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“Yup. You know some terms already. Good for you.” Close enough to see specks of gold in his brown eyes, Rock growled, “that means nothin’ on the ship.

We go out for six weeks at a time; sometimes more, sometimes less depending on when we can fill our quota.

Most men only go out once because they can’t stand to be away from their woman that long.

Won’t have to worry about that with you, will I? You hard working? Can I trust you?”

“No, yes, and yes.”

With one hand, Rock pulled a cigar from the breast pocket of his shirt. He lifted the other one to block the sun as he raised his gaze to the top of the boat. A deckhand leaned on the railing and gave a thumbs-up, then flinched when Gus raised his eyebrows.

“We leave in one week. Need to give the boys a break. See you here Wednesday.”

“But it’s Friday. That’s not a week.”

“We stock the ship for two days before we push off, greenhorn.”

I PUSHED MY glasses up my nose and took in my surroundings as I waited for the rest of the crew to arrive.

On my way to the pier, I stopped by the secondhand store and picked up a couple of dirty sweatshirts and some rubber boots.

I checked out of the motel and waved to the circle of men who shared a bottle.

No one knew my history, so I could be anyone I wanted to be if I remembered my lie this time.

The crew wasn’t aware of what had happened in my past life, and I didn’t need to tell them.

They had no idea I had spent four years in juvy, or that I had basically been homeless my entire adult life. They were leery anyway.

“I’m Freddie,” the first to arrive had his hands full, so he nodded instead of offering one. “What’s your name?”

“Jake, but my friends call me Moose.”

“Nice to meet you, Jake.” He shoved a box into my chest and nodded to the ladder. “Rock told me you’re starting today. Got a good crew, now, so don’t fuck this up.” Freddie lowered his chin and studied me over the rim of his sunglasses. “Follow me.”

Three more hands showed up to help and we spent the better part of the day lugging boxes and supplies up and down stairs .

Edward, Chuck, and Mac had all been dropped off by the same person. Chatter surrounded the men as they picked up supplies and helped load the boat. One after the other introduced himself as they passed, as if a new guy showed up on a regular basis.

“Where the fuck is Reggie? Is he a no-show again?”

My legs weren’t as strong as I expected and I tired way faster than the rest of the guys. I sat on one of the boxes to rest and reached for a bottle of water.

“You already worn-out greenhorn? Fucking figures. We’ll have to make up for Reggie as we’re training a useless body. You just wait ‘til we’re in the thick of it.”

I expected to get razzed and prepared for the insults before asking for the job. I blew off the comment. Being the new kid on the block, I had to earn respect and I intended to do just that.

Even though I’m from Alaska, I’m still a cheechako on this vessel. Man, I hate that word, but it’s true. The crew didn’t let me forget it, either. After the first week of name calling and stupid pranks, I kept my cool and pushed myself to focus on learning the craft.

Captain Rock complimented my ability to pick up quick and work fast, which angered one of the newer deckhands. Trapped on a boat with six other guys hadn’t been ideal in the first place. Tension and jealousy drove Edward to throw insults every chance he got.

I just wanted to do a good job and have someone act like they were proud of me. The other guys accepted me and laughed at my stupid jokes, but Edward had it in for me from the get-go. He glared at me each time I glanced his way and refused to answer any questions I had.

His usual response was: “Why don’t you go ask Rock; you’ve already got your nose so far up his ass you can probably tell what he had for dinner.”

“Stupid fuck.” Frustrated, I turned away. It took him two weeks to break me.

One hard shove sent me sailing over the short deck wall into the freezing Arctic water.

“Man overboard!”

DURING DINNER below deck, the crew scarfed down the slop before them and reminisced about the incident. “Did you see him flailing his arms? What idiot goes out on a fishing boat without knowing how to swim?”

“Man, I wouldn’t want to be in his shoes; he could have died. Do you know how many sharks I saw out here last month? Dude. He got lucky.”

“No, Edward got lucky. No one wants a murder on their head.”

“Who would have known? Fucker’s homeless, from what I hear. Probably don’t have no one to miss him.”

I sat wrapped in a blanket; my teeth chattered no matter how hard I tried to make them stop. Their words registered but my thoughts overpowered them. I had almost died. Why didn’t God let me go? What more could I do in this stupid life that would be worthwhile? Wouldn’t everyone be better off?

I hadn’t ever been suicidal, never thought about taking my own life, but when even God wouldn’t take it when he had the chance, I wondered why.

“If fuckin’ Moose hadn’t started shit, we wouldn’t have lost four hours. Now we’re not going to get to the prime spot with enough time to fill the hull. We’re all out at least two grand,” Edward said.”

Pain in my hand registered before the sight of Edward laying on the ground. Blood seeped from his lip as he struggled to push himself to his feet. I learned to be the first one to act while at McLaughlin. If you didn’t win, you’d lose big.

