“You look exhausted,” he said. “Have some.”
Even without Cassian clarifying, James knew that it wasn’t a suggestion. He took the cup from Cassian and eagerly drank most of it down, though he wasn’t exactly fond of the taste. Cassian nodded approvingly, which made James want to melt into a little puddle on the floor.
James returned the cup. “Thank you.”
“Next time, bring a whole pot of it,” Cassian said.
“I will.”
Cassian finished the coffee, and then he handed the cup and saucer to James, who set them on the nightstand. After that, they both fell silent. Cassian began to chew on his nails. James started picking at his cuticles.
The awkward silence between them stretched on for several minutes as James searched his mind for an idea that might help return them to a state of relative normality. But he couldn’t find one. Because from the moment that he and Cassian had met, there had been a spark of something between them. And so, perhaps, for them, there could neverbenormality. Perhaps Cassian Penn Livingston and James Thomas Morrow couldn’t ever be something as innocent as only friends. And if that was the case, then...
“I think maybe I should change sections. In the saloon,” James said, the horrible, necessary suggestion making his throat feel tight and his tongue itch. “Because I know this voyage was meant to be special. For you. And for Ethel. And for youandEthel. And I feel like my presence is... complicating things.”
Cassian was quiet. He continued to chew on his nails. James hugged himself, crossing his arms over his chest and squeezing, as though maybe he could comfort himself through what he needed to say next.
“I still want to be friends. But maybe we should spend less time together. For now.”
More seconds of maddening silence followed. Then, Cassian let his hand fall to his lap.
“All we have is now,” Cassian said, his voice barely a whisper.
James shut his eyes as the truth of Cassian’s words smashed his heart in two.
“I know.”
Minutes and minutes of harrowing silence followed. James stayed frozen and endured it for as long as he could, but soon, the pain came to be too much. Eyes filling with tears, he stood.
“I have work,” he said softly, his voice wavering. “So long, Cassian.”
Heart hurting, James walked out of the stateroom.
Chapter Eleven
Cassian
Cassian moved through the next couple of hours as though in a haze, his eyes unfocused and mind adrift in a sea empty of thoughts. Vaguely, he felt a constant heaviness in his chest, but if he ever let himself acknowledge it, even for one second, the heaviness transformed into unbearable pain.
In the First-Class Dining Saloon, Cassian wore a false smile and somehow managed to eat breakfast, though he failed to register the taste of the food. Somewhere else in the saloon, James must have been waiting on other people, but Cassian couldn’t bring himself to check. He could only pretend that once James had left his stateroom earlier that morning, the man had simply ceased to exist.
Once breakfast was over, Cassian stood without saying a word. Beside him, Ethel made a comment about visiting the swimming bath, and Cassian hummed and nodded in response. Mr. Quinn asked if Cassian needed his help with anything, but Cassian waved him off and wandered out to the First-Class Promenade.
Outside, the scent of the salty sea and the feel of the cool breeze brought Cassian back to himself. Heartache crashed into him with the force of a violent wave, and he took hold of therailing for support. Still, though, Cassian almost collapsed on the spot. Dammit, why had James come to the conclusion that the two of them ought to be spending less time together? In other circumstances, perhaps Cassian might have agreed. After all, it had requiredimmensestrength on Cassian’s part not to succumb to the constant thrum of desire he felt whenever James was within reach. If they had been in New York, seeing each other regularly, then Cassian might have seen the benefit in the occasional reprieve from this relentless lust that made every Goddamned inch of him ache for release.
But they weren’t in New York. James was a steward, and they were at sea. And Cassian had been strong enough to restrain himself so far. Letting himself caress James’s beautiful cheeks had been nothing,nothing, compared to what he really wanted to do. He was perfectly capable of continuing to suppress the rest of his wants for the remainder of their time together. It was maddening to learn that James must have thought him too weak—of mind, of body, of spirit—to keep their friendship chaste for the sake of his engagement to Ethel.
Cassian clutched tighter to the railing, and he clenched his teeth as he realized how little James must have thought of him. And how little their friendship must have meant to the man, as well. In such a short time, James had become one of the most important people in Cassian’s life. Never had Cassian cared about someone else so intensely before. And yet James was perfectly content to just leave? James mustn’t have felt the same for him, then. He mustn’t have cared as fervently, as strongly, as intensely, as—
Cassian shut his eyes as the potential truth in that thought struck him in the chest, shattering his heart. And the resultant pain was so immense that it stole the breath from his lungs. For a long moment, Cassian struggled to breathe, struggled to pull in enough oxygen to banish the colorful spots that had startedto form in front of his eyes, blocking his vision, but he couldn’t seem to manage it. He began to wonder if he might perish right then and there, on the promenade of the most illustrious piece of engineering to have ever been made.
But then one more cool breeze blew past, and Cassian was somehow able to release enough of his sorrow and pain to keep himself from suffocating. After opening his eyes, Cassian still felt faint, enough so that he worried about flopping overboard, and so he staggered backward to find one of the unoccupied lounge chairs. He collapsed into it.
Minutes passed while Cassian fought to keep a neutral expression for passersby, even though he felt as though his whole entire self—everything he was and had been and would ever be—was shattering to pieces.
After a while more, when Cassian finally let himself think back on his and James’s time together, he braced for heartache but found himself momentarily blinded by a flash of rage instead, one that left loathing in its wake. How unimaginably cruel it was of James to have let Cassian care for him so passionately only to then have behaved as though the moments they’d shared meant nothing and therefore, their friendship must have meant nothing, too.
Thoughtless. James wasthoughtless. He was horrible and thoughtless and cruel and so many other wretched things.
