Page 14 of A Reckless Indulgence

“Because he went after the crew!” Cav’s facade falls away as he leans forward in his seat. “You were right; he did try to drug some of the girls the other night. I couldn’t sit there while he sailed off and got away with it. Someone had to stop him!”

“Someone would have.”

“Not fast enough.”

“Not publicly.” Heathen’s voice lowers between her teeth. “Colt was already on the Silver Spoon waiting in the bathroom. He was going to deal with Roderick quietly, but instead, the entirety of the ship got a front row seat to your performance.”

Cav flinches. It’s like he’s back in school, reprimanded with the dull thwack of a ruler. Of course there was a tail on Roderick. Of course Heathen had a plan for him. Why the fuck hadn’t that thought occurred to Cav?

He sinks lower in his chair, but there’s no escaping this. Goddamn his restless brain and how it itches with ideas until he scratches them. “I didn’t want him to hurt anyone else.”

Heathen flattens their palms to ease the tension from their body. “You don’t hunt down bad actors anymore, Cav. That’s not your job.”

“It used to be.”

“Yes: used to.”

The reminder stings like saltwater in his eyes. He knows Heathen’s right, but sometimes, Cav lets himself forget that things have changed. That he can’t do all the things he used to. That he’s not living the same life he was before.

Morning duties begin outside Heathen’s quarters. She glances toward the sound before her tone softens a fraction. “What’s going on with you? The past few weeks, you’ve been more…erratic than usual.”

She tries not to make the word sound like an insult, but Cav knows better. His spontaneity makes her skin crawl. The two of them may see the same big picture, but their methodology is completely different. While Heathen sketches a detailed outline, Cav is already splashing paint across the canvas.

He gives a halfhearted shrug. Outside, metal pots clang above the din of the crew. It’s a stark contrast to the silence that drags on in Heathen’s office. She’s deep in thought, fingers steepled on her desk. Cav’s foot begins to bounce. Only once the quiet starts to chafe does Heathen finally speak.

“You have to find something to guide you besides your whims.” As a peace offering, Heathen takes the mug of coffee and settles it closer to her. “You can’t dive headfirst into everything and damn the consequences. You need purpose. You need an outlet. You need something.”

Cav tugs at a loose thread on the chair. Maybe it’ll unravel as easily as he does. Maybe it’ll explain why he can’t keep things together like Heathen and Cypher can. Maybe it’ll help him understand why, no matter how much he cares for the people on this ship, he always feels restless and aimless.

Heathen stares at the fraying fabric. “Stop picking at it.”

Cav releases the thread and fights the twitch of his fingers.

Heathen nods. “Now, tell me what you’re thinking.”

With a sigh, he scrubs a hand down his face. “I don’t know. It’s like I’m…some alley cat you brought inside. I’m clawing up the curtains, knocking over glasses, fucking everything up.”

Reckless. Impetuous. Impulsive. He’s heard all the descriptors before, but these days, it’s getting worse. It’s like he’s spinning in a circle, desperate for the momentum to carry him toward something that will hold his attention.

“Working on the convoy was so different,” he tries. “When I was a guardian, I got my hands dirty. I did the physical labor. I got rid of the people causing problems. I had an impact, but on the Indulgence, I’m just…here.” He turns his hands up helplessly. “Everything is routine. It’s…”

Boring.

He doesn’t say the word aloud, but from Heathen’s pursed lips, it’s clear she hears it. “Regularity is a sign of things functioning as they should be.”

“I don’t want things to go wrong.” He tips his head back toward the ceiling. How can he express it? “Everything’s restricted nowadays. We visit the same ports, keep pleasure ‘recreation’ to the cabins, offer only the most basic services…” His fingers flit to the loose thread again, but he grips the arm of the chair instead. “I’m just saying, it’s gotten stale.”

Heathen’s brow quirks. Cav knows he shouldn’t speak so freely, but she asked.

“And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that things locked down after Prodeus took off with the convoy.”

Heathen bristles. Even years later, the former co-commander is a sore subject. Cav can’t blame her. He served on the guardian ship hired to escort the Indulgence from port to port. On the last night the two ships were together, Heathen and Prodeus argued until the wooden walls couldn’t contain it. Rumors ran wild. Heathen denied him a larger stake in the business. She refused him a bigger crew. She spurned his sexual advances. It always came back to what Prodeus felt he was owed.

Maybe Cav should have seen the signs. On the final morning, Prodeus was uncharacteristically cheery, clapping Cav on the back when he disembarked to make some trades. By the time Cav returned to the docks, Prodeus had sailed away with the guardian ship and its crew, leaving Heathen and the rest of the Indulgence to fend for themselves.

Somehow, they made it work. Cav joined the Indulgence. They cut out visits to the most lucrative ports, limiting their routes to the safest waters. Heathen laid out strict new rules for the pleasure ship to follow and removed any opportunity for surprises.

Funny how the person who cornered the market on pleasure can be so clinical. It’s as if Heathen thinks loosening their grip will send the Indulgence crashing straight into the rocks.