I nod. “Yeah, I would.”
“Why? You wouldn’t stay with Dane?”
The words are tumbling out of my mouth before I can even process that I’m saying them, and it isn’t until they hang between us that I realize I actually mean them. This isn’t part of my lie.
“No one deserves to be trapped here if they don’t want to be. I’d make Dane see that, and he’d let me come back.”
I remember feeling trapped the moment Dane told me he didn’t know how to replenish the dust. Immediately my thoughts went to my fellow Voyagers, who didn’t know the choice was going to be taken from them. The same worry applies to the Castaways, especially the ones I’ve gotten to know. They’ve already completed their goal, they found the healing waters, and now they are trapped.
But Weston is the reason for that. He’s the one who is refusing Sig’s plan to let me go, and give everyone a chance to get off the island. He’s the villain here, not me, or Sig, or Dane. He’s the one saying no and controlling the fate of everyone around him.
“Then we need to get Cap to understand that, and change his mind. The only way he’ll say yes is if he can trust that you’ll come back.”
“I can work on that,” I say, and again, I’m telling the truth.
Maybe Sig’s advice the other night wasn’t just for Weston. The best way to gain his trust may be to stop being an asshole to him, even though it feels like he draws it out of me, challenging me at every moment. He says he wants to trust me, and he’s taken some steps to show me he’s starting to, but just when I think I’m making progress, something sets it back.
Changing my method might be in my best interest, and maybe instead of fighting, I need to start befriending. Being friends with Weston might just be his weakness, as long as I can keep from blurring the lines and falling into his trap.
With as little friendship experience as I have, I’m not sure how I’ll accomplish that, but I need to try.
My life on the island depends on it.
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Keeping the lines from blurring is turning out to be a lot harder than I expected.
The moment I decided to stop fighting back and to try to be his friend was the moment life on this ship became tolerable, like when the tumblers in a lock fall into place, and a door opens. I still avoid him as much as possible, but it is easier to exist in the same space when we aren’t at each other’s throats.
Whenever it is necessary to interact, we do, and it is…fine. Which is confusing, and I have to repeat the mantra that this is all part of the game constantly in my head. But now that I am not trying to sneak away, and he is not trying to keep me under tight control, we can move in the same orbit and I don’t have a constant feeling of hatred clouding my every move and word.
Otherwise, I spend my time elsewhere, running my shifts, playing with Fin, talking with the girls. I still feel like there are eyes on me constantly, watching my every move and hopefully deeming me trustworthy, but the days here have become so normal, so familiar, that it is hard to vilify the people I’m spending all this time with.
One night after dinner, Auralie and I decide to pull out some games and activities in the lounge to break up the monotony.She had taught us a card game she played growing up that can easily include all of us, so we move the cushions around and spread out on the floor to play.
Eirlik, Veck, and Ryum lounge in the chairs off to the side, passing a bottle between them and talking quietly, while laughter and noise softly echoes through other parts of the ship. Fin lies on the floor next to me, looking at a stack of picture books that appeared on the ship after he arrived.
It feels so comfortable and ordinary, it’s almost…enjoyable.
I never thought I would actually feel any positive emotions on this ship, and it’s pleasant and terrifying at the same time.
Sig flips a card over and Auralie groans, passing one from her hand across the circle to me. I smile and shuffle my cards around when a door closes behind me and multiple sets of footsteps approach from down the hall. I glance over my shoulder, my eyes falling on Weston as he walks toward us, Jorn following closely behind, their bodies strapped down with weapons.
Something that feels too much like worry fills my stomach. Weston never leaves, and I’ve never seen him this armed before.
Did something happen that we should know about? Was there another Voyager who found the waters?
Before I can stop myself, words are spewing from my mouth, betraying my feelings of unease.
“Where are you going?” I ask, the question making them stop just in front of the stairs.
Weston stands facing us, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword, and I focus on his face, fighting the urge to run my eyes over the rest of him.
Don’t get comfortable. This is part of the game. This is part of the game.
“Out on my shift,” he says, directly to me, as if no one else in the room exists.
Of course, Lennox, because you’re the one who asked.
