It didn’t matter at all that he had my map. Dane’s reason for forbidding maps is moot. It didn’t matter if they fell into the wrong hands; the wrong hands already had them.
I feel a pinch of resentment, thinking back about how much damage that rule has done. How many Voyagers could have found the waters sooner if only they had a map? How many of them could have gotten home long before this issue with Weston started? Has Dane done more harm with the rule than good? I understand he made it because his job as the Guardian is to protect everything here, but it’s also his job to help people find the waters and bring them home. No one has been able to do that.
The rule was made out of fear of what the Castaways would do, but the fear was unwarranted. They already knew, but they did nothing about it.
My vision blurs slightly as I try to reason through what this means.
Weston knows where camp is, but hasn’t attacked us. He knows where the waters are, but hasn’t gotten them.
So what does he want?
I lean closer to the map, focusing again and finding markings I hadn’t drawn into mine. They look like structures scattered around the island, similar to the Voyager safe houses. But I’ve never seen any of these before, and I’ve been all over this island.
I must have walked right by some of them and had no idea they were there.
My fingertips trace over them in disbelief. Why is the island hiding them? Why is it helping harbor the people who want to bring harm to others?
“It’s not polite to look through someone’s things.”
I gasp and spin toward the door to find Weston leaning against the frame, his arms crossed over his chest.
How long has he been standing there?
I hadn’t heard the door open, too focused on my discovery and the slew of questions it unleashed.
“That doesn’t apply if everything is sitting out in the open, especially if the person is being forced to live in the room against her will.” I lean back on the desk, gripping both sides and trying not to let my anger from before get out of hand again. Starting another fight so soon will not help with trust.
A hint of a smirk lifts his lips before they fall back into his normal scowl.
He saunters over to the desk, rounding the corner to the opposite side, and stops, resuming the same stance, and I spin around so he doesn’t have my back. This may not be a physical fight, but the same guidelines apply. Don’t give your enemy your back.
His anger seems to have dissipated, at least on the surface, and maybe that is a good sign. I’m thankful for whatever calmed him down so quickly, especially if it worked in my favor. As much as I don’t mind fighting with him, my mind is too full of questions to hold my own in another one this soon.
“I’m sorry I yelled at you,” Weston says, as he stares down at the desk between us.
Shock hits me like a blow to the chest.
Weston is apologizing?
My jaw falls open, but I stay silent, not wanting to interrupt him and knock him out of whatever stupor he’s in.
His jaw ticks, and he looks like he is trying to decide what to say next.
“You were just playing with Fin, and I see that now. I know you two have a friendship. You were concerned about him before…” His voice trails off, and I remember the day I searched for Fin, back when everything started spiraling out of control. Finding his things broken and scattered in the sand, fighting Weston. Him offering a trade.
It wasn’t necessary, because now he has us both.
But why does he want me?
“You’re right,” he continues, bringing my attention back to him. “I need to be able to trust you, but trust goes both ways.”
My mouth dries a little and I have to focus really hard not to let my body shift in excitement. This is it. What I said to him worked.
He is opening the door, letting me in and giving me some trust. All I have to do now is make him think I am doing the same.
He finally meets my gaze, and I nod slightly, agreeing to his truce.
Leaning forward, he spreads his arms out across the map between us. I try not to notice how the motion makes hisshirt pull tight across his shoulders, how the top buttons of are undone, exposing more of his chest as he leans forward. Where the hell is the damn leather vest he normally wears that keeps it hidden?
