about twelve hours or so.

“Oh,” he said, hoping his voice didn’t reflect how disappointed he felt. “Uh. How was it?” He regretted the question as soon as it was out of his mouth, he didn’t actually want to know. Which was another weird thing—he’d always been more than happy to hear about Sean’s social life and vice versa. But now he was dreading Sean’s response—unless the date was horrible. But then he felt bad, because Sean deserved to have good dates.

Good lord, what is wrong with you? He thought grief was supposed to toughen you up, not make you all soft.

“Fine,” Sean said with a shrug. “He was nice enough.”

That didn’t sound like a very strong declaration, but Jamie reminded himself that it was none of his damn business and changed the subject. “Hey, you know anyone missing a black cat?”

“No,” Sean said, rolling with the subject change. “Heather has a couple, a maine coon and this big fat tabby. You found one?”

“Yeah, one showed up on my boat. I think she’s still there.” Hoped she was still there, anyway. “She’s real friendly, figured she might have an owner.”

Sean frowned, and then turned his full attention to Jamie. “Wait. You said a black cat? Does it have big green eyes?”

Jamie’s heart started to sink; if Sean knew the cat, then the owner probably wasn’t far behind. “Yeah.”

Sean shook his head, a smirk forming on his face. “Little shit stole from us last week. Slipped in the kitchen and took a pork chop right off Joaquin’s station. I thought he was gonna murder her. She showed up on your boat?”

Jamie nodded, chuckling. “I left one of the cabin windows open last night.”

“You feed her?”

“She was hungry,” Jamie said with a shrug.

Sean laughed then, and Jamie wondered how he’d never noticed how much he enjoyed that sound. “Congrats on your new cat, Skipper. There’s no way you’re getting rid of her now.” He clamped a big hand on Jamie’s shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Keep her fed so she doesn’t get herself killed stealing from the wrong stall.”

Jamie nodded, laughing along with Sean, feeling slightly dazed from the past few minutes. He felt like he’d taken a ride on a rollercoaster, and all he could say was, “Yeah.”

“Bring her down to the vet,” Sean said, moving towards the door to the kitchen. “They can see if she’s chipped. But I’m pretty sure no one will come looking for her. And you’ll want to get her shots and all that. Pass by Heather’s, she’ll loan you one of her cat carriers. She should be awake by now.”

Jamie nodded; his to-do list had just doubled. “Okay. Thanks, Sean. I’ll see ya.” He gave Sean a friendly wave, firmly putting the weird fuzzy feelings he’d developed in the past five minutes to the back of his mind.

“Sure hope so,” Sean said, flashing Jamie another smile.

