The Clockmaker and the Pirate - EVERMORE BOOK 1

Chapter 23 -- Atlantic Ocean, 4 August 1650

I don't really sleep that night.

For one, I really can't, since I'm unofficially in charge of steering the ship to Venice. I'm tempted to just leave it, since I suspect that it's probably being sustained by some sort of magic anyway, but I stay awake and behind the wheel, looking at the thousands of stars peppered in the night sky.

I have to only assume that we're going the right direction; the only map that we had on board was the one that helped us to find the Alvarados in the first place. While that map had been especially helpful previously, it's gone through some wear and tear, what with being digested by a sea monster and spending a day or two at the bottom of the ocean.

I look down at Lindsey's compass to ensure that we're still going west, and sure enough, we are.

There's not much to do except check that we're still on course, so that's what I do. Over and over I check to make sure that we're headed in the right direction until my mind begins to run wild.

I imagine Mitch feeling this way. I imagine him being lonely, being hurt, being bored out of his mind, and being desperate to feel any emotion at all. And doomed to live that way for all eternity?

I bite my lip. I want to tell him that he'll never have to be lonely again. I want to comfort him by telling him that he never has to worry about being abandoned, that he never has to be heartbroken. But I can't.

No matter how hard I wish and hope and dream I'll never be able to promise him that.

Not unless we find the Sapphire.

Everyone who cares about him will ultimately grow old and die. Some don't even get to grow old before they die. Some leave him prematurely. I sigh sadly.

I suppose that deep down that's why I want to find it so much. If we find it and use it on Mitch, I can swear to him that he'll never have to be without friend, without comfort, without love.

I physically flinch at the last word and immediately take it back. It's inaccurate for this circumstance and I feel guilty even thinking it. I don't love him. I swear I don't.

Unless...

Unless maybe he loves me?

I slap myself softly on the cheek. No. I have to stop thinking like that. I'm still high on adrenaline and strange energy from the magic, probably. It's pointless to say that the two of us are platonic, because obviously, we're not, but at this point it's just a mindless crush who refuses to go away, like coffee stains on a light colored shirt.

The word "crush" sounds juvenile. But so am I. So are the two of us. Whatever happens between us will flourish and then end too soon, just like everything else. It's inevitable.

But even so, my heart aches when he's sad, my happiness dissolves when he cries, and I can't stand the thought of him ever being lonely. Is that normal for a crush?

I wonder if he's okay now. He didn't seem especially well when I last spoke to him, and he's definitely the kind of person to keep things to himself. Maybe I worry too much, but I still want to see him, just for a second.

The ship will be fine on its own, won't it?

"Scott?" I hear a deep, groggy voice say behind me. I turn around quickly to see Avi, in his dressing gown, with his hair down and knotted and his eyes red. He's limping, and his leg is still covered I that gauze that Lindsey had applied. I'd nearly forgotten about his injury. "Scott, what are you doing? Why are you...?"

"We don't have time to waste," I reply. "Here, can you take the wheel for a moment? I have to go check on Mitch."

"Scott, you can just..."