Page 81 of If I Go Down with This Ship

His grip is solid.“Why are you being like this?We’ve talked about this, Laszlo.We both know there’s no way—”

“And what if there is a way?”I ask, jerking on my shirt.His hands are balled into the fabric with a vise grip.“What if we could be together?If you just let me tell you about the—”

“No!”He wrenches away, and the fabric tears down the middle.“That would only toy with the space… the continue…” Confused, he waves his hand dismissively, dropping his end ofmy shirt.“I can’t know my future.We could collapse time or whatever it is.I can’t imagine you are allowed tochangethings.And my crew, Laszlo.You would have me abandon them to that fate on their own?I’m theircaptain.”

It’s my time to ignore him as I hold up my shirt.“Are you happy?”I ask, shaking it out.“You’ve ripped my shirt.”

“You meanmyshirt,” he says, hands on his hips.

I grind my teeth as I pull it on.It must look ridiculous.There’s a large tear down the center, exposing the better part of my chest.Silas watches me, and I can’t help but think he could pull off a tattered, torn shirt better than me.

He presses a fist to his mouth as I tuck the hem into my pants.

“Are youlaughing?”I demand.

Silas shakes his head and clears his throat.“No, I would never laugh at you, Laszlo.”

Oh, but he is.He is most definitely laughing.

I frown, dropping my hands to my sides.“Here we are, having a serious conversation, and you’relaughing.We’re talking about me going back to my own time and abandoning you!”

“You’re not abandoning me!”he protests.He sweeps his arms at the ocean, a smile still tugging his lips.“I’m telling you to go home.”

“I don’t want to!”

My anger fills me, ready to sour the memory of our night together on the sand, the memory of his touch and mine, and something in me deflates.I don’t want our time to be tainted.I don’t want to lose this.For a second, he appears angry, bent at the waist, shaking.But then a tortured gurgle of laughter bursts out of him.

“Are youstilllaughing?”

“Well, look at you!”He motions to me with a flail of his hand.“Laszlo, you look ridiculous.”

“Do not.”

Silas raises a brow and steps forward, and I almost think to pull him toward me, to forget our troubles and kiss him, but no, our problems can’t be fixed with kisses, as much as I wish it were true.

“I don’t want to leave you,” I say, softer.

His toes press up against mine in the sand as he brushes the hair from my eyes.

“Isn’t it better to have enjoyed the time we’ve had together than grieve what time we have left?I would do it all over again, Laszlo.Every second.”

I nearly choke on a sob.It feels like someone has pressed a weight into my chest and I can’t push it off.“You’re so cliché,” I say, voice cracking.He laughs and I lean forward, pressing my face into the crook of his neck.His arms go around me, and I breathe him in, squeezing him tight.

“Did you know that you smell amazing?”I whisper against his skin.

He hums, and the sound vibrates against my chest, in my ear.“What do I smell like?”

I twist a lock of hair around my finger.“Tobacco.Nothing like tobacco from my time; this is almost sweet.And there’s a burnt sugar smell, and just the slightest hint of salt at the edges.”

“Do you know what you smell like?”he asks after a moment.

My heart is in my throat.

“What?”

“Home.”

A sob rips through my chest, and his arms pull me tighter against him until I can no longer stand.We fall to our knees, and he drags me impossibly closer until I don’t know where he ends and I begin.When I pull back, his hands go to my face, brushing away my tears.His fingers linger on my cheeks, his thumbs pressing into the corners of my mouth, and then we’re kissing again, because there are no words or actions that better describe what we feel for each other than this.