Chapter 9“You’re a steel ship,’’ Christophe had said to him, that morning, a long time ago.
Joe remembered his words. He could hear them inside his head.
Yes, he was the mighty steamship, anchored—docked.
It had been three weeks since Christophe had left Linhart prison. And with him, he’d taken the last of Joe’s heat. His blood was cold. His skin was cold. His dreams were turning cold.
Joe had taken to wearing the wool sweater again. He spent his nights waking up from nightmares in which he dreamed he was sleeping alone in a dark cell. Most of the time, he didn’t know if he was awake or asleep. And it didn’t really matter. He missed him. Oh, he missed him more than he could bear. But when Joe shivered, when the cold made him grit his teeth, he smiled a little, knowing that Christophe w
