Page 31 of Swept By The Alien Pirate Prince

The Cyburn I knew and loved would normally say something like, ‘not without me,’ or, ‘can I join you,’ or, ‘you know, two would make a happier shower,’—but this time, his apathy left me scratching my head. I was becoming increasingly bothered by his behavior.

I would have plenty of time to stand under the hot water stewing about it and trying to unravel it thread by thread to figure out how to fix it before it was too late.

* * *

Two daysof watching Cyburn drink, become even more isolated, and wallow in grief had taken an emotional toll on me.

One night, I waited up for him. When he finally returned well into the night, with the foreign silver moon slung high over the sky, I sat up in bed.

“Hi,” I whispered.

Cyburn turned his head in my direction. His eyes widened. He was surprised to see me up at this hour. He had expected me to be fast asleep so he could sneak in, take a shower to wash off the boozy smell from his skin and clothes, then slip into bed beside me undetected. That wasn’t happening tonight.

“What are you doing up?” Cyburn quizzed, pausing in place, standing equal distance between the entrance to the cabin and the bed.

I forced my voice to remain confident and even. “I want to talk to you.”

Cyburn started moving again. His eyes moved off me and stared straight ahead. “About what?” he grumbled.

“About…this.” I threw my arms up in the air, unable to hide or suppress my exasperation and frustration.

Cyburn slowed again and turned his head back toward me. “What isthis?” There was mocking in his tone.

“Us,” I said, trying not to appear afflicted, even though I was, greatly so. My voice was getting hopeless and off track.

“Us?” Cyburn questioned the same thing back to me.

“Yes.” I nodded, willing myself to keep control over the conversation. “You have been avoiding me.”

Cyburn scoffed, but the flicker in his eyes told me he knew I was right.

“I have not,” he said anyway. His expression was sullen and stubborn.

“That’s what it feels like from my perspective.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” There wasn’t even a hint of remorse in the way he spoke the watered down apology.

“What’s going on with you lately?” I asked. “Ever since we arrived on this planet, you have been acting strange, drinking heavily—”

“I have a lot on my mind right now,” Cyburn interjected, his voice raising a notch.

I leaned into the pillow behind my back and nodded, clasping my fingers together. “I understand that. I wish you would talk to me about some of it instead of keeping it all in or drinking to dull the pain.”

“That’s not what I’m doing.”

“Again, that’s what it seems like from my perspective.”

“Is this an interrogation?” Cyburn quizzed, his stare heated.

“No.” I recoiled. “I just want the Cyburn I love to come back.”

The creases in Cyburn’s eyes unsharpened. “I’m not meaning to take my frustrations out on you.” There was concern and authenticity in his tone now.

“I know, that’s why I’m trying to be patient. But I can’t help you if you don’t let me in.”

“It’s not on purpose. I just don’t want you to worry too much.”

“It’s having the opposite effect. I’m worried aboutyou.”

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