Book 13: Regrets

Brie

I can’t be your friend.

I lean my forehead against the railing, closing my eyes as I dangle my legs through the rails. What feels like fathoms below me, the ocean stretches toward the milky light of the last minutes of what had been the most spectacular sunset I’d ever seen in my life. Stars flicker into view overhead, nestled against a blanket of deep orange and crimson, and behind me, I listen to Sawyer and Logan pouring over a map spread out on a table bolted to the floor just beside the helm–the massive wheel used to steer a ship only a pirate would have.

Logan doesn’t want to believe we have, in fact, been thrust through time and now sail the open seas in the company of pirates. In his rational defense, I haven’t seen a single person with a peg leg, a parrot, or an eye-patch, so he’s probably right.

It’s a fun thought, though. I kick my legs, my bare toes chilled by the wind whipping into the sails as we practically fly over the wat