26. Tropic like It’s Hot
Tropic like It’s Hot
His arm is slung across my chest, his fingers drawing lazy circles over my skin. It is peaceful here, only the gentle splash of the low tide to be heard in the night, the other side of the island since quieted.
Smiling to myself, I glance down at Silas.
“You’re staring,” he mumbles. He blinks up at me, expression softening.
“Can’t help myself. You’re extremely attractive, if you haven’t noticed.”
I run my knuckles over his cheek, across his stubble. Maybe he can’t see it for himself, but he truly is beautiful. I’ve been captivated by him since he pressed a blade to my neck, after all.
And if I could, I’d stay here forever.
We should be sleeping, resting before we set sail toward his demise, but I don’t want to lose a single moment with him. I’m going to enjoy the last of the time we have together, even if it means I don’t sleep for the next several days.
“What are you going to do?” he asks, peering out at the water.
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
He leans up on his elbow, staring down at me as his hair falls around his shoulders, framing him in silver light. “Laszlo, we have to talk about it. We can’t stop this from happening.”
I sit up, gently nudging him away. We’re both naked, our clothes beneath us a barrier from the sand.
Annoyed, I reach down for my pants. Sir has since joined us, sprawled on a small corner of my pants, and he grumbles, standing and stretching as I yank them out from under him.
Shaking out the sand, I stand and pull them on.
I knew this was too good to be true. I never was going to get my happily-ever-after.
After years of searching, I have found the Westley to my Buttercup, and yet I am meant to leave without him.
“Where’s the fairness in that, Silas?”
He grabs his own pants and tugs them on as I stalk across the beach for my shirt. “What?” he asks as he hurries after me.
Ignoring him, I stoop for my shirt, but he reaches for the other end of it. I sigh. “Silas, let go.”
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 of my shirt.
“I can’t know my future. We could collapse time or whatever it is.
I can’t imagine you are allowed to change things.
And my crew, Laszlo. You would have me abandon them to that fate on their own? I’m their captain.”
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 mean my shirt,” 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 you laughing?” 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’re laughing. 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 you still laughing?”
“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.
His hands slide down to grip either side of the ruined shirt, tearing it completely before pushing the scraps down my shoulders. “It was already ruined,” he says with a shrug. “I’ll get you a new one.”
And though I feel like a cover model for a romance novel, it seems almost fitting on this beach with my pirate captain.
My hands reach automatically for the ties of his pants, and he scrambles for mine, and before we know it, we are pulled to each other once more, skin against skin.
We move together, me on top this time, pressing him into the sand, one of my hands on his hips, the other tangled in his long, mussed hair.
He kisses me fiercely, curses caught in his throat as we speed up, fighting against an inevitable end.
When he cries out my name, shuddering as I press a sloppy kiss to his sweat-slick skin, I can picture my entire future with him, a home in London or wherever he wants to live, sitting on the porch in the morning, drinking coffee, our hearts full.
And when we flop down into the sand with secret smiles and I lean up on an elbow to kiss his cheek, there’s the aching realization that I will never see that future with him. You wouldn’t know it with his scars and ink and wry smile, but he’s holding my heart with the utmost care.
And now that I’ve handed it over to someone, I’m terrified to let go.
“Where have you two been?” Charlotte asks when Silas and I emerge from the trees.
As if she doesn’t know.
The sun is still rising over the horizon, casting a warm orange hue over the water. I’ll miss the sunsets, the stars, the distinct lack of smog. I glance at Silas with a weak smile.
I’ll miss him.
“We had things…” Silas trails off as he rocks back on his heels.
Charlotte smiles. She notes our lack of shirts before her eyes go to my hair, which I’m certain is a mess. There’s no point in trying to control it.
“Things,” she says, straightening with a laugh.
She claps Silas on his back as she crosses the beach and motions to some of her crew at the longboats.
The foremast is repaired, and the crew is securing it aboard the ship. I want to point to his ship and tell Silas that he can still walk away. He has been their captain for long enough; let someone else take over.
But he admires his crew with a proud, soft smile, and I know he won’t stand down from this thing he loves.
Silas nods to me before jogging across the beach to the longboats. I watch from afar as he helps lift barrels and supplies into them, his muscles moving, sweat glistening on his shoulders and chest.
“Where’s yer shirt?” Pip asks, sidling up next to me. Sir pads after him, licking his chops and pleased as if Pip just fed him a treat.
I cough as Pip’s smile widens, his brows arched. I try to come up with another lie, but this crew is clearly well aware of my and Silas’s relationship.
