Free Losing Faith by Scotty Cade

dinner. “You’ll get no arguments from me on that front. I hate doing dishes.” He held up the glass. “And this is really good, by the way.”
    Abel had explained the reaction he’d received from the clerk at the wine store over dinner. “For someone who supposedly doesn’t drink, she sure knew her red wine.”
    Dinner conversation had mostly consisted of a lot of small talk. Some discussion about the Southern Baptist Church and their beliefs compared to the Episcopal Church. Huge differences, to say the least, but they both seemed to be avoiding anything too heavy. But something seemed different to Abel. The ease they’d shared at the Riverwalk was no longer there, and honestly, Abel missed the connection.
    Cullen was on his third glass of wine—not that Abel was counting—but Abel could tell Cullen’s mood seemed to be improving. It was either Abel or the alcohol or maybe a combination of both, but Cullen did seem more at ease.
    While Abel did the dishes, he could see Cullen eyeing him, almost like he had something to get off of his chest but was unsure if he could do it. Maybe it was about the guy in the picture or quite possibly about his day, which he’d already said had sucked.
    Abel dried and stacked the last plate, dried his hands, and folded the towel and laid it on the edge of the sink. “Do you mind if I get a bottle of water out of the fridge?”
    “Help yourself.” Cullen stood, crossed the saloon, and slipped behind Abel into the small galley.
    Abel bent over, dug through the refrigerator, and froze when he felt Cullen brush against his backside and Cullen’s hand rest briefly on his hip. The feeling was both exhilarating and frightening at the same time. Abel closed his eyes and focused on trying not to jump or pull away.
    “Sorry,” Cullen said. “It’s a tight space. I mark a great boater by whether or not a person can do what we call the galley dance.”
    “Galley dance?” Abel repeated, now a bit intrigued.
    Cullen retrieved a rocks glass and poured himself a couple of fingers of bourbon. “Yeah. The galley dance is when two people can get into a rhythm and easily move and work together in the small space in unison. Cole and I had it down to a science.”
    Cole! Is that the name of the man in the photos? The elephant in the room?
    It suddenly dawned on Abel that the Riverwalk had been neutral ground for them. It had been easy to connect there. They could give a little at a time and keep what they weren’t ready to share without being too exposed. But here—this boat—was Cullen’s home. His memories. His life. No wonder he was distant. There was no hiding here for him. Cullen was very exposed and vulnerable.
    Abel thought about what it would feel like to have Cullen at his home. To actually see his sad existence. His lack of family photos. Hell, his lack of photos of any kind. The nonexistence of anything that was actually his. Everything in the house but his clothes and his computer equipment was owned by the church, and he lived under their rules.
    With that realization Abel decided to let the comment go, and if Cullen wanted to bring the man up again, he would.
    “Abel?”
    Abel was startled out of his thoughts by the sound of Cullen’s voice.
    “Are you okay?”
    “Oh, yeah. Sorry. No. I’m good.”
    He could see Cullen eyeing him warily.
    “No really. I’m good.”
    “Okay. Let’s go topside and enjoy the rest of the evening.”
    “Lead the way, Captain,” Abel teased.
    Abel followed Cullen up the steps to what he learned was called the cockpit and then up to the flybridge or helm. Cullen took a seat, and Abel looked around. “Do you mind?” Abel gestured to the canvas.
    “Not at all.”
    Abel unsnapped the canvas and lifted it off the helm equipment. It was all very intimidating. “This looks like the cockpit of a 747.”
    Cullen chuckled. The sound was warm and seemed to come from a place deep down. This was the Cullen he knew. “It looks way more