Page 60 of The Worst of Them

She didn’t know what she might say or do if she were so carefree, but she struggled to match their enthusiasm by staying sober.

Down the beach, Jack was happy and at ease with his friends, drinking just as much. She wondered if he did it to escape the fact that he was still stuck with her.

This was to be their life—stuck with so many people in love while hating each other. But it was all for Hester. For Hester, Cecily told herself she could endure it.

As night fell, the couples paired off and sauntered into the trees—first Killian and Fay, then Frederick and Maria a short time later. Hester was the last to go, rising from her spot beside Cecily when Greyson and Jack walked over.

“I’ll see you in the morning?” Hester asked, her face so full of cheer that Cecily made herself return the smile.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” she replied.

Hester took Greyson’s hand, and they disappeared into the forest, leaving Jack and Cecily alone on the beach. She didn’t look at him, didn’t want to see his eyes as her heart sank with misery from his mere presence, so she stared at the bottle hanging loosely from his fingers. In the rising moonlight, there was still a good amount of liquor left inside.

“We’re going to the inn,” Jack said flatly, and headed for the forest.

She considered staying on the beach to spite him, but he would certainly find some way to get her to go with him, whether through threats or outright violence. Anticipating the inevitable, Cecily shouldered her pack and trailed behind him through the woods. She hardly dared to raise her voice when she asked, “We’re not going back to the Fortuna?”

Jack turned his face to the dark canopy above. “I’m well on my way to being rather drunk. Thankfully. Finally. I’m not going all the way back to the ship. I’ve been on it for months, and I want a bed in a room that isn’t floating.”

Trees creaked in the dark, their leaves rustling, and she wavered between walking close to Jack or taking her chances with whatever haunted the forest. Such were her fears that she didn’t realize he had stopped walking until she collided with him.

She squeaked in surprise. Her eyes darted to the forest, frantically searching for the reason they’d halted. But nothing seemed amiss as bugs sang and chirped, and the breeze played through the trees.

Jack’s voice was grave. “Did they tell you these woods are haunted?”

Heat rose to her cheeks, and she wondered how drunk he was. “Yes.”

He watched her with one tired blue eye. “Are you afraid?”

She had no doubt he wanted her to be frightened, solely for his own amusement. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction, so she held her ground and remained silent.

He laughed—little more than a lazy, indolent puff of breath—and started moving again, confidently navigating the dark with only spots of moonlight to show the way. When they reached the inn, he moseyed up to the bar.

“One room,” Jack said to the barmaid. He gestured vaguely toward Cecily. “And one for her too, I guess.”

In the light, his eyes were tired, and there was no hint of the laughter she’d heard from him all afternoon. He didn’t bother to look at her, and she wished with all her being that she could be anywhere but with him.

“Can’t I go back to the ship?” she asked. It sounded too much like begging, so she took a breath and said, firmer this time, “I’d rather go back.”

“No.”

“Why?” she demanded. She didn’t want to be forced to spend her money here when all she had was intended for something other than patronizing a pirate city. The gold in her pack was her home, her life—everything beyond Jack Copson and the crackling, agonizing tension between them.

“Because I don’t want to go back. And if I’m not going, neither are you.”

Her knees trembled. Would he be too drunk to follow if she left the inn and started running? Somehow, she didn’t think his sobriety would matter much if he wanted to hunt her. And with his father’s threat hanging over his head, he’d be sure to find her quickly.

The woman at the bar traded Jack a key for a coin, then she looked at Cecily, a second key in hand.

Cecily glanced between them before admitting, “I’m saving my money.”

Jack hung his head in exasperation, then finally turned his gaze on her. “You’ve been free for barely two weeks,” he said tersely. “What could you possibly already need it for?”

Her hackles rose. “Hopes and dreams,” she said, coating the truth with sarcasm.

The barmaid set the key on the counter with a clink and waited.

“Just pay her,” Jack said. “You’ve got more than enough for a room and whatever else you want.”