Page 50

T he midday sun is warm on my face when I step through the door of Grayson’s quarters and onto the main deck.

Salty air fills my lungs as I breathe in deeply, then let it out in a long sigh.

I do it one more time until I feel the tension in my shoulders start to ease, though it doesn’t take away the sinking feeling in my stomach since I heard Grayson disclose that he knew there were wicked men threatening the families of pirate lords.

He'd kept that from me .

I’d told him about my father and the struggles I’ve endured in the years since his death. All this time I thought my father was in the wrong. I’d thought he’d made a poor deal with Red Beard and our family had to suffer the consequences of his actions.

But it might not have been his choices at all that led to our family’s demise.

Grayson knew.

And he didn’t tell me.

Before he has a chance to walk through the door and explain his reasoning for keeping that knowledge from me, I stride across the main deck toward the hatch that leads down to the kitchen.

I feel their eyes on me—Grayson’s men watch me, like they always have since the moment I stepped aboard the Caelestia .

None of them have said a word about what they think of me.

Let alone, what they think of my . . . budding relationship with their captain.

Their silence speaks loud enough, though.

With the exception of Tommy and Doc, none of them have taken a moment to ask me a single question about myself.

Then again, I haven’t exactly given them a reason to feel like they can approach me.

With every step I take, I feel a rift forming between Grayson and me. Such grand words have been spoken. His proclamations of his desires for me . . . his promises to follow me across the world should my heart wish it.

In this very moment, I don’t know what my own heart wants.

Not when he has proven to be a hypocrite. Telling me there is no place for half-truths and secrets amongst us anymore, just for him to avoid the truth the very first chance he gets.

Anger sears through my blood, masking the wave of hurt that threatens to crush me from the inside.

The only thing stopping me from turning right around and putting my dagger to his neck is the small voice in the back of my mind that’s urging me to keep walking. Telling me there must have been a reason for him to keep that information from me.

When I arrive at the hatch, I peer down at the square holes that pepper the door. Light shines into the stairwell and I realize that small voice is much louder than I want it to be.

Bending over, I grab the handle and lift up. The rusty hinges squeak loudly, alerting whoever may be downstairs of my arrival. I close the hatch behind me as I make my way down the stairs and into the dimly lit kitchen.

The cook is humming loudly to himself in the corner, stirring some beige-colored stew that I know will taste divine, despite its homely appearance. But it’s the sight of Tommy hunched over a bucket of potato skins that makes me smile.

“What are you doing down here, Miss Rowenya?” he asks, finally looking up from the half-peeled potato in his hand.

After grabbing a knife from the counter, I sit on the stool next to his and snag one of the potatoes from the large pile between us. “Just needed to hide away for a moment.”

“Hmm.” He eyes me sidelong. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“Nope.” I slice off a piece of potato skin and it goes flying across the floor, missing the bucket completely.

“Sometimes not talking helps just as much as talking,” Tommy offers. “But I am here to listen. If you ever need an ear.”

Pausing, I look over at him and note there’s a change to the way he appears.

It’s almost as though he’s grown into himself over the last few weeks.

His face doesn’t seem quite as round and childlike, and the muscles across his chest are larger.

When he flicks another piece of skin off the potato in his hand, I note the size of his forearms. They’re slightly bigger than the last time I sat next to him in this kitchen.

“Tommy, have you been working out?” I ask with a smile.

Dark red stains his cheeks as he dips his head lower, acting like he’s trying damn hard to concentrate on his peeling skills.

I poke him in his bicep with my finger. “You have , haven’t you?”

The color of his cheeks grows a shade darker as he reveals a toothy smile.

“Captain told me I’m almost ready to move up in rank amongst the crew, but I need to be strong enough to work the rigging on the main deck.

He doesn’t want me being a liability to the other men.

So, he said if I build up my strength, the spot is mine. ”

Hearing that Grayson gave Tommy a chance to go after the only thing he’s ever wanted since joining this crew makes my heart stumble.

How the hells can I hate the male one moment and be fawning over him the next?

It’s frustrating when all I want to do is be mad at him.

