Chapter Fifteen #3
Nathaniel turned to face the floor-to-ceiling shelves that covered the wall behind his desk, his eyes scanning the spines of the books that filled every inch of them.
His gaze caught on the nearly worn-away title he had been looking for—The Odyssey.
He turned and dropped it on the desk beside where Oliver was sitting.
Oliver’s eyes widened as he gestured to the book with a half-amused smirk. “Is this supposed to clarify?”
“Yes!” Nathaniel’s eyes frantically moved from shelf to shelf, noting each and every title that he had poured over as a young boy, waiting for his father to return home from sea—Purchas His Pilgrimes, A General History of the Pyrates, The History of Four-Footed Beasts and Serpents—every myth or legend, every story recorded by sailors, soldiers, and explorers alike, he had memorized.
He didn’t believe them—not fully. He knew no captivating creatures were luring in the waters—whether sirens or mermaids—but that didn’t make him any less terrified.
“Odysseys’ men were nearly drawn in by creatures beautiful and alluring enough to make a man drop his guard and venture closer than he should, until…”
“He is drowned,” Oliver finished.
Nathaniel did not turn back to face Oliver, but he could tell by the heaviness in his voice that his smile had faded.
“Without resistance,” Nathaniel breathed. “Men follow willingly, expecting happiness in their embrace, but finding nothing but the cold sting of betrayal and death.”
“And you believe yourself in danger of such a fate?” Oliver spoke carefully. “That Emilia will somehow lead you to a watery grave?”
“Not in that sense.” Nathaniel’s chest pounded, nearly drowning out the sound of his own thoughts. Even the mere thought of the woman made him incapable of thinking clearly. “I am not even speaking of Emilia directly.”
“Then what on earth are you speaking of?”
Nathaniel turned back towards Oliver, but refused to meet his pitying gaze.
“Everyone!” Nathaniel shouted. “The moment a man allows anyone too much influence or proximity, he places himself in a position to be compromised. That is simply not something I can afford.”
Oliver’s shoulders dropped, a low hum escaping his chest. “So that is the truth of it, then. You withdrew when Sarah broke your heart. You had me believe it was because you needed time to grieve and heal, but you had merely decided that my friendship was no longer worth the risk.”
Nathaniel’s gaze shot up, “That is not what I meant.”
“I am beginning to observe a pattern in your life,” Oliver said, standing to his feet. “It does not serve you as well as you believe.”
Nathaniel squeezed his eyes shut, the pounding in his head intensifying. “I am responsible for much more than myself, Oliver. I do not have the luxury of misjudgment.”
“You see love as a misjudgment?”
“I see it as a vulnerability.”
“Vulnerability is a strength,” Oliver’s voice wavered on the edge of control, but his eyes held steady on Nathaniel’s.
Nathaniel scoffed, “That is quite the poetic sentiment.”
“That does not make it any less true!” Oliver’s voice rose, losing his battle with restraint. “Love is not a weakness, Nathaniel. Allowing someone to get close enough to help shoulder your burdens is not a surrender of power; it is the strongest thing you could ever do.”
The air felt thick, and Nathaniel struggled to breathe through the lump in his throat. He wanted to believe every word, but experience had taught him otherwise, time and time again.
Oliver took a step closer, laying a comforting hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder. “Opening your heart is terrifying, yes, and there are risks. But it is better than being alone.”
“I am a duke—I am destined to be alone!” Nathaniel stepped out of his friend’s reach.
“Everyone wants my influence, desires my fortune, and needs the protection my title gives them, but no one truly needs me. So why would I need anyone?” Nathaniel spoke each word with clear authority, as if his own confidence would help him accept them as truth.
“I needed you,” Oliver said softly. “Not your inheritance, not your title, not the Duke of Kenswick—I needed my friend.”
Nathaniel blinked away the tears pressing against his eyes, but a few slipped down Oliver’s cheek freely.
“When I lost my wife and child, I needed my friend. When I allowed myself to go too far in my grief, I needed my friend. When I began to rebuild my life and needed someone to remind me I was more than the shell of the man I had let myself become, I needed my friend—and my friend was always there for me.”
If there were ever a moment Nathaniel wished to take back his words, it was this one, but instead, he remained silent.
“You carried me through when I could not put one foot in front of the other,” Oliver continued.
“Yet the moment you needed me to do the same for you, you ran away. You shut me out completely, and did not even attend my wedding. So do not play the part of the solitary duke when you and I both know you are simply scared.” He turned towards the door but stopped short as he reached for the handle.
“I do not know what secrets Emilia is holding, but I do know that she is not your undoing,” Oliver said with a glance over his shoulder. “But you will be your own if you insist upon viewing every outstretched hand as a threat.”