Chapter 45 #2
I hadn’t thought this through, hadn’t come up with an idea because I wasn’t expecting him to keep me from telling him.
My mind is blank of anything that would be worthwhile, because I am too focused on the feeling of him holding me, of pressing into him, and on doing whatever I can to stay right here for as long as possible.
“I bet…” I break my gaze away from him and look around, trying to come up with something, when I spot the bottles I abandoned on the rail, and an idea sparks.
He won’t be as drunk as last time, but if I can at least loosen him a bit, I’ll have a better chance of slipping out of the room unnoticed.
He might also forget all of his hesitations and stop fighting whatever internal war he is waging.
Releasing his vest, I reach out and grab both our bottles, holding them out beside us.
“I bet I can drink this,” I raise my bottle a little higher, “faster than you can drink yours.”
He quirks his head to the side, his eyes glimmering in the moonlight. “You really think you can win that game?”
“Yes, I do.”
He chuckles softly and I feel a slight flutter of his fingers on my sides. “If I win, I get my truth.”
I nod exaggeratedly.
His eyes narrow playfully. “And if you win?”
I bite my lip, pretending to think for a moment. I know what I want. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since the first time it happened, especially whenever he touches me, and we’re way past the simple brush of a hand right now.
I push his bottle to the middle of his chest with a dull thud. One hand releases my hip as he plucks it from my grip, while the other smoothes over my back, pressing into me and pushing me more firmly against him.
“If I win,” I say, looking him straight in the eye, hoping he doesn’t see any sliver of hesitation, only the desire I’ve been trying to hide. “I want you to kiss me.”
His eyes darken, his jaw clenching and unclenching as he holds my gaze. My stomach bottoms out and I have to squeeze my thighs together to keep from squirming under the intensity.
“How do you know I won’t let you win?” he murmurs.
My lips tip up in a deep smirk, and his eyes drop to them. I lift onto my toes, my breasts sliding against his chest as I inch closer to his face. His chest stills, like he’s holding his breath, like he thinks I’m the one who is going to kiss him this time.
“You’re too competitive to let me win,” I taunt.
Challenge dances in his eyes as he lifts the bottle to his lips, holding it there, silently agreeing to the terms of the bet.
My tongue darts out, wetting my lips before I follow suit, pressing them to the mouth of the bottle.
We tip them back at the same time, each taking slow, measured gulps, refusing to be the first to break eye contact.
He doesn’t know I am just drinking juice, and I can tell the burn is getting to him, but he doesn’t want to let me win. Whatever is stopping him is stronger than his feelings, because it would be so easy for him to stop, to pull my face to his, and give me what I want.
But I also want him to win. I want him to kiss me and to know I want him to, but I don’t want to leave tonight without saying what I need to say.
If he won’t let me tell him without winning this game, then I need to make sure I lose.
After all the grief I caused him when I first came here, all the doubt and fights and wounds, I need him to know that it all changed.
I pretend to choke on the drink, but instead inhale the liquid, sending me off into a coughing fit.
He lowers his bottle, and what looks like regret flashes in his eyes.
The hand on my low back moves higher, gently stroking circles as I heave coughs into my arm.
He reaches to the side and sets his bottle down, before his hand finds my hip again.
“You won,” I choke out, involuntary tears welling in my eyes. The coughs subside and I can finally take a deep breath, Weston’s scent and that of the sea filling my lungs.
He shakes his head and gestures toward the still very full bottle next to him.
“I think we both lost.”
Shit.
That hadn’t gone as well as I planned, and I need a new tactic.
“So, does that mean we both win?” I say, raising an eyebrow.
“Whatever you say, princess.”
“Well then.” I set my bottle on the rail next to his and rest both my hands on his arms, feeling the swell of his firm muscles under my palms. I hold his gaze, hoping he can feel the sincerity I’m pouring into my truths.
“Despite all the things I said and did before, I really do think you’re a great captain, and Blackwood is lucky to have you as the First Guard.”
Something between us shatters the moment the words leave my lips.
I can feel it in my chest as I watch his body stiffen. My truths were from my heart, because I wanted to leave making sure he knew that even after everything that happened before, and how our friendship started, I appreciate him.
It doesn’t feel like my words had that effect at all.
Weston stands, pulling his gaze away from me as he looks out over the deck. His hands tense, his arms extending and lifting me away from him, a void of space now between us. His hands fall away and I feel the loss of heat and pressure, missing it instantly.
I fix my face into a mask of neutrality, trying to hide the confusion and hurt at the rapid change of pace.
What did I do?
The little bubble we were lost in bursts, and the noise and laughter returns, forcing me to remember where we are. I watch as his jaw works, and fight the urge to look over my shoulder to see what he could be looking at as he ignores me standing in front of him.
He clears his throat, but still won’t look at me. “Have fun tonight. Looks like there’s still some room in the game.”
A chasm splits my chest in two as I watch him disregard the truths I told him, the ones he wanted to know from our last bet.
I clench my jaw, and inhale through my nose, trying to slow the heaving breaths and wavering chin I feel coming on quickly.
I’ve been trained for this, how to take unwanted news regally.
I’ve lived my entire life not showing emotion to my father every time he’s upset me like this, disregarding me and brushing me aside.
If I could do it then, I could do it now.
Weston steps around me before pausing, and I catch a twitch of his fingers, like he’s trying to stop himself from reaching out.
“Let me know if you decide to jump off my ship and go for a swim.”
He leans to the side and presses a firm kiss to the top of my head, a few heartbeats passing before his lips leave my hair, and he walks away without even a backward glance.
Painful tears prick my eyes, and my chest heaves with the breaths I didn’t want him to see. The kiss feels like a slap, and watching his back as he walks away feels like a door firmly closing on any possibility with him, especially in the wake of tonight.
It’s over. This was my last chance.
My chest feels like it is caving in, my stomach sinking as I fall in on myself. Folding my arms over my abdomen, I watch the rest of the crew out on the deck enjoying themselves. I spot Fin curled up and asleep on a large cushion, a blanket draped over him, the excitement obviously too much.
I fight back tears as I watch everyone I have grown so fond of, knowing that I am about to walk away from them, even if my entire goal is to help.
They might not see it that way. They might not think I’ll come back, and maybe they’ll believe that my entire time here was a lie, despite it starting out that way.
No one has ever left and gone back to the Voyagers.
I will be the first.
But I will return, dust in hand. There’s no other option.
I didn’t want to leave like this, not feeling hopeless and worried, not leaving Weston with any question that I wouldn’t return. After the way everything unfolded, the feelings of rejection coursing through me, I can’t help but wonder if I made a huge mistake.