He stays silent and runs his hand through his hair, his gaze fixated on the ground beyond me.
“What aren’t you telling me, Weston?”
“Just drop it, princess.”
“How am I supposed to trust you when I feel like you’re hiding something more from me?”
Closing the distance, his hands find my face, palms cradling my jaw as his fingers dig into my hair. My mind flashes to the last time he held me like this, and my lips part, expecting his face to drop to mine, taking my breath away.
But he doesn’t move. He holds me in place, an internal war raging behind those teal eyes.
“You’re not going back,” he murmurs, more calmly but just as directly. His thumb strokes my cheek as his eyes dart between mine, pleading. The anger is gone, and my knees weaken when I realize it’s been replaced with something that looks a lot like fear.
Why is Weston afraid of me going back?
“I just need you to trust me…Please,” he begs, bringing me back to the last time we stood in a cave, and he was pleading with me.
I trusted him then, and look at everything that happened, everything that changed. Why would this be any different? Whatever he isn’t telling me, maybe he has good enough reason.
“Alright,” I breathe, and relief flashes in his eyes. His thumb continues to slide over my skin, and I silently beg him to lean in, craving the feel of his lips on mine, even if it is only the merest of brushes. I’d take anything after tonight. With one final stroke, his hands fall away from my face, and he steps back, snapping the taut cord and bringing me back to the reality that he won’t kiss me again.
I clear my throat and avert my eyes. He may have told me no, but this conversation isn’t over. He can’t decide to take this hope away from me, away from everyone else in the crew, and keep everything a secret.
“If you’re going to make this choice for everyone,” I say, glancing back up at him, “they deserve to know.”
His head hangs slightly as my words sink in.
“I know,” he mumbles.
“It can only come from you. They trust you.”
He lets out a deep sigh and meets my gaze. “I know. I will tell them.”
“Soon.”
He nods and looks away. “I will tell them soon.”
The sky is just beginning to lighten when Weston and I step back onto the deck. Neither of us speak a word to each other after he agrees to tell the crew. Instead, we search the rest of the night in silence, giving my mind plenty of time to race through all the thoughts and possibilities for the future, and what it means to give up now.
Weston heads toward the armory to unload his weapons and holds a hand out to me at the bottom of the steps. Pulling my bow and quiver off my shoulder, I hand them to him and he takes them wordlessly, disappearing down the hallway.
Footsteps approach from behind, and I glance over my shoulder to find Sig cautiously descending the steps. She catches my eye and I tilt my head toward the showers, the first place I normally go after a night of searching.
Weston shouldn’t suspect anything.
She follows behind, and we slip into the room, Sig closing the door firmly behind us. It’s empty, still too early for most of the crew to be up and moving yet, except for whoever is at the lookout today.
I step inside the stall and the water starts; the sound providing a decent cover for our whispers.
“What did he say?” Sig says, her expression hopeful. I level a look at her and watch as her face falls when she realizes she already knows my answer.
“He said no.”
Her jaw works, her gaze falling to the floor as she nods and clears her throat, trying to hide the emotion clearly welling up inside her.
“I know you tried. It’s not your fault.”
“No, Sig, you don’t understand. I’m still going.”
