19. Ziggy

Chapter nineteen

Ziggy

T he pungent reek of smoke, charred wood, and melted plastic assaulted us as Dad and I wound our way through the ruins of the Knickerbocker Lobster Co. office. The blaze reduced the desktop computer to blackened wreckage, and the contents of file cabinets crumbled when we touched them.

It was a waking nightmare. Dad stood near what was once the door, continually shaking his head.

"I… unbelievable." Dad crouched next to a pile of debris and touched it with trembling fingers. Underneath the unreadable covers of regulation manuals, he uncovered a buoy, its paint blistered from the heat. "Five generations, Ziggy. Five damn generations of Knickerbockers, building this up from nothin'. All that blood and sweat... gone. Poof. Just like that." He sighed heavily. "And it happened on my watch."

I swallowed hard over a lump in my throat. "We've faced rough situations, Dad. We'll rebuild it. That's what we do." I did my best to sound upbeat, but it all rang hollow.

When he looked at me, I saw lines on his face that I would have sworn weren't there the day before. He had a haunted expression with dark bags under his eyes. "I'm not sure I have it in me this time."

The words hit me hard. It was like somebody slammed me in the gut. Stubborn and unyielding, Dad was always our rock. I couldn't stand to see him so crushed beneath the weight of the disaster.

I watched as Dad tried to add things up in his head while he moved around the ruins of the office. Our company boat was a blackened shell. Somehow, it didn't sink, but it was a total loss. The intensity of the fire reduced thousands of dollars of equipment to scrap—winches, traps, and GPS systems.

I asked about insurance, confident it would cover a significant portion of the damage. Dad frowned in response, followed by a short, bitter chuckle. "They'll cover some, but it won't come close to replacing everything. This will take years if we can tackle it at all."

The words took a few minutes to sink in. As they did, my thoughts raced around in my head. I did some quick calculations and speculated on what the disaster meant for my future. My college tuition and dreams about the NHL now seemed a bit selfish, knowing what my family was facing.

While Dad held up a charred, framed photo of one of the family's past lobster boats, I blurted out a suggestion. "I could stay, take the year off, and help rebuild here."

Dad didn't mince words. "No." He set his jaw as he always did when his decision was non-negotiable. "You won't sacrifice your future because of this. Your mother and I won't let you."

On the way home, we argued about my future plans. Our voices rose occasionally as the discussion became heated. By the time we reached our house, we were both tired from arguing, but we hadn't reached an agreement.

Mom was waiting. She had her silver-streaked hair pulled back into a bun and, to my surprise, wore one of Dad's old Knickerbocker Lobster Co. sweatshirts. Her voice was soft. "Well? Is it as bad as we thought?"

The words wouldn't come for Dad. He wrapped Mom up in a warm, silent hug.

I announced, "I want to stay and help. I can defer college for a year and probably work something out with Coach, seeing what's happened."

Mom was just as firm as Dad had been. "Absolutely not." It was the same voice I'd heard many times as a kid when I argued with Emma. "Ziggy, your future is too important. We'll work it out."

"But—"

"No buts," Dad insisted. "You're going back to school, end of discussion."

I opened my mouth to respond, but when I saw the look in their eyes, I knew it was fruitless. Despite their exhaustion, they were as determined as ever. They'd fight tooth and nail to keep me on my path. The straightforward demonstration of their selfless love moved me to tears.

Retreating to my room, I threw myself backward onto the bed. Memories of happier times stood out in every corner. I saw hockey medals and trophies, along with framed poems graded A+. Seeing it all made it hard for me to breathe. I needed to get out of the house and give myself some open space to think.

Pulling out my phone, I typed a message to Kade.

"You busy?"

"No. Is everything okay?"

"Not really. Can I come over?"

"Of course. The door's always open for you."

I stared at his words and re-read, "door's always open." I knew it was more than a statement about the apartment. It was about Kade himself. He was always there for me.

I sneaked out of the house the back way, careful not to disturb my parents. How could I explain to Kade the emotions swirling inside me? Would he understand my guilt about pursuing my dreams while my family struggled to put their lives back together?

The streets of Whistleport were radically different. Neighbors walked by with shell-shocked expressions on their faces. According to the radio report I heard at home, we'd been fortunate not to have any deaths in the harbor explosions. Fortunate? It was a relative observation. Almost everyone in town would face some misfortune due to the disaster.

I reached Kade's door on autopilot. My feet knew the way. When I raised my hand to knock, it trembled. Kade answered after my second try. His brow furrowed. "Zig, what's wrong?"

Seeing him—my love and my port in the storm—made my pulse race. I tried to say something, but the words wouldn't come, so I reached out and wrapped my arms around him, pressing my face into his shoulder.

He placed one hand on the back of my head. "It's okay. I've got you. I'm so sorry about what happened."

We stood like that for a few minutes just inside Kade's apartment. I inhaled the scents I'd grown to love—sandalwood shampoo and his laundry detergent. They helped ground me and soothe some of the tension in my body.

Finally, we pulled back a half step. His voice was soft and rumbled slightly. "Let's sit down, and you can tell me everything."

He led the way to the couch with a hand splayed against the small of my back. As we sat, I scanned the room. There was a laptop open on the coffee table with books and papers around. "Did I interrupt something? Are you studying early for the school year?"

Kade smiled. "It's nothing important. You'll always take priority."