Well, shit, Jamie thought as the warm fuzzies overtook his stomach again.

~~~

The Cat (which is how Jamie referred to her in his head, because he had no idea what to name her) was still in his cabin when he made it back to the Gayle with Heather’s cat carrier and a little bag of cat treats. He’d managed to get an appointment with a vet technician at the nearest vet, which was still a forty-minute drive. The Cat meowed up at him in greeting, stretching lazily and immediately cutting between his legs to the galley, where she rubbed up against the fridge.

“Hungry again?” Jamie asked. He plunked a few of the cat treats down on the plate he’d left on the floor for her, which she turned her nose up at in favor of rubbing on the fridge. But after a few minutes, she gave in and chomped down, at which point he gave her some pets, and then picked her up to easily deposit her in the cat carrier.

There was nothing ‘easy’ about it, and he quickly figured out this was going to be his first trial as a cat owner. She did not want to get in that carrier, and she scrambled away from him, ears down and glaring at him in betrayal. It made him feel incredibly shitty, like he'd insulted her mother or something. Fifteen minutes, a few hisses, and several scratches on his arm later, he managed to get her in the carrier, along with a few pieces of ham. She ate them, growling angrily the entire time. It would almost be adorable if he didn’t feel like the biggest jerk for just trying to take care of her.

The vet tech, a cute, short blonde named Gwen, confirmed the cat was indeed a ‘she,’ was not chipped, was probably around a year old from how her teeth looked and wasn’t spayed. They gave her a set of shots, and the vet did a physical exam, which the cat was surprisingly chill for. She’d howled the entire way to the vet, and he’d expected her to come out spitting when he opened the carrier. But she’d just jumped gracefully onto the vet’s exam table, sniffing everything she could while purring loudly. He’d tried to pet her, but she’d dance just out of his reach, turning her nose up at him. But when the vet tech came in, she immediately moved closer to him, allowing him to pet and soothe her through the exam and shots.

“She likes you,” Gwen said, smiling as the Cat shoved her face into Jamie’s palm. “Got a name yet?”

“No idea,” he said, scratching under her neck, which just made her purr louder. “Never heard a cat purr this loud.”

“Yeah, she’s got a motor,” Gwen replied, smiling. “She’s stressed. Cats can purr when they’re scared, happy, all kinds of reasons.” She looked him over, in a way that used to be all too familiar to Jamie. “You said you found her on your boat; you work at the marina?”

“Yeah, have a small fishing outfit.” He gave her a distracted smile; a year ago he would have been all over a woman (or anyone) looking at him that way, but right now all he was thinking of was that he had to get the Cat back in that damn carrier and listen to her howl for another forty minutes. And he didn’t bring any ham for the trip home.

“Black cats are supposed to be good luck on boats,” Gwen said.

“Are they, now?” Jamie asked. “I sure could use some.”

“I bet you do just fine,” Gwen said, her tone teasing.

Jamie gave her a small smile, and then turned towards the carrier. “Can you help me get her back in here? And I can set her up to get spayed and chipped?”

“Of course,” Gwen said, her tone more polite. It was much easier to get the Cat back in the carrier with two people, and Jamie made an appointment to have her back in a couple of days. He spent his drive home with one hand on the wheel, the other sliding a few fingers in the front of the carrier to try to pet the Cat.

He stayed at the house that night, taking care of the laundry and making dinner while the Cat explored her new home. Or one of them, anyway—he fully intended to take her back and forth between the house and the boat, as much as she’d let him. He ran by a pet store and picked up a couple of litter boxes, litter, cat food, a new collar (he went with purple), and an almost stupid amount of cat toys. He’d proudly taken them out of the packaging and then dumped them all out in the middle of the living room floor. She’d watched with wide eyes, darting after a ball with a bell in it, and then a catnip mouse, before jumping in an empty Amazon box he’d left by the door. And then she sat in that and played with the flaps for a solid thirty minutes as he shook his head. That night, she curled up on his pillow again, and he fell asleep to her rumbling against his scalp. She was still there when he woke up the next morning.

He took her out on the boat the next day, just on a short cruise a few miles out in the Gulf. He kept her in the cabin until he killed the engine, and then opened the door so she could explore at her own pace. He set a few fishing poles out, more for something to do than any need to bring in any fish, keeping one eye on the Cat as she prowled around the deck. She deftly maneuvered around the equipment and the closed holds, sniffing everything within reach. By the time he had reeled in a few fish, she was splayed out in the sun, purring loudly and giving herself a bath.

He’d tried putting her in a little cat life jacket. She squirmed out of that thing faster than Houdini could have, and would not let him near her with it again. He kept it nearby, but figured Tom had lived a long, water-free life without one, the Cat should be fine too.

Jamie wound up taking almost an entire week off, the longest he’d gone without being out on the boat for work in years. He wanted to be around the day or two after the Cat was spayed, and it wound up being one of his most productive weeks in recent memory. He spent it fixing a few things on the boat and at the house, he made a few more trips to the flea market and local pawn shops, he cleaned and slept, caught up on a few movies he’d missed, and just hung out with the Cat. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed being able to fall asleep on the couch with the TV on until he’d startled awake just before sunrise one morning, in a mild panic that he was going to be late for cast-off. The Cat had been curled up on his chest, and she startled along with him, eyes wide, claws out and digging into his skin.

“Ow ow ow ow,” he said as he gently disengaged her paws. He scratched her head for a few seconds before he realized she was definitely not wearing the cone she’d gotten the day before from her operation. He looked around and saw it lying on the floor.

“That’s for your own good,” he told her. She gave him a soft mew in response.

She didn’t get a name until he’d had her nearly two weeks. It was the evening of her first trip out on the boat post-spaying, the day after she’d gotten the cone off. It had been a long day; Jamie had hired a new deckhand, a local named Eric, and it had been his first day on the water with him and the Cat. Eric was a nice enough guy; he showed up on time and certainly knew his fishing tackle and local regulations, which was all Jamie needed. Eric had just left for the day when Chris and his partner Trent came strolling down the deck towards the Gayle.

“Was wondering where you’ve been,” Chris said as he and Trent stopped on the edge of the dock. They used to come by every once in a while and have a beer with him and his dad. They’d stopped by a few times in the months after Paul died, but Jamie hadn’t been very receptive to company. They’d stopped coming around after that, and Jamie found himself happier to see them than he would’ve expected.