“Oh, you very well know, Pip.”
He smiles and crosses his arms over his chest. “Aye, I do.” He glances dramatically around the beach. “I reckon we all do.”
“That’s nice,” I mutter, turning to go.
“It’s all right to smile from time to time, Laszlo!” he calls after me. I shake my head at him, but even now I can feel my features shifting, the tug of my lips as I laugh.
I’ll miss this crew, too.
I sprint across the beach and help fill the last of the longboats. Charlotte’s crew is nearly finished, their boats traveling between her ship and the privateering ship anchored in the bay, moving supplies to her vessel.
Silas saunters toward me, sinking into the wet sand as he wipes an arm across his brow, catching sweat. Even now, the scent of him overwhelms me, and it takes every bit of my willpower not to tug him back down to our secluded beach.
The last of both crews on the beach stop what they’re doing and turn to the horizon.
Charlotte sidles up next to Silas and lifts a discarded piece of fabric in the air.
I see the spark of fire from the longboat bobbing near the privateering ship.
My gaze clings to the ball of flame as it flies up and over, landing on the ship’s deck.
At first, there’s nothing.
And then it catches.
The fire burns fast and hot. The flames lap at the wood, engulfing it within minutes as the longboat rows rapidly away from the flaming ship. I scan the beach, pivoting to see the last of our new crew who have not yet boarded a longboat stop and stare.
“Why burn it?” I ask, leaning toward Silas.
“The crew chose to join Charlotte. She doesn’t want the ship, I don’t want the ship, and we don’t have the means to disguise it even if we wanted to.” He shrugs.
“So you burn it?”
“So we burn it.”
I linger beside him for as long as I can, but as if he can sense my dread, Silas squeezes my arm. I meet his gaze, even though I don’t want to hear the words.
“It’s time to go,” he says softly.
My mouth goes dry, and I spin on my heel and take in the beach once more.
I hear the crew filing into the second-to-last longboat, and then there’s only one.
But I don’t want to leave. This is where we spoke our truths.
This is where I told him how I came to be here.
This is where I kissed him and held him and laughed with him like there was nothing to worry about.
This is where we are happy.
I pat my pockets, sighing as my fingers find the bulge of my phone and journal. It takes every ounce of willpower to force myself across the beach and into the last boat.
Silas must see it in my face, because he deposits a mellow Sir in my lap and takes the oars up instead, steering us toward the ship.
My stomach sinks when we reach She Deceitful and Silas hands Sir to Pip as the rest of the crew clambers up the rope, and then it’s only Silas and me left.
We bob silently in the water, hearts on our sleeves.
He looks at me with a sad smile and leans forward to run a finger along the back of my hand.
“We still have time,” he promises. “This isn’t the end.”
No, not yet. But it may as well be.
I smile weakly as he reaches for the ladder. “Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, you’re right. Plenty more time.” But I do the calculations in my head, cross off the days on the calendar.
He climbs up and disappears over the side of the ship first. I hook the boat to the lines before I begin the ascent. Just before I reach the top, a familiar hand extends over the railing, and I take it as Silas pulls me over.
He grins up at me, his fingers dancing over the back of my hand, writing me love letters in touch alone.
My heart sings, and I can almost pretend that we have a chance at a happily-ever-after.
But then he turns to go address the newcomers, and I am left to fade into the back like I was always meant to.
My smile wanes as I look out over the bow to the island.
Chaucer was right: All good things must come to an end.
With a sigh, I turn back to the ship and nearly scream as I come face-to-face with Eddie. “Eddie!” I press a hand to my chest. “You can’t keep doing that.”
He squints at me. “How do you make a pirate angry?” he asks.
“Odd time for a joke, but how?”
Eddie smiles, and it lights up his whole face. “You take away the ‘p.’”
“Without the ‘p’?” I frown before it dawns on me. “Irate?”
He swivels back toward the deck with a skip in his step, but I stumble after him, my hand outstretched. My fingers grab for his shirt, and I tug him to a stop frantically.
“Wait, Eddie, that’s a play on spelling.”
He nods, still grinning. “I know.”
My stomach dips. “That means … that means you’ve known how to read and write this whole time?”
“Eh, I know it well enough. Mostly for jokes.” He winks at me. “Always wanted to be a performer.”
He strolls off and disappears belowdecks, and I am left to stare after him.
All this time.
All this time, Silas could have chosen Eddie to be the next cabin boy. He must have known, or at least suspected, but still, he chose me. He kept me aboard this ship, even though he clearly had another choice.
I press a hand to my stomach, a spark of hope igniting.