The commitment in his voice shook something loose in me. It was like a dam broke, and a rush of words flowed out of me. I talked about what Dad and I found in the remains of the office. Then, I shared the details of my argument with my parents and the weight of the decision I still had to make. I rose from the couch and paced back and forth, waving my hands as I shared my stories.

Finally, I collapsed back on the couch. "I'm so lost here. It's like... no matter what I do, I'm letting someone down. Damned if I do, damned if I don't, you know?"

Kade listened quietly the entire time I ranted and raved. When I sat again, he took my hand and rubbed my palm. His voice was firm when he shared his observation. "You won't let anybody down. It's not your fault that you're faced with this. And you're right, there probably is no perfect solution, Zig."

I curled up against his side, my long legs hanging off the cushions. "I don't think I've ever felt this helpless."

He wrapped an arm around me and pulled me closer. "I know, but you're not alone. You've got me to help you through."

We sat together like that for several minutes. All I could hear was distant traffic and the sound of our breathing. Kade's presence comforted me. When I sagged against him, he tugged on my elbow. "Come on. Follow me."

He led me to the bedroom. I didn't feel sexy, but the room was a comfortable space. He'd placed hazy seascapes on the walls to enhance the comforting atmosphere.

We undressed silently. As we slid under the covers, I moved up next to Kade, my body fitting against him like a missing puzzle piece. He didn't try to push anything sexual. Instead, he held me close and softly kissed me beneath my ear.

Tracing my collarbone with his index finger, he paused at a small scar. "How'd you get this?" He didn't ask in a demanding tone. Every word was soft and conversational.

I chuckled. "It was a hockey puck to the chest my first year in high school. Hurt like hell and scared Mom, but I finished the game."

"Why does that not surprise me? Sometimes, you can be a stubborn ass." He laughed softly. "I'm betting you scored the winning goal, too."

"Nah, it was just an assist for me, but it was a thing of beauty." I paused briefly. "Hey, Kade, tell me a story about you. Something you haven't shared yet."

"Okay." His voice was warm and gentle. "Did I ever tell you about the time I tried to learn how to surf?"

"No." I'd been curious about surfing at times. Some hardy athletes did it in Maine, mostly from Portland on south. I'd been too busy to give it a serious go. "Tell me what happened. Did you do it there in New Hampshire?"

He shook his head. "No, but maybe I should have practiced at home before the trip. My family was on vacation to Hawaii, and picture me as this gangly fourteen-year-old, fearless and convinced I could succeed at any sport. I was good at hockey, so why not surfing?"

"Sounds like a disaster in the making."

"Sort of." He pushed himself up with his hands until he sat upright. Then, he gestured to help tell the story. "So, I signed up for this lesson at our hotel. My instructor was chill, and the hotel concierge said he was among the best. His name was Kai, and he looked like he was born with a surfboard in his crib."

"But you weren't."

Kade laughed. "Hey, there wasn't any room for it. The hockey stick got in the way."

I smirked.

"Anyway, Kai drove us out to the beach in his jeep. He explained the basics, and I nodded along. I figured I had it in the bag."

"And you didn't."

"I wasn't even close. On my first try, I stood on the board for about a second before I face-planted in the saltwater. I figured, you know, two or three tries. On the second, I lost my balance, and the board shot out from under me. Big splash."

I grinned. "At least you survived, or you wouldn't be telling me the story."

"Yeah, but I nearly killed my instructor. When I lost control of my board, he didn't see it coming, and it whacked him upside the head."

A laugh bubbled up from inside me. "I'm sorry. I can't help it. I do hope he was okay."

"Yeah, he survived his encounter with me, but the day turned into one disaster after another. I even got stung by a jellyfish for my trouble."

I reached out for Kade and pulled him down on top of me. The warmth of his body was soothing, and we both laughed. "Thanks for the story. That helps."

"Anytime. I've got plenty more embarrassing tales to tell."

We continued on, gently exploring each other's bodies and trading stories. I learned that a small scar on the side of Kade's knee was from a childhood tumble out of a treehouse. I admitted that the calluses on my hands weren't only from hockey. I'd spent summers hauling in lobster traps for extra cash during high school.

Kade wove his fingers together with mine. "Those hands tell a story."

I snorted. "Yeah, one about manual labor and holding onto hockey sticks."

Kade sighed. "No, that's not what I mean." He reached out for my chin and tilted my head up so he could gaze into my eyes. "Don't talk yourself down. Your hands have created beautiful things, too. I've seen some of your poetry."

The time spent together eased much of my tension, but some still lurked in the background. I brought my primary dilemma up again with a calm voice. "I don't know what to do. It's like being ripped in half. If I go back to school, I'll feel like I'm abandoning my family when they most need me. If I don't, it feels like I'm throwing away what I've worked for."

Kade was quiet for several seconds. "What does your gut tell you?"

I closed my eyes and did my best to listen to a faint voice deep down inside. It took me a few minutes to sort it out. "It tells me that I need to go back. As hard as it will be to leave this fall, the best way I can help my family is to succeed at college and make something of myself."

Kade saw the answer as a simple one. "Then, I think that's what you should do, and I'll have your back all along the way."

I searched his face. "Yeah? You're not just saying that?"

"I'm all in, Zig. We'll put our heads together and figure out ways you can help your family from school."

"Thank you." I turned my head and kissed his bare chest, right over his heart. "I'm so glad we found each other."