Chapter 14
The moon had long since reached its peak by the time Fox finally returned to his cabin.
Most of the other crew members had gone to bed near dusk, exhausted by their hasty departure from the Teeth, but Fox had stayed up to play dice with the night watch.
He wasn’t tired—he didn’t want to be tired.
Restlessness skittered under his skin like beetles, and he knew without the distraction of company it would only get worse as the night wore on.
Finally though, after Fox had won a dozen coppers off them, the watchmen had kicked him out of the game and he had nothing else to do but go back to his room and try to get some sleep.
His empty, cold room.
Fox slumped against the door. He’d shared a room with Logan for almost six years until he and Gael had reunited. Now he was alone. His room, his home, looked empty without Gael and his things.
A small well of emptiness settled into the pit of his stomach.
It was only the first night without Gael here.
How was he supposed to do this till winter?
Maybe forever, if they ran into trouble—which was likely.
Fox pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, trying to smother the anxiety that threatened to crumble his edges.
He couldn’t think of the possibility of never seeing Gael again.
Of Gael being taken away from him. In this line of work, there was always the chance they’d die before their time, but the thought that they might not be together when it happened, that Fox might never know what had happened if Gael failed to return, would be too much to bear.
He had to stop. He had to figure out how to live normally without Gael.
Fox pushed off the door, yanked his shirt off over his head, and toed his boots into the corner.
He’d stayed up way too late trying to stave off the loneliness that was now settling in for the long haul.
Fox collapsed onto the bed. He should just sleep.
You couldn’t be lonely or anxious if you were unconscious, right?
Fox curled up beneath the blankets, clutching the pillow close to his chest, and nestled his face into Gael’s scent.
Gael always teased that Fox slept like his namesake, a fox kit all curled up into a tiny ball to avoid being seen, an old habit from their childhood on the streets.
The same habit that compelled Gael to always sleep with Fox in his arms.
He should have said yes when Gael asked him to go with him.
Or, no, that wasn’t right either. Fox couldn’t stand the thought of being apart again, but he couldn’t bear to leave the Siren Song either.
There was no right answer. Either they were together and one of them was not where they wanted to be, or they were apart and miserable.
Fox hugged the pillow closer. His throat felt tight, but he was determined not to cry. He’d already wasted so many tears on Gael. Besides, this time it wasn’t forever. This time he’d given his blessing and knew Gael loved him.
So why did he feel so alone?
Anxiety kindled in Fox’s gut. He was pathetic.
Not even able to spend one singular night alone.
He’d assured Gael that he wouldn’t have to use the generous offer of fulfilling his needs elsewhere while Gael was gone, but here he was craving physical affection like a parched man surrounded by salt water.
And Gael’s warm scent on the sheets wasn’t helping matters.
Last time he’d been alone, it was hell.
Fox rolled out of bed and knelt in front of his sea chest. He dug around in the dark till his fingers landed on what he was looking for: two lengths of old braided leather.
The bracelet Gael had made for him when they were kids, and the one Gael had left behind when he ran away.
Fox had kept them all this time, buried deep under his other possessions. Gael didn’t know Fox still had them.
After Gael had abandoned him, Fox had kept wearing the bracelet.
As painful as it was to carry around a reminder that Gael had left him, it pained him even more to pretend Gael had never been with him in the first place, that he’d always been alone.
It was only after Rowan and Logan took Fox in, and he began to feel at home on the Siren Song, that he’d had the courage to take the bracelet off and stow it in his chest. He hadn’t worn it in all the intervening years. He hadn’t needed it.
But now he did.
Fox sat back on his heels, looking down at the two short lengths of leather side by side in his hands.
The bracelets had been tight even back then on their skinny, half-starved wrists.
All these years later, Fox was well-fed and muscled.
There was no way the bracelet would fit.
He contemplated them for a moment. Then began to pick apart the braided ends.
The once soft leather creaked quietly as he unwound the strands, now stiff with salt and age.
Once he was satisfied, he wound the two bracelets together end to end, interweaving the strands of Gael’s bracelet and his own to make one that would fit the man he was now.
Fox slipped it around his wrist, and tied it tight.
Some of the anxiety quelled as the bracelets enclosed his wrist. But it wasn’t enough, this symbol that they belonged together. The loneliness still remained.
Fox stumbled through the dark to the door. He didn’t bother to put on his shirt or boots. He wouldn’t need them.
His feet slapped against the floorboards as he made his way down the hall.
Memory crept along at his heels like a friendly cat.
His first night on board the Siren Song a year after Gael had abandoned him, bruised and stabbed from a street fight, stitched up and taken in by Rowan and Logan and their scrappy little crew.
Then being suddenly left alone, and succumbing to the swirling horror that was his own company without another person to distract him.
He’d made this journey that night too. Same anxiety, same loneliness, same destination.
The door at the end of the hall wasn’t locked. It rarely was.
“Captain?” Fox shut the door quietly behind him. Rowan probably wasn’t his best option for a late night visit, but Fox’s feet had carried him where they wanted. He scanned the room, dark but for the silver moonlight slanting through the windows above the bed.
“Rowan?” Fox said again, his voice quiet, almost shy. He ventured a few more steps into the room.
Rowan’s slumbering figure shifted, one hand slipping beneath the pillow where he kept a knife, grumbling something Fox couldn’t make out. Then he seemed to come awake a bit more.
“Fox? What is it?” Rowan’s voice was rough and laden with sleep.
“I, um…” Now that he was here, he didn’t know what to say. Anxiety constricted around his throat.
Rowan shifted again, eyes still closed. The moonlight fell across his messy blond hair, turning it white. He sleepily stuck an arm out of the nest of blankets and gestured Fox closer. Fox obeyed, stopping next to the side of the bed to look down at his captain.
“Um…” Fox scratched the back of his neck.
His first night aboard the Siren, he’d tried to seduce Rowan, thinking sex was all he was good for.
But Rowan had scolded him, told him he was worth more, that he didn’t owe anyone access to his body.
And when Fox had cried from shame and relief both, they’d played cards till Fox fell asleep.
Rowan had carried him to this very bed and tucked him in.
Rowan spent the night on an uncomfortable wooden chair, and it had been the first time Fox had felt safe since Gael left him.
Now, Rowan flapped his hand at Fox again, still not opening his eyes.
“You miss him, right?” he mumbled, voice still heavy. “You don’t wanna sleep by yourself?”
“Y-yeah…” Sometimes Rowan could be shockingly astute, and gentle. If Fox had had someone like him all along, maybe he wouldn’t have turned out the way he did.
Rowan’s eyes slitted open, one blue and one milky green, gleaming in the moonlight.
“Get in here then,” Rowan sighed sleepily, moving the blankets aside.
Tears pricked at the back of Fox’s eyes. He’d half expected to be scolded again, and planned to try Logan’s room next. But now, in the silvered darkness of Rowan’s cabin, some of the loneliness and anxiety dissipated.
Fox climbed into the bed and tucked himself under Rowan’s arm.
Nephele chirred sleepily from her perch in the corner as the two men settled under the covers.
Rowan propped his chin on top of Fox’s head and slowly petted his long hair.
Fox sighed contentedly, nuzzling into the hollow of Rowan’s neck.
“No funny business, okay?” Rowan joked.
Fox nodded in agreement. Rowan’s fingers brushing along his scalp were already lulling him into sleep.
“Is the Demon going to kill me for sneaking into his husband’s bed?” Fox murmured.
Rowan’s chuckle reverberated through Fox’s body.
“I won’t let him.”