“Actually, no.” I smooth a hand over his brow. “Almost the opposite. You’ve become something of a local celebrity.”
Confusion flickers across his face. “I don’t understand.”
“The makes two of us. But apparently saving people from a capsizing ship trumps centuries of monster-hunting tradition.” I stroke his tentacle, feeling it pulse gently beneath my touch. “How’s the pain?”
“Manageable.”
“Liar.” I reach for the medicine Dr. Rivera left. “She said to take this when you woke up.”
He accepts the medicine without protest, which tells me just how much he must be hurting. After swallowing it, he reaches out and captures my hand with his own, his clawed fingers wrapping gently around mine. “You stayed.”
“Of course I stayed. Where else would I be?”
His eyes, ancient and tired, study my face. “I thought… It might be too much. Having our secret out.”
“Let the town know.” I lift his hand to my lips, pressing a kiss to his smooth skin. “I’m not exactly hiding my bedside vigil here.”
A ghost of a smile touches his lips before his eyes drift closed again. “Rest… Just need rest.”
“Sleep,” I whisper. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”
Thenextthreedaysfall into a rhythm of caring for Roark, fielding visitors, and trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy.
Dr. Rivera visits twice daily, checking his wounds and adjusting his medications. Iris flits in and out, bringing news from town and helping me manage the steady stream of well-wishers.
To my continued amazement, many townspeople stop by with gifts—fresh seafood, handmade cards, even a ridiculous stuffed octopus toy from the boardwalk gift shop. I accept each offering with bewildered gratitude, placing the cards where Roark can see them when he’s awake, which becomes more frequent as his strength returns.
By the fourth day, word has spread far beyond Cape Tempest. Marina shows me videos of the rescue on her phone—footage taken by tourists showing Roark’s dramatic transformation and the daring rescue of the sailors. The clips have millions of views, and the comments range from awestruck to supportive.
“You’re Internet famous,” I tell Roark, who’s now able to sit up and eat on his own.
He peers at the tiny screen, his tentacles curling with interest. “So strange to see myself through human eyes.”
“According to these comments, those eyes find you pretty impressive.” I scroll through the feed. “‘Total badass.’ ‘Absolute unit.’ Oh, and my personal favorite: ‘Tentacle daddy can rescue me anytime.’”
Roark chokes on his soup. “What does that even mean?”
“Trust me, you don’t want to know.” I set the phone aside, grinning at his bewildered expression. “How are you feeling today?”
“Stronger.” He shifts, demonstrating by lifting himself higher against the pillows. “The pain is less. Dr. Rivera says I’m healing faster than expected.”
“That’s good.” I take the empty soup bowl. “You had me worried there for a while.”
His hand reaches for mine, his fingers wrapping around it with gentle pressure. “I’m sorry for frightening you.”
“Don’t apologize for saving lives, Roark.” I sit beside him on the bed. “You did good. And you’ve got quite the fan club now because of it.” I pause before adding, “The Mayor stopped by earlier too. The town council wants to recognize you as the official guardian of Cape Tempest’s waters.”
He blinks before saying softly, “How unexpected. I’ve spent so long hiding… I don’t quite know what to make of everyone’s acceptance.”
“Me neither.” I rest my head on his shoulder. “I kept this lighthouse because I wanted solitude. Now I’m harboring the town’s newest celebrity.”
His rumbling laugh vibrates through me. “Hardly a celebrity.”
“Tell that to your fan club. Iris says there’s a group who hangs out by the pier hoping to catch a glimpse of you.”
His tentacles curl with embarrassment, making me laugh. We lapse into comfortable silence, watching the afternoon light play across the water outside the window.
“What happens now?” I finally ask.
