Page 111 of Freeing Hook

Charlie winks at me. “That’s because I’m your friend.”

CHAPTER 43

WENDY

My hands are shaking so violently I have to tuck them into my pants pockets and squeeze at the fabric by the time I find Astor.

He’s been avoiding me; that I’m sure of. I’ve been searching the vessel all morning for an opportunity to speak with him, but every time I’ve approached him, he’s found a reason to scold a crew member for their unbecoming posture, praise another for completing a menial task, or otherwise claim he’s hearing someone summoning him from above deck.

When I finally find him on deck discussing the behavior of the wind with Maddox, I’m unsurprised when, at my request to speak with him, he immediately attempts to rid himself of my presence. “Ah, Darling. I’m afraid the wind has decided to be a fickle mistress today. Maddox and I—”

“Were just finishing up,” says Maddox brightly, offering me a wink and Astor a toothy grin as he salutes, then ambles toward Charlie, who informed me earlier that she’d be “nearby for emotional support.”

“You’re avoiding me,” I say, trying to ignore the way Maddox’s fae ears are twitching and Charlie is looking at him expectantly. Clearly, she’s expecting him to offer her updates. Iwrench my attention back to Astor. “But if you could grace me with a moment of your time, I have something I’d like to say.”

Astor flinches, blinking, but he goes quiet.

I find I can’t bear to look at him, so I focus instead on the crate behind him, at the crack in it.

“I know you’re going to hate me for saying this. And that’s okay. I don’t think I mind all that much. But I’m so tired. So tired of never…never finding the right words. I don’t think I’m ever going to find them at this rate. I’m not sure they exist, and if they do, I’m not confident I’m capable of discovering them. So excuse me as I ramble on a bit. But I…” I make the mistake of glancing up at the captain. His face is impassive, but there’s a twitch in his left eyelid. The words snag in my throat, my heart hammering out of my chest, but I force myself to fish them out. “I want you.”

Astor looks as if I’ve slapped him in the face, causing my panic to rise. So I fist my hands at my sides and close my eyes. “I know I’m not supposed to. I know I’m supposed to hate you. I’m supposed to love Peter, but I don’t. I thought I did. But I think I just liked being wanted. I think I liked how it felt to feel nothing, to leave my pain behind. But you…you hurt me, sometimes. It hurts to love you, because I have to turn inward. Examine myself. Make choices. You know how much I hate to choose. But if I got to choose, I’d choose you. So I suppose I’m asking you to choose me back. To love me. I know you loved Iaso, that you still do. And I know I’ll never replace her. I don’t want to. You have to know that. But just…want me back. Please. Because I keep dreaming that you tell me you want me, and when I wake up, I keep chasing the dream, trying to go back to sleep so it can be true just a little while longer.”

“Wendy, I—”

“Please. Just let me finish,” I say. I spent all night working myself up to say this, but my boldness has a finite limit, and I’m afraid if I stop now, I’ll be too depleted to try again. “I know I’mnot her. But I’m me, and that can’t be so awful, can it? I see the way you want me.” My face flushes with heat, the forwardness of what I’m about to say stoking coals in my chest. “I’ve noticed, you know. You tease me for never speaking my mind, but it’s not entirely an impairment. It allows me to watch, observe. And I’ve noticed. You find ways to touch me when you don’t have to. Astor, you remember the little details—you remembered how much I hate the feel of velvet. No one remembers that about me. And that night in the crow’s nest—”

“Darling, I don’t—”

“No.” I hold up my palm, then crinkle my fingers because even that motion feels unnaturally forceful. I end up with a fist full of salty air. “You can deny it all you want. It hurts you; do you think I don’t know that? Wanting me, of all people—I’m sure it feels like you’re betraying her. But I’m begging you, Astor. Please. Let it go.” I stop, taking in a sharp inhale. Make myself look him in those piercing green eyes. Prepare myself for what might be the most selfish thing I’ll ever say. No, not selfish—true. “It wasn’t my fault.” Astor blinks, and I’m shocked by my relief at that one little phrase. “Hate my parents if you want, for what they did to her. But I’m done excusing you for holding that against me. I did nothing wrong. And forgive me if this is unpleasantly forward, but you’re torturing yourself. For no reason at all. You’d rather deprive yourself of joy than release the chokehold you keep on your hatred. But don’t you see? You don’t have to stop loving her to love me. You don’t have to betray her to love me. I’m not the one who took her from you. So please. Let it go. Let it go, if not for me, then for yourself.”

Astor swallows. It feels like minutes pass before he responds, his jaw working like he keeps tasting the words, and they all come back bitter. Finally, he settles on, “You love Peter.”

I exhale. “We both know that I don’t.”

“Darling,” he says, his voice betraying no emotion. Not that I can detect, at least. “Don’t I remember us having a similar conversation back in the cave? One in which you informed me that you and Peter were a thing of the past? It was the night you tried to escape Neverland and requested my assistance. You were so sure Peter was your villain. Remember what I told you then?”

I do. He told me Peter would get his claws in me again, then Astor and I could return to our normal banter. But I refuse to play this game. “This isn’t the same. This isn’t a case of Peter disappointing me and me running to you. This is me choosing you.”

“Well, don’t.”

His words sting, burrowing in my ear. When he glimpses the tears in my eyes, his expression softens. “I’m sorry, Darling,” he says. “But I know what love feels like, and this isn’t it.”

I reach for the fabric of my pants, wishing I had something else for my hands to do. Something to distract me from the pain gnawing my chest wide open. “I know it’s going to be different than what you and Iaso had, but…” I tug at the strands of hair at the nape of my neck, realizing how presumptuous that sounds.

“Wendy,” he says, and the regret in his expression breaks me more than his use of my given name. “This,” he says, brushing his finger over my cheek, over my Mark. “This plays tricks on us. It’s not real.”

I slap his hand away, the sting of my blow leaving a flaming imprint across his hand. “Then don’ttouchme.”

He blinks, shocked at my outburst.

“You heard me,” I say. “If you don’t love me, don’t touch me. If you don’t love me, then don’t find ways to brush your hand up against mine.” I wipe my hands on my trousers, like I can cleanse myself of his phantom touch. “If you don’t love me, then when we’re in a crowd, don’t address me like I’m the only oneyou’re talking to. If you don’t love me… Well, then go back to acting like it.”

Shame washes over his face, and he tucks his hands back into his pockets. He opens his mouth, shuts it, then opens it again. When he speaks, he sounds like an adult scolding a child he’s quite fond of. “You’ll see. When we get to the cave and perform the ceremony. You’ll be glad it isn’t real.”

I shouldn’t—it strips me of the last bit of dignity I have left, but I offer him a small smile. I can’t seem to help myself; I want so badly to smile for Nolan Astor. “No, Nolan,” I correct. “It isn’t real for you.”

Charlie comesto check on me later that evening. If I were a stronger woman, I’d be making better use of my time. As it is, I’ve spent the afternoon curled up in bed. Had my hands not been trembling after my humiliating conversation with Astor, I might have climbed into the nearest crow’s nest, but the energy it would have taken to do that safely has left me.

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