A moment passes where I can’t do anything except stare at the words. They stir something deep inside of me.
How can she not be afraid of me? She saw my first mate get pulled overboard by the sea, and then she watched me leave him there. A man I had known for twenty years. She’s seen the people I work with. She saw the video Thorn showed.
From where Helena landed on the floor, her long, wavy hair has fanned out all around her. Her wide pink eyes watch me, and before I realize what I'm doing, I reach out and run my hand through the strands. It's silky and smooth and unlike anything I've ever touched before. She shivers, her mouth opening in a soundless gasp.
Then, the guilt comes crashing down. I lied to her. Her father sent me to kill her, for Fortuna’s sake.
Withdrawing my hand as though I've been burned, I grab my phone. I can feel the weight of her gaze as I type out a message and send it to her. The moment she gets it, her eyes narrow before she huffs.
Pushing herself up onto her elbows, she glares at me before rushing over to the shelf and grabbing a book. Without a backward glance, she takes the book and her phone and leaves my office.
Long after she’s left, I pull out my phone and look at the last message.
Me: Leave. Me. Alone.
A twang of regret flies through me, but I squash it down.
* * *
The restof the day passes by in a blur. Helena leaves me alone, and I push through my work. But something is off. No matter what I try, I can't help but feel like I'm missing something.
I try listening to my podcasts, but even the tale of a serial murderer and his eventual arrest don't bring me joy. Every two seconds, I expect to hear my FaePhone chime. It never does.
By the time dinner rolls around, I've given up trying to work. I head into the mess hall, keeping my eyes peeled for Helena. The crew keeps trying to engage me in conversation, but my efforts are half-hearted at best.
All through dinner, I pick at my pot roast and sautéed vegetables. My mind is so wrapped up in itself that I barely taste anything. I keep glancing around, my brows furrowed as I search for a now-familiar head of wavy hair.
It never appears. The mess hall feels emptier than normal, the atmosphere heavier than it has been for days. With a jolt, I realize what's missing.
Helena's silent laughter. The way her shoulders shake at a joke, and her eyes light up. Half an hour into the meal, my phone dings. I pull it out so fast, I almost drop it onto my plate.
My stomach drops when I look at the screen, letting out a breath I didn't know I was holding.
Jean Luc: Maddie asked to eat in her room tonight.
I stare at the phone in my hand as a pang wrenches through my stomach. This is what I wanted. So why does it hurt so much?
* * *
Helena never reappears.The next day, Jean Luc informs me she's asked to take all her meals in her room.
My phone remains silent, and my mood worsens with every passing second. The sailors keep their distance, and no one talks to me all day.
I'm alone. Just like I wanted. I get my work done, but there is no fulfillment in it.
Even the coffee tastes bitter on my tongue.
A glance at the navigation system tells me we'll be at the Gates of Hell in a week. What should have brought me joy instead just makes me feel... lonely.
I usually like being alone. Quiet time makes me happy. I thrive on solitude. Being alone is easy. And yet, every time I think about the future after she's out of my life, everything looks gray. Helena has brought life aboard this ship.
She is not simple, or quiet, or easy. She is infuriating, irritating, and intoxicating. Helena is bad luck.
And I miss her.
* * *
My eyes flyopen as something pulls me out of my dreams. I blink, rubbing the last vestiges of sleep from my eyes as I look around the room. What could have woken me? Waves lap at the outer walls of the ship, the sound a comfort after countless nights at sea. My heart beats steadily. It’s dark, the only light coming from the moon shining through the window, but as my vision adjusts, the doorknob turns.