New York loomed on the horizon, a jagged silhouette against the glow of the late afternoon sky. Olivia stood at the railing, her heart racing as she watched the city come into view. This was it—the end of her journey, the culmination of all her hopes and dreams.

So why did she feel so hollow?

She should be elated. Giddy with anticipation at the thought of seeing Dash again. Of finally confessing her love, of hopefully securing the future she'd always wanted. But instead, all she could think about was Adrian.

Adrian, and the way he'd touched her last night. The way he'd worshipped her body. The reverent way in which he'd held her afterwards. And the way he'd pulled back, his expression pained in a way that made her ache for him.

'I can't be your second choice, Olivia. I won't be a consolation prize.'

She understood why he had stopped. Why he'd refused to take that final, irrevocable step and claim her. He was protecting himself, guarding his heart against possible heartbreak.

Just like she was.

As much as she cared for Adrian, as much as her body sang at his touch...what she felt for him terrified her. It was too big, too intense, too consuming. With Dash, things were simpler. Safer. The love she'd harboured for him all these years was like a comfortable coat, well-worn and familiar. And even if he ended up not reciprocating her feelings, she suspected she would be fine.

Sure, it would sting. But it wouldn't destroy her. Not anymore.

With Adrian...her feelings were unpredictable like wildfire, threatening to burn her to cinders if she wasn't careful.

And she wasn't sure she was ready for that.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She startled, turning to find Tom standing beside her, his red hair ruffled by the breeze. Her pulse raced, remembering the last time she'd seen him—when he'd been at the door to Adrian's cabin after Turner's attack, and had seen her in nothing but a towel and Adrian's coat.

"Tom, I..." She trailed off, unsure of how to explain her deception or apologise for lying to him. "I'm sorry. I know I deceived everyone onboard, and you've been nothing but kind to me, and—"

"It's all right, Oliver." Tom smiled gently, shaking his head. "No need for apologies. I'm sure you had your reasons, and frankly, they're none of my business."

Her eyes burned at his simple reasoning. There were no hard feelings. No threats. Nothing like Mr Turner the previous night.

"Th...thank you, Tom."

He reached out and patted her hand awkwardly. "I can't imagine it's easy, being a lady in a world that doesn't always make it easy to be one. If anything, I admire your courage. Not just anyone would have the guts to board a ship dressed as a boy."

A bitter laugh bubbled up in her throat. "I don't feel very brave right now," she admitted. "I feel...lost. Confused."

"That's normal, I reckon. When you're standing on the edge of something new. Something big." He nodded towards New York, obviously not quite knowing what she was worried about, but she appreciated the sentiment, nonetheless. "But if there's one thing I've learned in my years at sea...it's that you've got to follow your gut. Even when it scares you. Especially when it scares you."

Her breath caught, his words hitting too close to home.

"And if my gut is as confused as I am?" she asked wryly, her gaze dropping to the churning waves below.

"Then you take a leap of faith." Tom smiled, squeezing her hand. "And trust that you will land on your feet. You're strong, Oliver. Braver than most men I've met. Whatever choice you make, I know it will be the right one for you."

She wasn't so sure. Blinking back tears, she turned to face him fully.

"Thank you, Tom," she whispered. "For being so understanding and for being my friend, even after everything."

He grinned, his freckled face splitting. "Anytime, Oliver. You want to rejoin the ship again in the future—in a skirt or not—you'll have my vote."

She laughed, and for a moment she felt a little lighter, a little less worried about the future. But she knew the respite was temporary. The tough choices and conflicting emotions weren't going anywhere.

As the afternoon wore on and the crew rushed to prepare for their arrival in port, she made her way to Adrian's cabin—her home for the past weeks. It was time to pack the few belongings she'd brought along. The scent of Adrian still lingered in the air, a mix of salt and spice. Everywhere she looked, memories assailed her. The chessboard where they'd played countless games, the desk where he'd poured over his maps and charts, the narrow bed where they'd...

Her cheeks flushed, and her body heated at the thought. She could still feel the ghost of his touch on her skin, the rasp of his stubble against her inner thigh. Could still remember the way he'd looked at her, his eyes dark with a hunger that had nothing to do with food. A hunger she shared.

Shaking her head, she forced herself to focus on her task. She couldn't think about that now. Couldn't let herself get lost in the memory of his hands, his mouth, the way he'd made her call out his name. She had to be strong. Remember why she was here, what she'd risked everything for.

Dash. She was here for Dash.

Wasn't she?

The sound of the door opening startled her from her thoughts. With her heart in her throat, somehow scared that Turner had returned, she found Adrian standing in the doorway, his face unreadable.

"Captain," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "I was just...packing."

"I hate when you call me captain," he muttered, so quietly she wasn't sure she was meant to have heard him. His gaze swept over the scattered clothing and belongings laid out on the bed with her satchel.

