Iron Seas 03 - Riveted

wouldn’t matter—and she’d never seen any indication that he did. He’d told her that wasn’t what he wanted. And the night before, when she’d moved in close to sniff his neck, he’d only stood rigidly, then turned away from her.
    She didn’t want to spend her life hoping, longing, waiting for his feelings to change. She didn’t want to end up heartbroken as her mother had, the person she loved within reach, yet still alone.
    Then again, her mother wasn’t alone any longer—and Annika imagined that her happiness now patched over the years of hurt.
    She didn’t want to return home and wait to die.
    She didn’t know what to do. Each option rolled itself over again and again, hope and dread filling her in turns. Her mind roiled about, refusing to rest, and she was exhausted when the forenoon watch ended. David wasn’t waiting for her outside the engine room, as she’d half expected; Annika tried not to feel disappointment. He was probably allowing her to come to him in her own time rather than pushing her to make a decision. She could appreciate that.
    She also wanted her decision to be important enough to him that he couldn’t help but push.
    Hearts were silly things.
    She couldn’t seek him out yet, however. The first engineer’s endless duties called, and the warmers needed to be checked again now that the sun was up and heating the surface of the balloon. She climbed the ladder to the main deck, wishing that the engine wasn’t so loud. He could be nearby, and she wouldn’t hear him.
    Oh, but she didn’t need to.
    He stood so tall. And next to the first mate, his shoulders appeared twice as broad. How could she possibly not see him?
    Like the aviators on deck, he wore a knitted wool cap lined with fur and with flaps to protect his ears. His gaze caught hers as she came out of the companionway, and her breath seemed to stop. Annika wondered if he heard anything that Mr. James was saying to him. She couldn’t hear anything at all—not the thrum of the engine or the rush of icy wind. Only the pounding of her own heart.
    She made her way across the deck. Before she could say a word of greeting, Mr. James asked, “So you’re awake, eh?”
    “I—” Annika stopped, utterly confused. Was she not supposed to be awake? Had someone said she wasn’t? “Yes. I’m just coming off watch.”
    Standing beside James, David averted his face, seemed to stifle a laugh.
    “As am I,” James said. “Are you taking lunch, Mr. Kentewess?”
    “When Miss Fridasdottor does.”
    “So it’s like that?” James nodded, smiling. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”
    Annika waited until he was out of earshot, then turned to David. “Do you see? Why would he ask that? What am I supposed to say?”
    David grinned. “Yes. Though I’ll ask something else he did: Are you taking lunch soon?”
    “I have to check the balloon pressure first.” She reached into her belt for two of the candies she’d found at Valdís’s store and started for the warmers. “This will hold you until we eat.”
    He took the candy, and she popped one into her mouth, relishing the smooth, creamy texture. He only looked down at his with an odd expression. Not longing, exactly, but a degree of wistful sadness.
    “You don’t like butters?”
    “I do, but don’t eat them.” His thumbs rubbed over the twisted ends of the paper. “My father designed the machine that wraps these.”
    “He did?”
    “A commissioned job, shortly before we moved to the mountain builders’ city. We visited the manufactory one day, and I ate dozens. My mother laughed at me and told me to stop, that I’d make myself sick. I didn’t.” He looked up, and she realized that expression hadn’t been sadness, but the sweetness of a memory held painfully tight. “I don’t want to eat one and discover they weren’t as good as I remember.”
    “They are.”
    His gaze fell to her mouth. “Perhaps I’ll try again.”
    Sudden need screwed deep, a coiling ache that tightened her skin. He could taste her. Lips open, tongue seeking the sweet flavor…and she would discover if his kiss would be as good as she hoped.
    But he apparently didn’t mean to taste anything now. He looked away and tucked the butter candy into his pocket. Turning to hide her distress, Annika stared at the balloon’s gauge. The pressure was within limits. She fiddled with a valve. Anything to delay speaking with him again while her throat felt as if a sharp rock had been shoved down