“Took a few days off,” Jamie said, and he grabbed a couple of the collapsible chairs from where they were leaning on the edge of the deck. He saw Chris and Trent share a grin as they set them on the dock, facing the sun as it set over the gulf waters.

They fell into conversation easier than Jamie would have thought possible, almost like no time had passed at all. A few cold beers materialized out of nowhere (or probably from the small cooler Chris was carrying), and one was in his hand and halfway empty before he realized it. The night was balmy and beautiful, and he felt calmer than he had in months.

But before too long, he felt the ache of absence echoing through him. Three of them sat, talking and laughing, where there should be four. He and his dad had shared a lot of sunsets together, but as he sat there while Chris and Trent gossiped, he struggled to remember the last one. Was it the week before he died? It definitely hadn’t been the night before…

He couldn’t have forgotten, how fucking shitty would that be, that he couldn’t even remember the last night he spent with his dad. Just when the grief was about to overwhelm him, he felt a familiar pressure on his ankles and a soft meow.

“Hey, girl,” he said, blinking down at the Cat. She meowed again and leapt gracefully into his lap, pushing her face against his fingers. He couldn’t help but smile at her, the guilt and grief lessening as she purred loudly.

“You got a cat?” Trent asked, reaching over and clumsily petting her head. She pulled back and sniffed his hand before turning back to Jamie, pressing her body against him.

“Yeah—” Jamie started.

“That’s the thief cat,” Chris interrupted, laughing in a way that made Jamie wonder how many beers he’d had before they walked down to his boat. “Looks like she’s not a stray anymore.”

“Made herself at home on the Gayle,” he said, smiling as she started kneading her paws against his belly, still purring loudly. Then he let out a small, “Ow,” as her claws easily pierced the thin material of his t-shirt.

“What’s her name?” Trent asked.

“I dunno yet,” Jamie sighed, trying to redirect her biscuit-making, but she was having none of it, so he gave up and hoped she got her fill soon. “Nothing seems right.”

Trent leaned over again to pet her, and this time she arched her back into his touch, still kneading Jamie’s belly as Trent petted her. But one time he let his hand linger down the length of her tail, and she pulled a paw away to swat at him. Trent raised an eyebrow at her as he sat back in his chair.

“She doesn’t like her tail being touched,” Jamie explained. He’d figured that out the second day, when he’d idly touched her tail and she’d given him a meow that sounded distinctly like a warning.

“Is that little hammock for her?” Chris asked. He was pointing over at the deck of the Gayle, where a miniature hammock was set up in one corner. Jamie had pulled it out earlier in the day when they were idling and he’d let the Cat out to get some sun. He’d paid way too much for it—and other things—at this online pet store he was browsing way too early one morning. Total impulse buy, but she looked so cute laying in the little blue-and-white striped hammock.

Jamie shrugged, petting the Cat as he looked back out over the waters of the gulf. He didn’t mention that he had a second one at his house. That one was purple and matched her collar.

“You know,” Chris continued, and Jamie looked over at him, noting the smirk starting to form on his face. That can’t be good, he thought. “I asked Eric how the first day went. He said it was great, but asked if you had a kid.”

Jamie frowned. “Why would he think that?” He’d never mentioned anything personal at all.

“He said—” Chris started laughing, struggling to get his words out, “he said you had a little miniature steering wheel next to the boat’s actual steering wheel. Like one a kid would play with. You got it for your cat, didn’t you?”

Jamie’s face started to warm as he turned back to the horizon. He should never be allowed on the internet with a credit card. “She likes to play with it, okay?” he said, and Trent and Chris burst into laughter. “You know,” Jamie said, laughing despite himself, “paw at it, turn it, pretend she’s steering the ship?” His body shook with his chuckles, and the Cat meowed up at him as her kneading was interrupted.

“Never thought I’d see the day you’d be whipped by a cat,” Trent said. “You may be the Skipper, but she’s the Admiral.”

The Cat pressed her face against his hand again then, and then caught his gaze before giving another, louder meow. Jamie’s laughter trailed off, and the Cat closed her eyes as he scratched under her chin. “Huh,” he said, “you’re right. She sure is. Admiral,” he said, and it felt right. “Addy for short.”

Addy seemed to purr louder as he said her name, and he relaxed back in his chair as she walked in a small circle on his lap before curling up into a little ball. The three men sat in silence for a few moments, listening to the sounds of the marina: the waves lapping against the boats, the cries of birds flying nearby, and the constant breeze gently blowing past them.

“Glad you got a pet,” Chris said after a few moments. “And that you took some time off. We were starting to worry you’d work yourself into the ground.”

Jamie shrugged, keeping his eyes either on the horizon or on Addy. “Just like to keep busy.”

“You used to keep busy,” Trent said, “just in a very different way.” Out of the corner of his eye, Jamie saw Chris frown at Trent, who shrugged.

Shame washed over Jamie; he knew his tendency to wind up in the closest warm bed was far from a secret. He’d always refused to feel bad about it; he figured he worked hard and played harder. And he still felt that way, for the most part—until he remembered his dad had died because of those tendencies.

He exhaled a breath, looking up at the sky. The stars were starting to come out now that the sun had gone down, and the half-moon shone down on the waves. This was one of his favorite things about living on the coast, how big the sky looked, and how the light of it seemed to come alive on the gulf waters. He’d missed it those years he was at college in Baton Rouge, more than he’d expected to.

“I know,” Jamie responded to Trent. He didn’t owe anyone an explanation, but for the first time in a long time, he wanted to talk about it. Addy snuggled in closer on his lap, and he kept one hand on her, the constant rumble of her purr a comfort beneath his fingertips. “I just don’t—want that life anymore. Not fishing,” he clarified, waving his hand towards the Gayle, “I love being out on the water, it’s just—other things don’t seem as important as they used to, I guess.”

Chris and Trent exchanged a look, and Chris nodded. “I can certainly understand that. It’s hard, taking all this on yourself.”

“Yeah, well,” Jamie started, “Least I could do, after…” After I wasn’t there when he needed me, he didn’t say. And he died because of it.

“You know it wasn’t your fault, Jamie.” Trent’s voice was low, serious in a way Jamie had only heard once before, at Paul’s funeral. When he’d said those exact same words. “No one thinks that.”

They should, he thought. Out loud he said, “Couple of weeks, it’ll be a year.” A year since he’d seen the Gayle adrift in the gulf, his heart sinking to the ocean floor as he realized something had gone very, very wrong.

“Man, where does the time go?” Chris asked. He held up his beer can. “How about a toast to your dad?”

One corner of Jamie’s mouth pulled up, and he picked up his beer, reaching until he could clink it against Chris’s, and then Trent’s. He took a big gulp, and then said, “He’d be pissed we’re doing it with fancy beer, though.” His dad was a Coors man, through and through.

Trent snorted. “Only your dad would consider PBR ‘fancy.’”

