So she cleaned up the house, then herself, and shored up her mental barriers, severing the tentative connection they’d forged. If he wanted to go out, she was not about to give in to the impulse to psychically track him around the islands, as tempting as it was.
Donning her usual outfit of leggings, t-shirt, windbreaker, and boots, Clementine quickly checked that the weather was still clear before she left the house, determined to take her normal hike up the slope.
The wind was biting as it swept up and around the triangular face of Demon’s Tooth, but the day was bright and beautiful. Above her, seabirds coasted on air currents, their minds a background buzz, and in the distance a pod of seals continued to bark over the crash of waves over the jagged rocks.
She’d begun her ritual of hiking the slope during her first week on the island, when she’d begun to feel cooped up in her new, featureless home. It didn’t matter how many times she’d made the climb, Clementine always found herself huffing and puffing about halfway through.
She’d grown up in some of the most remote places in the UTA, so she’d spent half her life hiking trails, camping in dark woods, and breathing cold, crisp air. Walking the slope wasn’t quite the same, but it still inspired the familiar awe of nature as she beheld the frothing Pacific waters all around her. The exercise also helped center her, which was an essential part of keeping her mind intact.
That day, the hike helped restore a little bit of her emotional equilibrium. Clementine tried to set aside her disappointment in favor of untangling her other feelings. Her steps were slow and deliberate, each footfall carefully planned on the brittle rockface liberally sprinkled with pale grass. With each crunch of her bootheel, she picked through the events of the previous day.
By the time she reached the peak, where the dilapidated ruins of the humble lighthouse once stood, she’d come to a number of conclusions.
Leaning up against the seabird dropping-speckled façade, she thought,I like Emory. A lot. He’s sweet, funny, a little scary, and… we’re the same.
It was more thanliking,but that was the only word she had for the bigger-than-her, bubbly, breathtaking connection that fizzled inside her whenever thought of him. It was a tiny word for something so very monumental.
She didn’t want to give that up just because she didn’t know all the rules to being in a relationship with a merman or because she was scared.Nelly was right. I should do what’s right for mewhenit’s right for me.
Seeing what she could have with the first man who made her feeleverythingwas right for her at that moment, so she was going to do it even if it turned out Emory wasn’t the person she wanted to spend her life with. It was the right time for her to explore romance and sexuality. If it turned out to be more than that, she would be delighted, but she wasn’t going to psych herself out by deciding on forever after a day.
She’d shied away from thinking about bonding practically her entire life. Clementine sure as shit wasn’t about to rush into itnow.
But even as she thought it, the words rang hollow. That brought her to her second conclusion:If Emory is actually sticking around, then I might get to stay here. I might have a friend for life.
She sucked in a deep breath of the cold, salty air. Leaning her shoulder against the old, pockmarked concrete of the lighthouse’s base, her gaze wandered across the white-capped waves swirling around the rocky edges of the shore. If she craned her neck, she could just make out a bit of the Great Arch from where she stood on the cracked platform, as well as the massive fogbank on its way to steal the glorious sunny day.
I could live here.Her eyes traveled away from the arch, away from where she suspected her merman had gone, and up to the lighthouse itself. A deep pang of grief for a man she would never know struck her.I could live here like you. Raise kids here like you. I could even love your son.
Her hands, chilled by the wind, slid into the pockets of her windbreaker. Warm glass met her fingertips.
A smile tugged at her lips as she pulled the tiny orca figurine from her pocket.
Had Emory ever gotten the chance to see his father’s lighthouse before it fell into disrepair? Her heart ached again as she rubbed the smooth glass body of the figurine with the pad of her thumb. She’d been amazed by how well he moved on land, but a hike like the one required to reach the lighthouse was a lot for anyone, let alone someone with a tail.
“Well, just in case he never made it up here…” she whispered, crouching low to set the figurine down against the base of the lighthouse. A few pieces of loose concrete were placed beside it, hopefully sheltering the figurine from the gusts that tore at the island. Dusting her hands, she said, “There. Your own little cove.”
With the fog moving in and her heart more settled, Clementine turned to hop off the platform and make her way back down the slope. She was nearly at the beach before she spotted the dark blade of a fin cutting through the water.
* * *
She opened the door to the moon pool room so forcefully, it smacked against the wall. Clementine didn’t care. She stood in the doorway, chest heaving from her swift jog down the beach and through the house, and stared at the man perched on the edge of the pool. Emory’s long hair had been bound into a coil at the base of his skull, giving her an unobstructed view of his shoulders as he twisted his body to greet her.
“My Clementine!” A massive, sharp-toothed grin creased his cheeks. “You look windswept. Did you go for your walk?”
Her disappointment and hurt melted away.
Words almost refused to manifest themselves on her tongue. Her heartbeat thundered in her ears and the relief of seeing him again, soaking in his smile and the way he said her name, left her feeling oddly dizzy.
Gripping the door frame for support, she managed to rasp, “Yes. I went up to the lighthouse. I— Where didyougo?”
Emory swiveled from side to side to gesture proudly around him. She was startled to realize that she’d been so focused on looking at him that she didn’t even notice the waterproof bags thrown across the floor. There were four of them, each one almost as large as she was, which really made her question her observational skills.
“I was getting my important things,” he answered, offering another one of his dazzling, rakish grins.
It took a while for what he was really saying to sink in. When it did, an incredulous laugh bubbled out before she could even think to stop it. “This is your stuff? You’re movingin?”
Emory turned to brace his palms on the rubbery floor and haul the rest of his tail out of the pool. Only then did she notice how he’d secured the heavy coil of his hair.
