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She stared off to the side in a daze. “Ye can’t be serious. Surely ye don’t believe that I called this storm in. That I set your lugger ablaze.”

“No, I don’t believe ye called in the storm. But I do believe ye to be the cause of the turmoil within me crew.”

Her chest tightened.

“The Cardys ’ave decided to leave the Pilferer,” he said, turning to face her with hardened eyes. “They signed up to work with a seinin’ company.”

Morvoren’s mouth dropped open. “What?” she breathed. “And they did so ’cause of me?”

He raised his brow, as if to say she should already know.

She shook her head in dismay. “I ne’er intended to…Had I known in the beginnin’—”

“But ye did know. I as good as told ye what’d become o’ me crew if ye continued with your games.” He shook his head. “’Course they be leavin’. ’Twouldn’t be a surprise if more left, too. After all, who would want to work for a drifter who be such a poor judge o’ character as to allow the likes of ye in ’is ’ome?”

His pointed gaze pinched her heart. How could he say such things, how could he blame her for the superstitions of his crew? Had he not promised only yesterday to choose her above them all?

Or had he merely said what she’d wanted to hear?

Her muscles tensed. “Is that how ye truly feel?” she asked, her voice hard. “Or how they feel?”

He shrugged. “’Appen they be the same.”

She shook her head, building the walls back around her heart to prevent herself from feeling the pain he’d inflicted upon her. She knew he was lashing out because she’d hurt him, too, but tears still sprung to her eyes. “What happened to ye trustin’ me, knowin’ I’d ne’er do anythin’ to hurt any of ye?”

His lips set in a firm line, and he took a step forward, leaning toward her. “What ’appened to ye not carin’ whether I be a fisherman or not?”

Her words from the evening before weighed on her chest until she could hardly breathe. Clearly, he assumed her departure, her not wanting to be with him, was because he was a fisherman. “I don’t…’T’ain’t—”

“Don’t give me your lies, Morvoren. Ye’ve made your desires perfectly clear. Why else would ye still be leavin’ after we kissed? After I promised ye that I’d give ye anythin’—” His voice cracked, catching in his throat.

Morvoren’s heart broke at the sound. She knew he had feelings for her, but she’d already decided that leaving would be for the benefit of them both—for the benefit of his whole family, even Tristwick. Surely this evening was proof. The departure of his crewmates, the town being pulled apart because of her presence, Poppy being hurt, Trevik in pain.

And yet, she couldn’t leave without his knowing the real reason for her departure. “It be somethin’ else, Trevik. Somethin’ else that’s kept me from—”

He waved a passive hand, cutting her off. “It doesn’t matter. Either way, ye’ll still be leavin’, won’t ye?”

He peered down at her, his eyes searching hers, as if he was lost at sea, searching for any sign of hope for survival.

She opened her mouth, longing to deny his statement, but she couldn’t. “I…I can’t stay. There be more to it than ye bein’ a fisherman though.”

He barked out a laugh that chilled her. “No there ain’t. It be as simple as that.” He moved closer to her until she had to crane her neck to still look into his eyes. “But ye go on ahead and do what ye do best—run away. And ye just keep runnin’ away ’til ye find what it is ye want in life. ’Cause we both know, ye ain’t goin’ to find it with I.”

Tears spilled down her cheeks. It wasn’t true. None of it was true. She’d been happier with him than she’d ever been before. He was the person she wanted to spend her life with.

But would he still want her after all of this? Knowing the truth about everything?

“Trevik,” she said, her chin quivering. “My uncle…”

“Don’t.” He held up his hand, silencing her once and for all. “I don’t want to ’ear any of it.” He looked away, as if meeting her gaze would make him weak once again. Straightening to his full height, he continued. “Ye be right. Your leavin’ will be for the best. For all of us.”

* * *

Trevik regretted the words the instant he said them. And when he finally dared a look at Morvoren again, the tears trailing down her cheeks and her quivering chin threatened to undo him.

Take back the words, Trevik. Beg ’er forgiveness. Beg ’er to stay.

But he held strong. She didn’t want him—she’d as good as said that again this evening—and no amount of begging would change her mind.