Page 71 of The Worst of Them

“Tell me the truth for once,” he said. “Tell me what you want to know. If I must apologize, if I must explain, I will. And if you truly hate me as much as you claim, tell me and I’ll leave you be.”

As though he was the only one using words like weapons. If she were to tell him anything true, she’d have to beg for forgiveness for everything she’d said, and she didn’t want to fall on her sword before him.

“Do you think I want to fight with you?” he asked as her silence stretched. “I don’t. It’d be so much easier if we didn’t.”

Meeting his eyes, she said, “Then leave me alone and we can stop fighting.”

With a quiet sigh, his hand slid away from her waist, brushing over her hip before falling back to his side. “Alright,” he whispered. The gold coins appeared again. “But may I make one request?”

She didn’t reach for the money but nodded anyway.

“I won’t take your knife. I won’t bother you. I only ask that you don’t go off alone—because it’s Tortuga, and it’s an easy place to get murdered or robbed. We keep each other safe here, so stay with Maria and Fay or Hester. Stay with my friends. Or if I’m your only option for company, I’ll bear it silently as you wish.”

“Will your father approve?” she sniped.

“He cared nothing for your absence when I saw him today. Besides, he’s not here, so I hardly think his opinion matters.”

She pursed her lips and swung the door out of her way, welcoming her to darkness and silence.

“I am sorry,” he whispered before she could go in. “For what it’s worth.”

In spite of herself, she smirked, the threat of tears long gone to leave only numbness in its wake. When she looked back at him, his eyes held steady on hers. “You’re a pirate prince, and I’m young, hateful, and ruined. I don’t think anything either of us says is worth much at all.”

She stepped inside and closed the door.

17

FOR WHAT IT’S WORTH

For three weeks, Cecily tried to hate Jack.

She should have known how hard it would be from that first night when she was kept awake through the early hours of the morning, Jack’s apology echoing through her mind as though to tempt her into forgiving him.

I’m sorry…for what it’s worth.

Forgiving Jack would be terribly inconvenient. If she forgave him, she’d undoubtedly love him, and then she’d be in love with a man who was somehow above her, and after a year of being ground into a beastly woman with uncommonly high morals she could hardly keep half the time, she would not let herself be taken for a fool. Again.

But she could make him mean nothing to her. It would be easy once set her mind to avoiding him, and she was thankful he had promised to leave her be.

The next morning, she took her time braiding her hair into a crown, hoping to miss Jack leaving his room. She assumed he’d be gone by midmorning, but when she stepped into the hallway, Jack’s door opened at the same time, and they nearly crashed into one another.

They froze, their chests almost touching. Cecily dared not breathe or speak, even as she waited for him to say something. Jack’s throat bobbed, his lips parted, and with a small exhale that somehow sounded resigned, he stepped back to allow her room to pass.

A pebble of disappointment sank to the bottom of her gut, but what did she expect? Another apology after she’d denied the last one?

No, she chided herself. He can’t give you anything worth wanting.

Not apologies, money, swords—not even love.

Squaring her shoulders, she strode past. When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she heard him grumble a curse, and then came his steady gait. She rushed for the front door, pushed into the street, and fled for the cove.

Every morning after that, Jack left early and slammed his door loud enough for her to hear. Only then did she leave her room.

During the first week, Cecily set her focus on Hector Hein.

He met the pirates every afternoon at the outcropping over the governor’s house, the only place they were all comfortable meeting to discuss the heist (and because “the cove is strictly for lowlifes, and the woods will eat him,” as Maria had said before refusing to offer any clarification for what that meant). He swaggered in as though he were one of the crew, always greeting Cecily with a lazy grin and a sultry, “Hello again, lovely.”

She wondered if it was a blessing or a curse that she didn’t fear dangerous men as she should. In fact, she trusted him, if only because she knew most of what he said were lies. His chilling presence soothed her, so she stayed near enough to breathe it in and wrap the cold around her softened heart.