“Vidar, stop,” I said.
When he didn’t, I stood from the chair only for him to stand with me and grip my arms, keeping me from fleeing the situation.
“Let me take care of you,” he said.
I looked up at him and saw all the pain and regret he was harboring whirling like a hurricane behind his brown eyes, so close to unhinging him.
“You shouldn’t have come for me,” I whispered.
His brows drew together like I’d just punched him in the stomach.
“I told you if you weren’t back before nightfall, I would come for you,” he said chidingly.
“You don’t know what they would have done to you. Whatshewould have done to you.”
“It doesn’t matter. I got you back. The Weaver is picking up speed as we speak.”
“But Gus is gone,” I reminded him.
His expression froze for a moment like he truly had forgotten already. When he blinked, I almost felt guilty for reminding him.
“Vidar—”
He released my arms and turned from me, folding the bloodied rag in his hands before tossing it onto the desk. The need to comforthim urged my feet to move, but I couldn’t. There was a time that I would have rejoiced seeing him shatter, but now, after he’d carved a bloody trail to make a place for himself in my heart, I despised it. I wanted to fix him, but every time I thought of trying to fix him, I imagined my fingers made of knives as I was trying to suture a wound.
I swallowed, feeling at a loss when he turned to look at me again, taking a breath as if to regain composure.
“I know he’s gone,” he said.
Guilt spread inside me like a sickness, reacquainting itself like an old friend I never wanted to see again.
“Stop that,” he said.
“Stop what?”
“Stop feeling guilty for not being able to take back what happened.”
“If I could trade my life for his—”
“I know. I would have, too, but we both know how death works. There is no pattern to it. It just is.” He paused for a moment, turning his head to the sound of his men arguing with each other outside. “I need to handle things with the men and make sure everything is in order. They’re rightfully shaken. And… I need to put Gus somewhere safe.”
The way he spoke, so matter of fact, made my shoulders drop. Gus’s death was ripping me apart inside in a way I didn’t think it would and I knew it should have been doing worse to Vidar. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe he was much stronger than I ever suspected him to be.
He turned and began walking toward the door, but every step he took made me feel weaker. When he reached for the latch, my tongue escaped me.
“Vidar,” I said, my voice cracking involuntarily.
He glanced over his shoulder at me just as hot tears threatened to betray my pain. If he wasn’t willing to feel it, I would feel it for both of us.
When he realized my distress, he was instantly at my side again, cupping my face with his hands.
“I’m sorry,” I muttered. “I’m sorry you lost him. I know you are captain and you have duties, but I also know you loved him and you’re in pain.”
“I cannot do this now,” he said, wiping his thumbs across my cheeks, despite that I’d shed no tears. “I cannot mourn and protect my men at the same time. When we are clear of these waters, then we can surrender to whatever hole Gus’s death has left, do you understand?”
I sucked in a breath and pulled my shoulders back, lifting my chin. “Yes.”
“Good. Contend with whatever misplaced shame you’re feeling, gather your strength, and be here for the living, yes?”
