After I finish my food and still have come up with no new tactics, I finally give up and get into bed. A stack of books sits on my bedside table, and I grab one off the top. The island brought me some I haven’t read before, and I hope they will provide a solid distraction from the continued laughter below.
I’m definitely not using them to stay awake until Weston returns.
Absolutely not.
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
Just as I turn the page to start a new chapter, a loud thud outside the room breaks my concentration. Jorn’s boisterous laughter cuts through the quiet ship, followed by another thud, and I roll my eyes. The noise from the mess continued on late into the night, then gradually died down as I sat awake, reading. This might be the end of it, which can mean only one thing.
Weston is on his way back, and by the sounds out in the hallway, he either lost the game miserably, or he took heavily to the bottle.
Probably to make himself forget his mistake.
I stare hard at my page, but can’t focus on the words. He’s going to walk through the door any second, and I’m suddenly regretting being awake when he does. Although, the sheer amount of noise would have prevented me from sleeping even if I hadn’t been reading.
I set my jaw and stare down at the page, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in my stomach, knowing I have to face him after everything that happened today.
The door slams into the wall as Weston stumbles to the ground, cursing under his breath. My spine straightens as Icrane my neck, trying to see if he’s alright, only to find him on the floor, on his hands and knees.
Laughing.
He shushes himself, then grabs hold of the doorjamb, trying to get to his feet again.
He must be beyond drunk.
My mood softens slightly, unable to be too mad or hurt when he’s laughing at himself. Closing the book, I set it on the bed and watch as he rights his body, leaning his shoulder against the frame, until he looks up, his eyes falling on me.
“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath. “I woke you.”
“Being asleep would be a requirement for you to wake me. Everyone was doing a pretty good job of making sure that didn’t happen.”
“I’m sorry, princess,” he slurs, glancing away.
He straightens and tries to step forward before swaying on his feet. He looks like he’s about to fall flat on his face before he reaches out and grabs hold of the doorway again.
I stifle a laugh. Avoiding him is impossible, so I might as well get it over with.
I slide out of bed, feeling more exposed in Weston’s shirt tonight than I ever have before. My bare feet pad across the wooden floor, and I watch as his gaze trails up my legs, stopping where the hem falls on my bare thighs. I doubt he even realizes he’s staring, and I can’t keep the heat from my face as his eyes darken the closer I get.
I’ve never dealt with anyone this drunk before, let alone someone of his size. Brynne has told me stories of having to manage off duty guards in the same state, but hearing a story isn’t the same as trying to catch this large man if he falls.
“Come on, let’s get you in bed,” I say.
He shakes his head violently, squeezing his eyes shut and wobbling slightly.
“No. You’re hurt. I would hurt you. I don’t want to hurt you.” He winces, then dares to look at me again.
“I’m not hurt anymore,” I say, lifting my arm and moving it around. “See?” He watches me move without an ounce of pain, until his eyes fall to my thighs again, and I realize the flapping and waving only caused the shirt to hike higher up, exposing more skin.
“You were hurt. Bad,” he mumbles, his voice so low I almost didn’t hear him.
“I was, but I’m not anymore. Sig took care of me.”
“It should have been me,” he says, his words still slurring together.
“You weren’t the one who jumped out of the lookout. It never would have been you,” I say.
He heaves a sigh and shakes his head again. I wonder if he always feels he has to take the burden off everyone else. What made him feel so responsible?
