“I don’t even know what more means,” I said. Then, quieter, “But I swore I’d never be like my father. Family’s not in the cards for me.”
Malia tensed, then sighed. “Me either, I think.”
“Why not?”
Had she been married? Could she not have children?
As if she heard the question in my silence, she said softly, “I think I’ll always be alone. I’ve made it this far on my own. Why would anyone stay for me?”
Guilt flooded me, thick and heavy, like rotting seawater in the brig.
I shut my eyes. The battle inside me surged like a storm tide.
I wouldn’t become my father. I couldn’t risk breaking someone the way he broke us. I’d accepted that when I chose this life at sea.
Which meant I had to leave Malia.
But she deserved more than loneliness. She deserved joy.
“You’re allowed to want more too,” I said.
She blinked, opened her mouth… but said nothing.
We sat in the quiet, both of us weighed down by the ache of unspoken hopes and fears.
And that silence? That was the hardest part.
I made a lousy meal—fish,rice, and steamed vegetables—the best I knew how. Malia had rested most of the day, but by evening, color had returned to her cheeks. She was sitting up on the settee now, freshly washed and composed.
Even sick, she was beautiful. That warm brown in her eyes. The sweep of her lashes. The soft fall of her hair.
It was wildly unfair.
We ate in silence until Malia smiled at me. I could feel her gaze, even if it wasn’t quite steady.
“What?” I asked.
A blush colored her cheeks. “This is delicious. Thank you, Alaric.”
“It’s nothing,” I muttered, embarrassed. “Especially compared to your cooking.”
Mine was hardtack. Hers was soft biscuits. No comparison.
She laughed, and something inside me sparked. I’d never made her laugh before.
I wanted to do it again.
“This is the kind of meal whalers eat,” I said. “Sometimes worse.”
“I’m not a fan of seafood,” she admitted.
Shame prickled. I hadn’t even asked. I’d just assumed.
“But if you make it,” she added, “I think I’d be happy to try it.”
“You don’t want my food.” I grinned, still embarrassed. “If we were ever together, I’d have to learn from you.”
The words slipped out too easily. What was I thinking?