~~~

The days flew by; he spent nearly every one working, usually with Eric or another day worker if Eric was off. Technically he could take the boat out by himself for a trip, but pulling a catch solo was much harder, and, as he knew from experience, much more dangerous.

He was getting used to not being alone, because Addy was the most dog-like cat Jamie had ever seen. She followed him around to every room and greeted him at the door when he came home, whether it was his living room or his cabin. He took her back and forth between the boat and his house, and while she hated every second in the carrier, it became easier to get her in it as she realized it would be taking her to her other home.

She adapted beautifully to life on the boat, a little too beautifully in Jamie’s opinion. She quickly learned how to open the latch on one of the little windows in his bunk, the one she’d slipped in that first night, and popped up on the deck in the middle of loading the holds with a school of flounder. Jamie had freaked out, worried she’d get into the equipment and get crushed under the drum, but she’d deftly navigated around anything dangerous, instead heading straight for the open hold. Before he could get to her, she’d nabbed a flounder and was trying to take it back to his bunk.

He changed the latches on the windows after that.

In addition to being a thief, she was also an adept hunter, as evidenced by the dead rat she once left on his bunk. He slept at the house that night, and washed every sheet and sleeping bag he had in his bunk.

Her hunting wasn’t limited to fish and rats, either. One afternoon she was sitting on top of the steering room, eyes wide as she stared at the birds flying overhead. One flew a smidge too low, and she leapt a good five feet into the air, getting a pawful of feathers as she tried to pluck a bird out of mid-air like a damn acrobat. The birds tended to not fly so low after that.

And she could swim. One afternoon, after Jamie and Eric had put the nets out, she was on the deck, peering over the edge into the water a few feet below.

“She gonna jump in?” Eric asked, gesturing towards her.

“She hasn’t yet,” Jamie said, “I don’t think she’s big on going in the water.” The words were barely out of his mouth when she did a fucking flying leap into the gulf. “Holy shit.”

“Guess that answers that,” Eric laughed, moving over to where she’d jumped in. Jamie leaned over the edge, his heart racing as he searched for her. She was right next to the side of the boat, treading water with a tiny trout clutched between her teeth.

Keeping one hand wrapped around the boat railing, Jamie was just able to grab Addy by the scruff of her neck and haul her back onboard. She was soaked to the bone, but she didn’t seem to care much as she shook her body, sending droplets of water all over the deck (and Eric and Jamie).

“You cannot do that!” Jamie told her, sitting on his ass on the deck. He felt like he’d just had a heart attack. “I’m gonna make you wear the damn life jacket if you wanna pull that shit.”

She just stared at him for a moment, and then gently placed the fish on the deck in front of her before trying to shake off more water.

That fish he let her keep. Figured she’d earned it. When he got her a tag for her collar, with her name and his phone number, he also got a little attachment that fit on the collar that would make a loud noise if it was submerged. From that day on, he made sure to keep her in the bunk or galley when he couldn’t keep an eye on her. But he also did get a little rope ladder that she quickly learned to climb when he let her take a supervised swim in calm waters.

Whether Jamie slept at the house or on the boat, Addy would always get up with him before sunrise. They’d have breakfast together, and if they were at the house, she’d ride in her little carrier in his truck to the marina. She’d nap in his bunk while he worked, she’d eat lunch in the galley with him, and would sun herself on the deck when he let her out to roam. After the day's work was done, she’d either go back with him to the house or stay on the boat. He left the window open for her once they were back in the slip, letting her come and go as she pleased. She was always back in the bunk with him when he settled down to sleep, curled up by his head on his pillow. Sometimes he’d watch movies on his laptop, and she’d move from curling up by his side, to next to his head, to batting at whatever the action was on screen.

