16. Having a Whale of a Time
Having a Whale of a Time
Someone pats my back as I heave over the side of the ship. I thought I was done. I thought my body had grown used to it. But apparently, some people (namely me) never get over seasickness.
“Make it stop,” I say, moaning. It hurts to even talk. The pain is so excruciating, it feels as though I’ve swallowed one of Captain Night’s knives and it’s lodged itself in my throat.
“Ah, there you go,” Mick says soothingly. He squeezes my shoulder gently, and the motion makes me gag, as though he’s wringing out my stomach.
It’s the worst feeling, I think. My insides feel hollowed out, and my entire body aches with each heave of my stomach.
It’s as if someone has filled me with acid and shaken me up.
My mouth tastes disgusting, and my throat is dry and achy, but I can’t keep anything down.
Chills rack my body, my strength all but evaporated.
Everyone keeps telling me I’ll get over it, that this will get easier, but I think they’re lying to make me feel better.
“I thought I was done.”
“You know,” Eddie starts, sidling up next to us, “they say seasickness comes in waves.”
Jack, Mick, and I all groan in unison.
“That may be the worst one yet,” Jack says with a shake of his head.
I open my mouth to reply but surge over the railing to dry heave. This is torture. There is nothing left in my body.
With a sigh, I roll over and blink up at the sky and the dark gray clouds that have rolled in these last few days.
Sir nudges my cheek with his cold, wet nose, probably to see if I’m still alive.
I scratch his head weakly, eliciting a purr.
The wind is choppy, and the water is choppier.
The more the ship shifts, the more my body refuses to acclimate.
I haven’t eaten anything but bone broth in three days, and if I swallow another mouthful, I’m going to lose it.
“Why don’ you lay down, Laszlo?” Jack says, stopping to my right.
“I’m already lying down.”
“Why don’ you lie down belowdecks, hmm?”
“No one else is lying down,” I argue.
“Yes, but you should lie down,” Mick says from somewhere to my right. “Somewhere else,” he adds.
“They say seasickness comes in waves,” Eddie booms. Again.
Wiping my chin, I squint up at the man. “Eddie, I’m usually a fan of your jokes, but you’ve already used that one.” I gag, and Sir lurches away. “Like, literally a minute ago. Did you think repeating it would elicit laughter?”
“I’m running out of jokes, Laszlo. I thought perhaps you hadn’t heard me the first time.”
“Oh, we ’eard you,” Jack mutters.
Mick frowns. “How many jokes do you have, Eddie? Ten?”
“A few more ’n that,” Eddie mumbles.
Jack rolls his eyes and shares a look with Mick over me. “Laszlo, we’ve all been out at sea for years now. You’ve been ’ere for a few weeks, mate. Why don’ you go get some sleep, hmm?”
Before I can protest any more, Mick and Jack lift me by my armpits. I struggle to stand, my hands gripping the railing for balance, knuckles bone white. I open my mouth to retort, but another wave of nausea threatens. Holding up a hand, I lean over and vomit the last of the broth.
Apparently, I did have more I could bring up.
“Put him in my cabin,” a voice says, a familiar hand touching my hip.
His first name dances on my tongue. After you’ve kissed someone—more than once—using formalities feels a bit strange, but I’ve never used it, never said it out loud, and I’m certainly not saying it for the first time in front of this lot.
“That’s not necessary, Captain,” I say, waving a hand weakly, gently removing his hand before anyone spots it.
“You’ll be out of the way,” he protests. We stare silently at each other, but he doesn’t budge. His expression is inscrutable. Smiling as though he realizes he’s won, he nods to Jack and Mick, who help me down the deck, Sir trotting behind us.
But walking is worse. Walking makes my stomach gurgle, and my head goes light.
I moan, one hand going to my stomach as they drag me across the deck and down the stairs.
They deposit me at the window nook in the cabin behind the black curtains, and I want to curl into the blankets, into the soft sheets and pillows that smell like him, but I won’t let myself, won’t let them see just how comfortable I am in his bed.