The minute Edward grumbled that I was to blame for not being able to make as much money as we wanted, anger radiated through me and warmed me enough to stand and swing.

Freddie pulled me into a choke hold. “The minute we dock, you’re fired.” Second nature took over and cost me a job.

The second I threw that punch; I heard God in my ear telling me I was wrong .

“If someone does you wrong, don’t try to pay them back by hurting them. Try to do what everyone thinks is right. Do the best you can to live in peace with everyone.”—Romans 12:17-18

Without being able to take it back, I knew I had to suffer the consequences. Such is life. I put myself in these situations, and I had to take responsibility for what I had done. Again.

“I NEED MY STUFF.” As the words came out of my mouth, my duffle landed beside my feet. Holding my bruised hand with my good one, I trudged to the city center and found a bench to rest.

Well, that was quite the experience. I pulled up some crab pods, got thrown overboard, and let my anger get the best of me.

I sighed. Stupid fuck made me so mad. Wait.

That’s not right. I shook my head and closed my eyes.

God, why can’t I get it through my thick skull that no one is to blame for my actions but me?

The bible sat on top of my clothes zipped within my bag. I opened it to one of the bookmarks.

“If you are wise, you are wise for yourself; if you scoff, you alone will bear it.”—Proverbs 9:12

Amazed to find the exact verse I needed to hear—read—I closed the book and tucked it back into safety.

If I make it back to Talkeetna, if Pete allows me to stay, I promise I’ll make up for my sins.

I’ll work hard, love my friends, stay sober, and volunteer.

I need to do something good, not for me, but for someone else.

I need to do some good deeds to repent. What’s next?

I need a vehicle. Thanks to my time on the ship, I had enough cash to last through the next few weeks and buy an old truck, if I could find one cheap enough.

Police sirens accompanied red and blue flashing lights. The car parked beside me, and an officer got out. Calm and cool, he sauntered over to the bench where I sat. “Heard you had a problem with one of Miller’s crews.” Sunglasses slid down his nose and he glared at me. “Moose.”

Without any way to hide the incident, I admitted, “Dude called me a cheechako and tried to drown me. Pushed me overboard. Do you know how cold that ocean is?”

The cop smirked and put his hands on his hips. “I suggest you get lost before you end up in prison. I don’t want to see you in this town again.”

RUST ATE THROUGH the bottom of the doors of my new truck, making it look much older than it really was. It ran, but barely. I used some of my cash to secure the Chevy from a makeshift dealership before I headed north.

Fingers crossed that Pete still worked with his brother in Talkeetna.

I hadn’t thought about that. What if he’s not even there anymore?

Spending time in the wild surrounding the cabins had been the only place besides home I had ever been happy.

I needed to fill that space in my heart.

Again. It seemed like the perfect time to start fresh. Again.

As I drove, I fantasized about owning a house on a nice piece of land like my dad had. At the moment, though, all I had to my name was a few changes of clothes, a flannel, parka, and work boots. And this damn truck . It seemed strange how the shortest moments in time could feel like an eternity.

Warm air poured from the vents even though I had the control turned to the lowest heat setting. Dirty floorboards masked the wrappers from a candy bar and a bag of potato chips.

The newest Hardy song blared from the radio, and I smiled. One of the previous owners had broken the knob off the tuner, so I was stuck with country music. I wasn’t mad about it.

I kept right at the fork. Red lights flashed as the railroad crossing sign warned of an oncoming train. I checked the clock and sighed. An empty energy drink can sat in the cup holder and I grumbled.

The safety arms lowered, and I wondered what it would feel like to get hit by a train. Would it hurt or kill me before I could feel any pain?

What is my purpose in life? Why am I here?

I’ve never done anything to help anyone.

I didn’t help my mom; in fact, I let her die.

I didn’t help anyone in McLaughlin; I inflicted pain on other boys in the hopes of relieving my own.

I didn’t help Felix or Dennis. Hell, I didn’t even help Kennedy.

I didn’t have a chance, she left before I could try.

There’s no meaning in my life. God, why did you save me from drowning?

A horn caught my attention, and I lifted my gaze only to realize my foot had come off the brake enough for my truck to inch forward.

I was looking directly into the bright light of the train; I shifted into reverse and got out of the way just in time.

I guess I didn’t really want to know how much pain I would be in if the train didn’t kill me.

Shaken, I tried to catch my breath. Through the partial darkness, a full moon illuminated picturesque mountains and still ponds of water. Sadness took over. Disbelief.

How did my life end up like this? I’m twenty-three years old and have nothing. Maybe I’d never live up to my mom’s idea of a good man. Before I left Dallas, Andrew had assured me that God has a reason for everything. “Dude, I sure could use a hint here.”