It was a new routine, one he quickly fell in love with. Even though his days were mostly filled with work, she made work fun in a way it hadn’t been in—well, in almost a year. It was almost enough to make him forget that with every day that passed, it brought him that much closer to the anniversary. A year since he lost the last person he could call family.

Two days before that day, he was on the deck, trying to decide if the net in his hands was worth saving or if he should get a new one. Addy liked to try to play parkour on the nets when they were within reach, and if he got a new one, he could cut this one down into a smaller size and hang it in his bunk for her to play on… though he would probably regret that later if she ever got her paws on his good nets.

A shadow fell over his face, and he looked up to see Sean standing on the dock, smiling down at him. He was wearing khaki shorts and a black work shirt, with “Lighthouse” embroidered over his left pec. Jamie grinned at him and pretended not to notice how his vantage point from the boat gave him a great angle to admire how shapely Sean’s calves were.

Shapely calves? Dude, you are pathetic.

“Hey, man,” Jamie said. “Come on aboard.”

“How’s it going?” Sean asked as he stepped onto the deck

“Not bad.” Jamie set his net aside and gave his full attention to Sean. Jamie had gone to the Lighthouse a few times in the past couple of weeks to eat and shoot the shit, but it had been ages since Sean had come down to the boat. “Had a good catch today, was just prepping for tomorrow.”

“Cool,” Sean said, and then his attention focused lower, and Jamie felt a familiar pressure against his ankles. “Hey, there’s the little Admiral.” Sean dropped into a crouch and held his hand out for Addy to sniff. “Walking around like she owns the place,” he said with a smile.

Addy sniffed his fingers and then immediately pushed forward, purring loudly as Sean petted her back.

“She does, basically,” Jamie said, a bright feeling spreading through his chest as he watched Addy gaze up at Sean adoringly. Sean kept petting her, and Jamie wondered if it was weird to be jealous of your cat.

After a final head pat, Sean pushed back up to standing. “So, I wanted to see if you wanted to come to the house for dinner Friday. Jeremy is out on a job and Heather’s working, so I’m watching the boys. We can watch a movie or something. Maybe play a game after they go to bed, if you want.”

Jamie’s heartbeat picked up speed in his chest. He’d had dinner at Sean’s plenty of times, though the last time had been ages ago. And even though Sean was probably looking for entertainment while he was on kid duty, Jamie got the distinct impression this invitation was different. Special.

But the way Sean was looking at him, his dark brown eyes a little more tender than usual, didn’t make Jamie think he was asking for a date. Sean actually looked a little sad, and Jamie rewound Sean’s words—oh. Friday. The one-year anniversary of when Paul died.

“Friday,” he repeated, a knot growing in his chest as he glanced down at Addy, who was back rubbing against his ankles. She mewed softly up at him as he said, “Yeah, I—I was—”

“I just don’t think you should be alone.” Sean’s voice was soft and kind, and it was almost too much for Jamie to hear.

“I—” He wanted to say no, but he wanted to say yes, too. In the end, he settled on, “I’ll let ya know?”

Sean gave him a brief smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Sure, shoot me a text. I gotta get back to the restaurant.” With a final pet for Abby, and a last glance over his shoulder at Jamie, he walked down the pier, away from the Gayle.

