The rest of the crew appeared to be as shocked as West was. They looked between both of them, no one sure what to say.

It was Hamish who finally stepped forward, clearing his throat. “We have enough coin to replace the anchor and get back to the Narrows. We’ll have to stop off at the coral islands to top off our ledgers.”

“Fine,” West answered. He turned toward the window, making it clear they were dismissed.

They filed out one after the other, feet shuffling into the breezeway. Willa looked back over her shoulder before she followed them.

“West.” I waited for him to look at me. When he didn’t, I leaned into him, setting my head on his shoulder. He pressed his lips to the top of my head and pulled in a deep breath.

We stood there like that for another moment before I left him alone. I took the steps belowdecks at the end of the passageway; the lantern in the crew’s cabin was lit, filling the crack in the door with light. I followed it, peering through the opening.

Willa was standing in front of her trunk with her dagger in her hands. She turned it slowly so that the gems caught the light.

I pushed the door open and sat in my hammock, letting my feet swing over the floor.

“I know,” she said unevenly. “I shouldn’t have done it like that.”

“You were angry.”

“It was still wrong.”

She set her tool belt inside the trunk and closed it before she sat on the lid, facing me. “I know this is awful, but I think part of me was glad when all this happened.” She closed her eyes. “Like I finally had a good reason.”

I understood what she meant. She’d been dreading telling West that she was leaving and when he went against the crew, she felt justified.

“I’m the one who’s selfish,” she whispered.

I kicked her gently in the knee with my foot. “You’re not selfish. You want to make your own life. West will understand that.”

“Maybe.” Willa was afraid. Of losing him. The same way he was afraid of losing her.

“What will you do?” I asked.

She shrugged. “I’ll probably get a job working for a shipwright or a smith. Maybe an apprenticeship.”

“Maybe you’ll build us a ship one day.” I grinned.

That made her smile.

We fell silent, listening to the hum of the sea around the hull. “It will be hard on him,” I said. “To be without you.”

Willa bit down onto her bottom lip, staring into the dark. “I know.”

I scooted to one side of the hammock, holding it open for her. She hesitated before she stood and climbed in beside me.

“You think he’ll forgive me?” she whispered.

I looked at her. “There’s nothing to forgive.”