But Sir does. He hops up onto the bed and flops down in his normal spot in the corner, completely unbothered.
“Do you need anything else?” Mick asks from the doorway.
“I’ve got him from here,” Captain Night says.
Eyes closed and face pressed to the glass, I breathe deeply, listening with bated breath as the door clicks shut behind Jack and Mick and Captain Night makes his way across the captain’s cabin toward me.
“You will get used to it.”
I force open my eyes and peer at him as he gets closer. “What makes you think that, Captain?”
He pauses awkwardly by the bed, and after a moment sits down on the edge, spreading a hand across the blankets.
But he won’t look at me. “I wish you would call me Silas,” he says.
There’s a waver in his voice, and the sound of it tears at me.
He is so vulnerable suddenly. “Aren’t we past titles, Laszlo? ”
I tilt my head at him, curious. “You’ve never said anything about it until now.
And I wasn’t sure about addressing you in front of the crew.
” All those moments alone, the time in his room at the tavern, when we last kissed in this very room …
he’s had so many chances, and I was always too afraid to ask.
Silas laughs, the sound more disbelieving than anything else, and drops his hands to his lap. He looks at me, and his brow is furrowed in concern, lips curved down ever so slightly. I want to tug at the corners.
“Do you not want people to know, Laszlo?” he asks.
“I never said that.” I puff out my cheeks and blink up at the ceiling. Right now is not the best time to have this discussion.
He stares down at his hands. “You won’t sit next to me in the mess. You’re intent on sleeping below with the crew. You removed my hand on the deck—”
“I thought you didn’t want the crew to get the impression that there was something else between us.”
Silas frowns. “I never actually agreed to that. I don’t want to hide you, Laszlo.”
“You can’t have it both ways,” I say, gripping the edge of the blanket. “You can’t push me away because you’re worried they’ll think it’s favoritism, and then tell me you don’t want to hide it.”
“Perhaps you’re right,” he admits, “but I want you more than I’m worried about what they’ll think.” He struggles with his next words. “Have … I done something wrong, Laszlo? Do you not want to be seen with me?”
The world feels like it’s falling out from beneath my feet.
My head is dizzy, my body unsteady with the rocking of the ship.
I never thought he would be the one to doubt my feelings.
From the moment I set foot on this vessel, I’ve found myself increasingly drawn to him.
And each new thing I learn, each new piece I get of the puzzle that is Captain Silas Night, only makes me want him, all of him, more.
He, on the other hand, has been nothing but confusing.
There are moments when I think he’s reaching for me, but he drops his hand.
There are other times when he pulls the captain card but looks at me with this intensity that has me curling into a ball and itching to run my hands over him in the same instant.
Liking this man is a roller coaster.
“I can’t read you,” I admit. His expression is pained, but I barrel on.
“One second, you’re kissing me, the next you’re treating me like the rest of the crew.
And that’s fine,” I say quickly when he opens his mouth to protest. “You’re our captain, and I understand that there are politics at play, but I… ”
Another wave of nausea overcomes me, and I press a fist to my mouth. God, this is not the best time for this.
“Laszlo…” he says, trailing off as he reaches for me. His hand settles on my knee, and he squeezes. It’s so gentle that I almost want to cry.
I’m just so happy to be with him. Isn’t that worth it?
Isn’t whatever this is between us worth being stuck in this time?
Why can’t I just enjoy this for what it is?
Why do I constantly worry about what’s next?
I know it would be easier if I didn’t feel this way about him, if he hadn’t somehow captured my heart in so little time, but I can’t seem to give up on this thing between us no matter how logical the argument.
“How does this work?” I ask. I press a hand to the window to steady myself. The glass is cool under my fingertips, and when I peer outside, the impending storm is in the near distance. “How can we make this work with you as my captain?”
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.
He is 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 want him.
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 we try, 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.