Silence stretched between them. Her fingers twisted in the hem of her shirt.

"Olivia, I..." Adrian started, then stopped, hesitating. "About last night."

Her breath caught in her throat. "Yes?"

Taking a step towards her, his hands flexed at his sides. "I was wrong."

"About what?" There was a lump in her throat and part of her wanted to dash for the door, flee the room and this difficult conversation, while another part desperately wanted to hear what he had to say.

His gaze held hers. "I was trying to protect myself, but the truth is..." He groaned. "Bloody hell. This is hard. The truth is, Olivia...I'd rather be your second choice than nothing at all. I'd rather fight for a chance at your love, of a future with you, than wonder 'what if' for the rest of my life."

"I..." It was difficult to think over the pulse thundering in her ears. "Adrian, what are you saying?"

"I'm saying that I—"

A sharp knock at the door cut him off, and he cursed loudly. Tom poked his head in, a wild look in his wide eyes.

"Captain!" he said, his voice sounding slightly winded, like he'd just been running. "Sorry to interrupt, but it's Turner. He's in a fistfight with Hawkins. You had better come."

Adrian's jaw tightened, and his eyes flashed. He glanced back at Olivia, a wealth of emotion in his gaze.

"We'll talk later," he promised. "Don't go anywhere."

And then he was gone, striding out of the cabin with Tom at his heels. Olivia stared after him, her mind reeling.

What had he been about to say? Had he been about to confess his feelings before Tom's interruption?

Fear clawed at her throat and her heart hammered against her ribs. She wasn't ready for this. Wasn't ready to face the depth of his feelings. The intensity of her own. It was too much. Too soon. Too...real.

She had to get out of there. Put some distance between herself and Adrian before she did something foolish. Something she couldn't take back.

Like fall in love with him.

Stuffing her belongings into the satchel, she slipped out of the cabin, her steps quick and quiet on the wooden boards. The deck was in chaos, with sailors shouting and running back and forth as they prepared to disembark. Amid it all, she glimpsed Adrian, his face thunderous as he stood between a red-faced Mr Turner and Hawkins.

Turning away from the sight, worried she might change her mind if he saw her, she pushed through the throng of bodies towards the gangplank. Fear and panic fuelled her steps. She wasn't here for Adrian. She had come here for Dash. Dash was safe. Known.

She had to get away. Put some distance between herself and the man who'd turned her world upside down. It was the only way to protect herself, to cling to the tattered remains of her long-held dreams. Her hand trembled as she clutched her bag, tears burning at the back of her eyes. She refused to let them fall, blinking furiously as she hurried down the gangplank. Better to leave now, before she was in too deep. Before there was no turning back.

Even as the thought formed, a small voice whispered that it might already be too late. That the ache in her chest, the hollowness in her gut, was a sign that she was making a terrible mistake.

No. Dash. She was here for Dash.

Her steps faltered, her resolve wavering. For a moment, she was tempted to turn back. To run to Adrian and tell him...what? That she was sorry? Scared? That she thought she might be falling in love with him, despite her every effort not to?

But the moment passed, her fear winning out over her heart. With a shaky breath, she squared her shoulders and plunged into the crowded streets of New York, letting the noise and chaos swallow her whole.

She didn't look back. Didn't allow herself to think about the man she left behind. Tears blurred her vision as she ran, the satchel thumping against her side. She was a coward; she knew it. Running away from the best thing that had ever happened to her. The one man who made her feel truly seen. Truly cherished.

But she couldn't turn back. The fear was too deep, the panic too strong. She had to see this through and give herself a chance with Dash like she had longed to for so long.

It was only when she reached her sister-in-law's address, her hand poised to knock, that she stopped to think. A flash of regret, of longing, pierced through the haze of her tumultuous thoughts.

Was she making a mistake?

It didn't matter. It was too late now. Adrian would never forgive her for running away. He'd been ready to pour his heart out to her. Had asked her to stay and wait for him...and she'd run away. In a split moment's decision, she had chosen the safety of her old infatuation with Dash, and in doing so, she had done to Adrian exactly what he had feared. She had chosen someone else over him.

A sob rose from her throat and she quickly clasped her hands over her mouth to stifle it, but she couldn't stop the tears from pouring down her cheeks.

She had no right to cry. She'd made her choice. For better or worse.

A choice for a life without Adrian.

Without the fire and passion he'd awakened in her.

A life that already felt colder and emptier for his absence.

"Excuse me? Can I help you?"

She turned around at the question. It had been many years since she'd seen her brother's widow, but she still recognised the kind face and golden hair of the woman coming up the stairs to the house. A boy of maybe twelve trailed behind her, and he looked so much like her late brother Jeremy that she broke into even more tears.

"What's wrong, boy?" Winnie, her sister-in-law, asked. "Why are you—"

The woman's eyes widened as she got a better look at her face.

"Olivia?"

~~~~~~