Page 52 of If I Go Down with This Ship

With me from a different time.

Silas swallows and shakes his head.He squeezes my knee a second time before dropping his hand.And I wish he hadn’t let go.

His hand is comforting to me.

Heis comforting to me.

Sheepishly, he clasps his hands in his lap and stares down at them like they’ve done something to him—like I’ve done something to him.“I have loved countless times over, men and women.I have weathered so many storms, worked alongside hundreds of people with stories different than my own.”His voice is so quiet that I strain to hear.“I have lived so many different lives, Laszlo, but no one has ever made me feel as seen as you do.”He glances up at me now, and I can’t look away.He’s pulling me into him;I am caught in his orbit.“I don’t have to put on a coat and be a captain around you.I can be… I can be Silas.”

My stomach dips nervously, this time from the way he’s looking at me, like I have all the answers in the world.It’s both thrilling and terrifying at once.

Lips parting, I lean forward and skim my fingers hesitantly over his.He hooks his index finger around mine, and we let the weight of it settle between us.Thirty-four years on this earth, and no one has ever made me feel like he does.

I want to tell him about how I truly came to be on this ship.About falling through time, about the coat, what it could do for me, but what then?What happens if I do?Would he even believe me, believe the strange sort of magic that has put me here?Would he send me back?Or worse?

After a long moment, I open my mouth to speak, to tell him these secrets I’m harboring, but the look of joy on his face, the luminescent smile spreading across his lips, stops me.

I don’t want to ruin this.

I want this.I wanthim.

And I think, truly, surer than I’ve ever been, that I want it more than I want to go home.

Clearing my throat, I pull my hand away.There’s a flash of confusion across his face, but I slip down on the bed until I’m lying across his pillow, careful not to bump Sir in his corner.Smiling, I hold up an arm in invitation.

Silas looks from me to the sliver of space between us before he slides into it.He wraps an arm around my middle and nuzzles into my shoulder and neck, his lips pressing against my skin.His scent surrounds me, filling my senses, and it does more to soothe my seasickness than anything else has.

Maybe I’ll tell him the truth soon.I can’t hide it forever,but I want to revel in this joy, in this moment together, for a little longer before I lose the chance to be with him at all.And maybe that makes me a terrible person, but it’s all I have for now.

I tangle my hand in his hair and kiss his forehead, letting my lips linger.His scent is strongest at his temple, and I breathe it in, humming to myself.He sighs against me, pressing closer.And with the heat of him at my side and that smell wrapping around me, my eyes droop closed.

I would happily stay here forever.

Days earlier, our kiss was frantic and hungry.It was made of two men who’d been denying themselves for years.I felt like he had found me drowning at sea after decades of searching and rescued me from the lie I was leading, his hand a life vest.

But the way we are holding each other now tells a different story.It makes me wonder if there might be a future for us, if there might always be a future for us.It gives me hope and warmth, and the knowledge that if wetry, there’s a chance for us yet.

So I pull him closer, relishing the feel of his hands sliding across my skin as I sink further into sleep.And even there, in the depths of my mind, I know this is a terrible decision.That we can’t stay like this forever, no matter how much we want this.

But for now, in this cabin, on this narrow bed, I let our feet tangle, let myself drift off to sleep with something that feels remarkably like hope fluttering through my mind.

17Water Way to Go

Ittakes me three more days to adjust to the rough rocking of the ship.In that time, I sleep in the cabin.Hiscabin.It feels strange to rest in this place belonging to this man, but I don’t want to leave the comfort of the bed nook or abandon the sweet scent of his that lingers everywhere.I don’t want to leave him.

Silas strokes my hair while I’m sick and lays a cool, wet cloth over my forehead to ease the burning heat.For three days, he visits me off and on, spending several hours at a time at my side despite my deliriousness.The crew must see him slipping in and out of his cabin, and surely they know that I sleep in his bed, but if they say anything, I don’t hear a word of it.Any earlier reservations he had about the crew knowing about our relationship appear to be gone, and I wonder what that feels like, the freedom not to care what others think.

But our captain—Silas goes about his day seeminglyunchanged.When I sleep, he works, returning briefly during the day to check in on me and again at night to curl into my side, the two of us pressed close to leave enough room for the ginger cat at the foot of the bed.Though my stomach still roils with the coming storm and my mind feels hazy, I’ve never felt so at peace.

“You’re certain you’re up for it?”Silas asks as I pull on a fresh shirt on the fourth day.I try not to think about the fact that it’s his, that his rich scent is enveloping me as I tuck it into my pants, but it’s impossible.

“I think so.I haven’t been sick since midday yesterday.”

He nods and smiles as he pulls on his coat.My hands freeze on my belt, and my jaw goes slack.There are still flecks of blood in the blue wool, and though I try not to stare, I can’t help it.They’re only noticeable up close, but I force my gaze down to my fumbling hands.He has killed people, and I accepted that when I kissed him the first time.And every time since.

I blush as he adjusts my belt like it’s nothing, like his very touch isn’t making my skin hot.His fingers graze my side, and I contemplate pulling him back down into the nook and letting my hands roam all over him, but we both have duties to attend to.

Silas’s fingers catch my cheek, cupping it gently.There’s more stubble there now, a smattering of peach-colored fuzz lining my jaw from weeks of not shaving.