Jamie exhaled a breath and picked up Addy, carrying her into his cabin. He laid on his bunk, petting her as she purred contentedly, staring up at the ceiling and trying to think of nothing.

~~~

He didn’t go to Sean’s. He thought about it, was going to, but in the end he sent Sean a text late Friday afternoon that read, ‘Not gonna make it. Sorry.’ His phone vibrated with a reply almost immediately, but he didn’t look at it. Instead he untied the Gayle and headed out into the Gulf.

It took him about an hour to find the spot. He had the coordinates memorized, but he knew he would have found it regardless. The little patch of water that looked completely normal, exactly like all the other miles and miles of water spread out around him. He clambered on the bow of the ship, laying his back against the windows of the steering room and stretching his legs out in front of him. It wasn’t really a spot meant for sitting, and he might break himself climbing back onto the deck, but it had been one of his favorite spots when he was younger. Soon he was staring at the horizon stretching out in front of him as his body moved as the boat bobbed on the waves.

The sun was setting, streaking the sky with shades of pink and purple as the stars started to come out. There were no other boats around, no fish jumping or birds flying around, and he felt completely and utterly alone.

Then something soft and warm touched his arm, and he looked to see that Addy had followed him. She let out a soft mew and climbed onto his thighs, her purr starting up immediately. Those big green eyes blinked up at him, and when she started kneading her paws against his belly, something cracked inside his chest, spilling out all the grief and guilt he’d been shoving down for the past year.

“This was where I found him,” Jamie said, unaware he was going to start talking until the words started tumbling out. “I was supposed to be out with him that morning. Me and another guy we’d hired for a few months. Jimmy.” He petted Abby along the back of her neck, and she pushed her head into his palm, still kneading her paws and purring. “But Jimmy called out sick. And me… I went out the night before. Met some guy, went back to his hotel.” He sniffled as tears started to fall down his face, the sunset blurring into a mess of bright colors. “And my phone died, so my alarm didn’t go off. I never sleep in, but that day, I did.”

He kept petting Addy, and if he would stop, she would immediately nudge his fingers until he started again. It made it easier to get the words out, even if it would only be his cat that heard them.

“So Dad took the boat out alone. I got to the dock later that morning and hitched a ride on another boat that was pulling out. I couldn’t get Dad on the radio, but I figured he was out on the deck and didn’t hear it. I knew the route he was going, and it wasn’t long before I found the Gayle.”

His heart started beating harder as he remembered seeing the Gayle basically adrift, her nets dragging behind her. His stomach flopped as panic started to well up in his chest, just like it had that day, and he exhaled a shaky breath, scrubbing a hand down his face. Addy let out a small, but firm meow, headbutting his chin, and he chuckled, rubbing his hand down her back.

“I knew instantly something was wrong,” he said. “It felt like it took forever for us to catch up to her, and when we did, I wished we hadn’t.” He inhaled another breath, talking about it was so hard, which was why he never had. But with every word, he felt a little bit of the pressure ebb away, like he was chipping off small pieces of the boulder he’d been carrying on his back for the past year.

“Dad was on the deck, on his back. I remember calling out to him, and I could see that his eyes were open, but when I got to him—there was no life there. They were dull and glassy. The complete opposite of how they usually were.” Paul had blue eyes, the color of the gulf waters, just like Jamie’s. He’d always joked that Jamie had been born with brown eyes, but they’d turned blue because he spent so much time on the water. He’d loved going out on the boat with his dad as a kid.

Addy curled up in his lap, still purring loudly. He kept on petting her, waiting for her to fall asleep, but instead she rested her head on his wrist, green eyes focused up at him. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think she was absorbing every word.

“It was a heart attack. They said there wasn’t anything anyone could have done, but if I’d been there, I could’ve done something. CPR or whatever until the medics got here. If I’d been there, maybe—maybe he wouldn’t have died.” His voice cracked as the tears fell down his cheeks, and he let his head fall back against the window he was leaning against. The sun was almost gone, just a bright sliver over the edge of oblivion. In his lap, Addy nuzzled his wrist, and he continued petting her.

“I kind of went on auto-pilot after that. Went straight back to work, taking over all the duties on the boat, and the business. Which would have really pissed off 18-year-old Jamie.” He shook his head, looking down at Addy. “That kid was so determined to get out of here and be anything other than a fishing boat captain. The last thing he wanted was to be like Dad, to live his life by the tides and the sunrise. And he did it; he got out. Got a degree. But then Mom died, and it was like my entire world shifted.”

He’d had one serious relationship in his life, a girl named Tina that he met at LSU. They dated for two years, had even talked about marriage, and she broke up with him right before graduation. And then his mom died right after. He’d never lost anyone close to him before, and the staggering pain of so much loss so quickly had brought his entire life to a halt. And then when Paul died, it had almost been like he’d lost his mom all over again, too. He and Paul used to spend hours on the boat reminiscing about her, and now that Paul was gone, there was only Jamie, talking to his cat in the dark in the middle of the gulf.

But she didn’t seem to mind; Addy was still purring contentedly, curled up on his lap. He’d worried about her getting seasick at first, but her sea legs were just as good as his, if not better. She seemed to enjoy how their bodies swayed with the movement of the boat on the waves.

“I was only supposed to stay here for a few months after that. Until Dad got back on his feet. He would hire someone else, and I would go and find some cushy job where I spent my time behind a desk instead of on a boat.” He scratched under Addy’s chin, and her eyes closed as she stretched her neck out.

“But the more time that passed, the more I realized I liked this life. Loved it, actually.” He tilted his head back so he could get a full view of the night sky, full of twinkling stars and the bright sliver of the moon. “Couldn’t imagine going into the office and not seeing this view every day. I never told Dad that, though.” Another wave of cold regret washed over him. “Wish I had.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a fish jumping up and out of the water. He saw Addy notice it too, and he kept one hand on her lest she decide she had to go fishing right the fuck now. She stayed relaxed in his lap though, still purring loudly.

“Dad had this old pocket watch. His dad gave it to him, and he always said I would get it ‘when the time was right.’ He’d always laugh after he said that, because, you know, time and a watch. He loved stupid jokes like that,” he said, shaking his head, chuckling as he remembered how hard his Dad laughed when Jamie once told him, ‘David Hasselhoff prefers to be called the Hoff. It saves the hassle!’

“I wanted to bury it with him, but I couldn’t find it. Tore the house, and this damn boat apart looking for it. I still look for it, almost every day, checking pawn shops and flea markets, hoping maybe someone found it and sold it.” He sighed, giving Addy another pat on her hip. “But I guess the time will never be right.”

Addy focused her big green eyes on him then, and let out a soft, tiny meow. He didn’t know what it was, if it was the calm waters around him, the gentle breeze on his face, or the comforting, rumbling ball of cat in his lap, but a sense of calm fell over him. It washed over him, soaked into his bones, and for the first time in a long time, he felt at peace.

He sat in silence for a few more moments before he gently picked up Addy, who mewed at the disruption. “Come on, baby girl,” he said as he gently placed her on the top of the steerage room so he could have both hands free to get back on the deck. “Let’s go home.”

The drive back to the slip was quick and quiet, with Addy laying in her spot above the steering wheel and his mind cycling through old memories of years long past. The grief that always came with thinking about his parents was still there, but less intense, and he was better able to feel the comfort those memories brought with them than he used to. He decided to sleep on the boat, and Addy followed him to his bunk after he docked. He picked up his phone and saw the notification from Sean’s earlier text. ‘No worries, man. Stay safe. Text me tonight, let me know you’re okay. Even if you’re not, text me anyway.’

That same warmth that he was starting to get used to feeling every time he saw Sean spread throughout his chest. He wrote back, ‘I’m not okay,’ he wrote, ‘but I’m getting there. Thanks for checking in. Sorry I missed dinner; rain check?’

The reply came within a few seconds. ‘You know it.’

Sleep came much quicker than he thought it would, with Addy curled up on his head and the waves gently rocking the Gayle.

