Page 57 of If I Go Down with This Ship

And it’s true.My stomach dips at the thought, at the jolt of adrenaline that rushes through me.I have never been happier to be alive, and as I stand on shaky legs, my attention is glued to Silas.He saved me.Again.I don’t know why it’s always him, why he’s always willing to risk everything to save me, but I’m grateful he was there to cut the line before the foremast could pull me into the ocean like the others.Grateful that he gave me a chance aboard his ship.

Grateful that he’s let me in.

Still, the knowledge that we lost some of the crew, that we lost an entire mast in the sea, weighs on us all.We cannot get far with just the mainmast.And as the winds die down and the storm calms, there is even less wind than before the storm began.Though we scramble to repair the broken mast, we simply don’t have enough supplies to do so fully.

I move to speak to Silas, to dispel any confusion about the journal, but he disappears down into his cabin with a slam of the door before I can reach him.Mick shoots me a look acrossthe deck but says nothing as he gets back to work, bent at his waist as he helps mop up the last of the stormwater.

With a sigh, I return to my work.I wait until night has fallen and I can see the stars once more before going to him.It is, as he told me, when he was reborn, when Silas Night came to be, and perhaps that why it’s easier.Talking with Silas at night feels different.It feels like a more honest time of the day, like it’s more difficult for me to lie to him with the stars guiding us.

Determination and worry twisting my stomach, I knock.

“Come in.”

I open the door and peek in, making certain he’s alone.Only Sir keeps him company, sprawled out on his desk, slightly damp and annoyed, but otherwise unharmed from the storm.I close the door and cross to the desk.Silas is seated behind it, leaning forward, elbows on the desk before him and one hand in his hair.Sir’s tail bumps his elbow with every swish, but he ignores it.Silas looks exhausted; the frown lines around his mouth are more prominent, and a deep V forms between his brows.

He doesn’t look at me when I stop beside him.Slowly, I reach down and slide his hand from his hair.He is tense the entire time, as if everything in him is itching to yank away from me.Silas simply sits there, muscles tight, eyes trained on the desk.Breathing deep, he exhales shakily, and after a long moment, he relaxes.

I run my thumb over his knuckles, over the bruising and dried blood there.I search the cabin until I see it, the slight dent in the wood on the farthest wall, a peppering of blood stark against white.How many times did he punch the wall?Beat himself down for getting the ship caught in a storm?

“Don’t,” he says.

Frowning, I thread my fingers through his and squeeze.“Silas,” I start, tilting up his chin.Finally, he looks at me, and there is nothing but pain and anger in those dark depths.“Silas, it’s not your fault.”

He works his jaw and his nostrils flare as he fights back tears.Yanking his hand away, he stands, shoving his chair until it topples behind him with a clatter.Sir grumbles and leaps down from the desk, padding over to his usual spot on the bed.Silas points to the door.“Anything that goes wrong on this ship is my fault.How do you not understand?I am the captain, and if I can’t keep my crew alive, how can they trust me to do anything else?”

“It was just a storm.You had no control over—”

“Just a storm?A storm that killed five of my crew!”His chest rises and falls with each breath, and his hands curl into fists, the dried blood on his knuckles flaking.It’s clear he wants to punch something again.

Shaking my head, I cup his face.He tries to step away, but I tighten my grip.“Silas, don’t do this to yourself.I don’t know a lot about charting courses and all the important stuff Astra does, but wouldn’t you have needed to backtrack exponentially to avoid the storm?It would have taken more time and resources, right?”He tries to tear himself free, but I force him to look at me.“Silas.”

“It’s my job to protect them,” he says softly.

“I know.”

Neither of us says anything for a moment.

“What was that journal you had?”he asks quietly.

“Notes.”

“On?”

“Nothing important.”

“You’re lying to me, Laszlo.”

“On the ship.On you and the crew.”I pause.“To help me.”

He nods slowly.Touching his cheek, I lean over his desk and blow out the candle before tugging him to the nook.I don’t know if I’m still allowed in here, if I’m meant to sleep down below with the rest of the crew, but there is no universe in which I want to leave him alone in his current state.

No one should be alone when they feel like this.

Glancing away, I strip off my wet clothes and hang them by the windows before reaching for a fresh shirt.He stands unmoving as I gently pull off his jacket, his shirt, and then his pants.Frowning, Silas holds up his arms as I tug the fresh shirt over his head, my hands skimming his chest as I pull it down.With a smile, I slide into the nook first, ever careful of Sir, lifting the blankets and holding out an arm to Silas in invitation.

Glancing briefly over his shoulder at the door, he climbs in beside me.

“You do a lot for your crew, Silas.You protect them, care for them.”Kill for them, I think.“I wonder who I would’ve been if I’d met you sooner.”