He felt like a heel. “I’m not good with this stuff, Kasra. I … I sink my teeth into a belief that something is wrong, and it’s very hard to let it go.” Case in point: his grudge toward Canyon still had razor-sharp teeth.
“You mean youchooseto hold onto it.”
“Back up there, chief.”
“When you choose to harbor that grudge or wrong, to choose it over the person, you punish no one but yourself,” she said. “You keep yourself in a prison of selfishness. Their lives go on, and you are left behind bars that keep your grudge safe and nursed.”
Her words were like daggers pummeling his walls. Disbelieving and ticked, he stared at her. This woman who had done unpardonable things and yet she schooledhim? And why the heck couldn’t he figure out what to say?
Because there was no argument. No justification.
“You are right,” he finally conceded.
She blinked, irritation smoothing from her brow. “And your hatred of me?”
This …Man, he was tangled up. Mad. Yet … “I can’t say that I would’ve made the decisions you made,” he said, holding out his hands in acknowledgement. “But I understand that you did what was necessary to survive. And … against impossible situations and odds.”
Lips parting, she stared up at him. Brow rolled. “Do you mock me?”
“No.” He expelled a thick breath, ill at ease with this swift change. No idea what to say or do next. His gaze landed on the blanket by his ruck. “We should rest.” He snagged it and dropped it on the floor. “You take the bed.”
She stood there staring at him, then the bed, and the blanket. “That cannot be comfortable.”
“Don’t need comfort. Just sleep.” He lowered himself to the deck and ran a hand over his face. Felt relief when she sat on the bed. Did his best not to look at her.
“You keep yourself in a prison of selfishness.”
By her account, he had been in a prison for a decade. Hostage to that grudge between himself and Canyon. Who—as she so aptly pointed out—had gone on with his life. Had three kids with Dani.
He laid back against the pillow. Stared at the ceiling. Ten years. His thoughts landed on his nieces and nephews. Now Stone was going to be a dad again. Range hadn’t even met his new supermodel wife. Or Willow’s new husband. Dang—even Runt had family he hadn’t met yet.
The Metcalfes were evolving. Without him. Those heavy thoughts dragged him into sleep.
* * *
Kasra bolted upright with a gasp, feeling as if the world was faltering beneath her.
“Easy,” Range said from the table, where he sat with a cup of coffee, which smelled amazing.
“Wh …?” She had slept all night? Without nightmares? She shoved her hair from her face and glanced around, feeling a … wobbling. As if someone had put something in her tea. But she did not have tea.
“We set sail.”
“Really?” Wavering, Kasra shoved off the bed and canted. Gasped as she braced herself against the wall, glancing around. “No windows.”
He smirked. “Once you’re ready, we can find a window and breakfast. Can’t go out on deck yet because we’re still too close to port.”
She smiled, but then felt her stomach shift. Groaned at the swelling nausea. “Is it always like this?”
Range eyed her. “Seasickness is common. We might need to get you to a window sooner rather than later. Seeing the horizon will help. You want to freshen up?”
Indeed. Maybe get rid of this taste in her mouth. Quickly, Kasra brushed her teeth and hair, then remembered his promise to find a window so she could see the sea and experience a thrill of excitement … that merely rushed nausea up her esophagus. She groaned.
“Yep, let’s go.” Range opened the cabin door.
Kasra stepped out and let him lead. They headed up a level and then banked right, down a long passage, which seemed brighter than the others. At the far end, she saw a window. She quickened her pace, seeing the water. So blue! “It is unbelievable!”
The window was in a corner. To her right, another set of stairs. To her left, Range planted himself against the wall, arms folded as he eyed the water.
