She goes back to silence, as I fill the air with humming. An old song my Mama would sing to me whenever I would cry as a child. I always found it comforting, chasing away nightmares and temper tantrums alike. Maybe it can comfort her too.
Or at least fill in the empty silence.
We carry on that way, me humming and her silent. Both scrubbing at our skin to remove the stench ofthe fight.
Although I think the caked blood and dirt under my nails is destined to stay a little longer, no matter how much I scrub at them, without a nailbrush it's useless.
A choked sob breaks the next moment, drawing my gaze back to Cyrus from my filthy nail beds.
Her head is tipped back, eyes scrunched shut as water droplets– that can’t be from the pool we’re swimming in– run down her cheeks.
My heart squeezes at the obvious pain coursing through her.
It’s been a long time since I’ve been out to sea, but after being around pirates most of my life, I know how each one operates. Their crews are their families. Losing one of them is like losing a sibling. And with how close I know Cyrus is to Amara, that wound must cut even deeper.
Yet, they all know the risks. They’re all somewhat prepared for the day the person fighting alongside them might fall.
For someone so stoic, Amara being hurt– although she is badly hurt– isn’t what this is all about. There’s something else too. Or maybe this is just an accumulation of everything.
Why the fuck do I care anyway?
My chest constricts, making me choose compassion over ignorance.
Swimming over, I stand in front of her and place a gentle hand on her shoulder. A shiver racks its way through her body and her bottom lip wobbles with the need to let go.
My voice is nothing more than a whisper in the wind. “She’ll be okay, she’ll be back to bossing everyone around in no time. She’ll be back to being your Captain soon.”
That causes another sob to break free.
Her eyes are still shut when she speaks. “She’s not mine.”
That's when the spark in my brain lights up. Not only is Amara injured, but she’s desperately in love with someone. Someone that isnotCyrus.
And now Cyrus’s love is unrequited.
That would explain her past rejections and makes a lot of what I know about the Burnt Bones crew click into place.
“Unrequited love is a bitch.” I mutter before wrapping my arms around her and dragging her into me.
The second her body is pressed against mine, the dam finally breaks. She cries softly into my neck, wrapping her own arms around me and pinning me tighter to her.
It’s the wrong moment to realise it after what she just admitted, but her body feels perfect against mine. Like we complete the puzzle to one another. Everything just fits into place, something I’ve never experienced with a lover before.
Not that she’s my lover.
We stand like this for a while, until her tears dry up and her breaths have evened out. When I gently release her, I plant a delicate kiss on her cheek before turning and heading back to the bank where our clothes sit.
Taking a seat on the grass whilst my skin dries under the gentle breeze and midday sun, enjoying the sounds of animals in the brush scattering about.
Cyrus takes a moment to herself before joining me on the bank.
She sits a few feet from me and instantly crunches up so her nakedness is hidden. Shame for her, I can still see the curve of her arse and hips. And the tempting swell of her voluptuous breasts above her arm.
Sitting back on my hands, I stretch out my legs and drop my head back between my shoulders. With everything on display. Which, why the fuck am I doing that? She basically just admitted to being in love with her Captain.
Maybe I can be the distraction she needs.
Maybe I just want attention.