~~~

It was light out when a clattering noise pulled him from sleep. He blinked against the early morning sunlight; he couldn’t remember the last time he slept past sunrise. Something else was off, and then he noticed that Addy was missing. He heard that clattering again, and he pushed up on one hand, looking through the open cabin door into the galley.

“Addy?” he called out, standing up and taking the few steps into the galley. He saw her on the floor, or rather he saw her tail—Addy had jammed herself in the very small gap between the refrigerator and the counter. How she fit in there, he had no idea, but the clattering continued as her tail whipped around with her movements.

“What are you doing in there? Did you find a mouse?” he asked as he crouched down, touching one finger to the inch of her butt that was sticking out to let her know he was there. “Are your bones made of rubber? How the hell did you get yourself stuck in there?”

She started pulling backwards, wiggling out of the gap, making that same weird noise with her movements. God, if she had a mouse or a rat, and it was still alive, fuck, he did not want to deal with any of that.

Addy kept wriggling backwards, and Jamie wanted to help her, but that might just freak her out, so he watched as she slowly reappeared from the side of the fridge. First her back legs, then her torso, front legs, and—he held his breath as she seemed to get stuck, then unstuck—her head. And then his jaw dropped.

Because clutched between her teeth was the delicate chain of a dirty, scuffed, and very familiar pocket watch.

She let it drop to the floor, and then she shook out her body, probably working out whatever joints she’d fucked up by squeezing back there. Then she flopped down on her side and started bathing herself of all the dust she was covered in.

Jamie looked between her and the watch, because there was no way. No fucking way. But he picked it up, wiping the dust and smudges away, turning it over in his hands, and then his heart stopped as he saw the familiar engraving on the back. It was worn with age, but he could read it clear as day:

‘Many men go fishing all their lives without knowing that it is not fish they are after.’

Jamie’s eyes were burning; it was here the entire time. He was sure he’d gone through every inch of the boat, but he’d looked right past that little gap. The damn thing was even still ticking, and Jamie fell back so he was sitting in the middle of the tiny galley, crying over a watch as his cat paused in her bath to press against his knee.

“You sure are something else,” he told her, and she gave him one of those slow blinks as she started to purr. “How did you know this was back there? How did you—?” He stopped and shook his head, running a hand through his hair.

Addy rubbed up against his leg again, and then stepped back over to the fridge, rubbing against the door while she gave him a tiny mew. Breakfast time.