Seeing the look on Tommy’s face makes me reconsider my plans of stabbing him.

At least for now.

That all might change once I corner him later and demand answers from him.

“I think that’s wonderful, Tommy. Your captain is lucky to have you. I know you’re going to be an amazing addition to his crew.”

He beams at me and the light shining from his happiness shoots straight to my heart. “It means a lot to me that you think so, Miss Rowenya. I just . . .” He trails off and starts working his knife in long strokes over the starch again.

“Just what?” I ask.

He sighs and I see the air of confidence he possessed just a moment ago snuff out like a quick breath to a candle’s flame. “I hope the crew accepts me. They aren’t exactly known to be the friendliest, and I’m honestly terrified of messing things up.”

“You will mess up.” He shoots me a wide-eyed look and I chuckle. “That’s because everyone messes up, Tommy.”

I point my knife toward the wooden ceiling where men’s boots scrape against it from above.

“There’s not a single man up there who hasn’t made a mistake on this ship, including your captain.

I’d even bet that all of those men have screwed up quite a few times before they got it right.

You can’t expect yourself to be perfect.

Not when you’re doing something for the first time.

I can’t tell you not to worry about it because, hells, I worry about everything all the time. ”

Leaning toward him, I place a hand on his knee and give it a pat. “But what I can tell you is that I’m proud of you for going after what you want and not taking no for an answer. There aren’t very many people in the world who have that kind of conviction.”

He looks at me for a long moment, then whispers, “Thank you.”

There’s a glint in his eyes that I notice before he clears his throat and turns away. That’s when I realize he’s probably never had someone tell him that they’re proud of him, that everything will be okay if he just continues to work hard and doesn’t give up on himself.

That is one of the things I’ve always been grateful to have received from my parents—their love and respect.

But having grown up in The Pit with no one to look out for him, this might very well be the first time he’s ever heard someone say anything kind about the work he’s accomplished and will continue to accomplish.

“You’re welcome,” I say, letting my hand fall from his knee.

After a while, we both settle into a silent routine and there’s only a few potatoes left in the pile. My hands are sore from the effort and my lower back yells at me as I sit up straight on the stool to stretch out.

Someone opens the hatch door and a stream of bright sunlight spills into the kitchen, nearly blinding me.

Shielding my eyes with my hand, I squint up at the intruder and the hairs on my arms rise when I see Grayson’s black boots descending the steps.

Bathed in an orange halo of light, his bright blue eyes meet mine.

My throat goes dry, but there’s no hint of the anger I felt when I first left his chambers.

That doesn’t stop me from reaching for it, though, because I should be mad.

And he doesn’t deserve to get off that easily.

But the rage is too far away now, and when I feel that familiar flutter in my heart as he extends his hand toward me, I know I’ve lost.

I feel pathetic as I set the knife down and slip my hand into his. They’re rough and callused from the endless years of hard work he’s done and I wish for nothing more than to have them explore every inch of my body so that I might feel the very power of what they’re capable of.

“Come with me.” His voice is low and gruff as I rise from the stool and try not to wince as my muscles awaken for the first time in hours.

Stopping at the bottom of the staircase, I turn around and say to Tommy, “You made my day brighter. Keep up the good work.”

He sits up a little taller and his gaze flicks up to Grayson for a moment, then back down to me. He nods and gives me a tight-lipped smile, but there’s a bright shine to his eyes that tells me all I need to know.

Then I turn back around and follow Grayson to his chambers.

The door snicks shut behind us right before I whirl on him and shove a finger into his chest, forcing that anger to rise, if only to ensure he doesn’t do this to me again.

“You told me once we kissed that things would be different. That we would join together and there would be no more half-truths. No more lies! Did you only expect for me to uphold those expectations? Or does everything that’s happened between us mean nothing to you? ”

My breaths come quick, and now that I’ve stoked the ember of my rage, I don’t find it as hard to feel the betrayal that stung hours ago.

Grayson reaches for the hand I poke him with, but I swat him away and step back. I don’t want him to touch me—to risk falling prey to what his touch does to me.