“Admiral,” he said, laughing bubbling out of him, “you can have all the fish. As many as you want.”

~~~

After Addy’s belly was full, Jamie set out for the Lighthouse. He wasn’t a religious man, but he still knew a sign when one fell into his lap; he was ready to start living his life. Right now.

Chris had other plans, apparently. He stopped Jamie on the marina, leaving Trent and Leo to work the stall while he pulled Jamie behind it.

“How you doing?” Chris asked, his brow creased with worry. “Went to check on you last night, but the boat was gone.”

Normally Chris’s concern would irritate Jamie, but today it brought a small smile to his face. Maybe the Gayle and Addy weren’t the only family he had. “I’m fine,” he reassured Chris. “Yesterday sucked, but I’m good. I was just heading to—”

“Great,” Chris said, “Trent and I wanted to talk to you about something. Been waiting for the right moment, but ya know how that goes.”

Jamie’s mouth snapped shut; what could Chris want to talk about? Was it about the boat, or something about his dad? Oh God, he thought, is it a sex thing? Chris and Trent were good-looking, for older guys, but they were his dad’s friends—well, his friends now too—and that would be weird—plus he didn’t do that anymore—but it had been a while, maybe it would be a good way to ease him back in the saddle, so to speak—

“Trent and I,” Chris continued, and Jamie braced himself, “want to expand the business. And we could use a partner.” Chris gave Jamie a significant look.

Oh, thank God, Jamie thought. Then—wait, a partner? Chris and Trent were buyers, the middleman between many of the smaller fishermen at the marina and the restaurants and distributors that bought the fish. Expanding could mean anything from traveling to more marinas to employing fishermen to becoming a larger mass distributor.

“A partner?” Jamie repeated, still wrapping his head around it all.

“Someone who knows his way around a boat. And the Gulf.”

Jamie smirked at that. “And has a fancy degree?”

Chris shrugged. “It’ll look good to investors, I won’t lie. But with or without any degrees, we’d be lucky to have you. You work hard, even when you don't want to. You’re one of the steadiest fishermen in the area, and you know the locals and the laws better than most anyone.” Chris paused, his expression turning softer. “Paul was so proud of you, you know. He wanted more for your life than spending it on a boat.”

Jamie frowned. “It was good enough for him.”

“It’s good enough for anyone,” Chris immediately replied. “No shame in it. But you had plans that you set aside for your dad. I know he was grateful for your help, and he loved having you here. But you don’t have to be stuck in the boat your entire life, not if you don’t want to be.” Then he looked at Jamie and waited.

Jamie glanced around the marina. He didn’t feel stuck, but Chris was right—he used to have plans. And while any plans he’d make today would look very different from the ones he used to have, he’d still like to make some, and see where they might take him.

“Okay,” he said. “Let’s talk.”

Chris smiled at him, and Jamie smiled back.

~~~

The first plan he made was to meet with Chris and Trent the next evening. The second one took him back on his way to the Lighthouse. It was Saturday; they wouldn’t be open yet but would be soon for lunch, and he circled around to the back. Sean was there, cleaning the loading deck.

“Hey, man,” Sean said with a smile, setting aside the hose.

“Sorry I bailed,” Jamie said, his pulse accelerating. God, he was nervous, which was ridiculous, because it was Sean.

Oh god, it’s Sean.

Sean, who had no idea about Jamie’s internal breakdown, nodded. “It’s cool. I know you have a lot going on.”

“I don’t,” Jamie responded, because he was at the point where his mouth was gonna say whatever it wanted. Sean gave him a questioning look, and Jamie continued, “Not really. I just—I’ve been a little stuck. Since dad died. But I want to get unstuck.” Great, now he was making zero sense.

But Sean seemed to get it, even if Jamie didn’t, and he stepped closer, a small smile forming on his face. “Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” Watching as Sean’s smile grew a little wider, Jamie felt that familiar confidence return, and he let it flow through his veins. “I was wondering if you wanted to get dinner.”

“Like the one you didn’t get last night?”

“Yes—well, no,” Jamie said, wanting to be very clear. “Like, dinner dinner. With you and me.” He glanced away, then back to Sean, whose eyes had gotten slightly wider. “Like an us.” Sean didn’t say anything, he just stared at Jamie, and a cold ball of nerves coiled in Jamie’s belly. He suddenly realized that he had no idea if Sean was even single, they hadn’t talked about it recently. “Or not. I know—”

“I’d love to.” Sean was beaming at Jamie, and Jamie couldn’t help but smile back.

“Great,” Jamie said. “When do you get off?”

Sean’s smile turned into a smirk, and he chuckled as he said, “Let me text you. I’m supposed to do a double today, but I’m pretty sure I can get Heather to cover for me.”

Jamie’s smile faded. “Oh, I don’t want to—”

“No, man, we’re going out. Tonight, I don’t care if I have to shut down this damn restaurant.”

Jamie laughed then; he was pretty sure his heart was floating somewhere up into the sky above them. “Okay, then. I’ll, uh, talk to you soon.”

“Damn, right,” Sean said. Jamie was pretty sure they would have stood there, staring at each other for hours if Joaquin hadn’t stuck his head out the door and reminded Sean he had a restaurant to run.

~~~

Later that afternoon, he was on the pier by the Gayle, playing with Addy. He and Sean had a plan to meet at his house that evening and then drive a little further north to find dinner somewhere. From the flirty texts they’d been exchanging all day though, Jamie wasn’t sure they’d actually make it out of his driveway.

He had one of those toys that had a string with a fuzzy ball on the end of a stick, and he kept batting it around. There wasn’t a ton of room to do this on the deck, not with all the equipment, and Addy loved to flip and jump to grab the toy. He had to be careful she didn’t flip herself off the deck into the water, though.

A woman and two children walked by, and one kid extended her hand so Addy could sniff her fingers.

“Cute cat,” the woman said, smiling at Jamie. “She a rescue?”

Jamie looked at Addy, and she pushed up into the kid's fingers before turning back to bat at the ball.

“No,” he said with a smile, “I was.”