Page 28 of She Who Was Once the Sea

But something made me turn the other way. Maybe it was shame, maybe it was doubt. Either way, I didn’t want my family to see me like this, whole and awake while the rest of them still lay trapped within the stonework.

I made a sharp right out of the square, walking down a tight side street lined with trees covered in small, twinkling lights. Against the walls on either side of the street was a series of metal tables and chairs, each one occupied by pairs of happy-looking humans; couples and friends and business partners laughed and talked and blew smoke from cigarettes into the shared space surrounding them, and I wondered, just for a moment, what it might be like to be one of them. Should this work, if I were to succeed and free myself and my family from the curse, could I be one of the smiling people drinking wine and nibbling on bites of hard cheese and cured meat?

For a flash of a second, I saw it clearly—saw myself sitting at one of those little tables, pouring crimson liquid into a glass and laughing at something my companion said. And across from me, I saw Garrett, blue eyes dancing in the low light, blond hair falling across his forehead for a moment before he pushed it away with one hand, smile open and wide, hiding nothing but containing the whole world.

The image was enough to stop me in my tracks.

There, under a strand of twinkling lights and surrounded by the pounding sound of blood pumping through veins, I had to pause and inhale a deep, slow breath. Regardless of my intentions, it would have been foolish to allow myself to fantasize about a life that would never come to fruition. If I were able to accomplish my task, if I were able to convince him to love me in the time allowed by the Witch, then I would join my family and return to the sea. Rossaia was lost centuries before. There would be no reason for us to remain once we were no longer trapped within its walls.

And humans, for all of their miraculous qualities, could not breathe underwater.

"Are you okay?"

The question came from nowhere, the voice nearly enough to make me jump. When I turned to face its source, I found myself eye-to-eye with a set of wide blue eyes, like I’d conjured them into being.

How was it that he always seemed to appear exactly where and when I needed him?

Garrett’s face was pulled into a deep frown, the lines on his forehead etched with worry. He reached out a hand towards my elbow, stopping just before making contact, as if deciding whether touching me was a good idea.

When he finally did, I felt that familiar surge of electricity again.

I shook my head, and it was only then that I felt the cool dampness on my cheeks. I’d been crying.

"What’s wrong?" he repeated, lower this time, casting a furtive glance over his shoulder at the people sitting around us. Slowly, and so lightly that I barely registered it at all, he let his fingers travel from my elbow to my lower back, his hand guiding me forward with all the gentleness of a feather on the breeze.

The effect was instantaneous, ripples of kinetic energy spread out from that singular spot like a pebble thrown into still water.

How long had it been since I’d been touched with any form of tenderness?

He directed me away from the prying eyes of the late-night diners, turning left at the end of the street and pulling us into another back alley. Once we were out of sight, his hand dropped from me like a rock, leaving an icy patch behind.

When I turned to face him, I realized that he wasn’t wearing his Fratelli uniform, and I felt my mouth go dry. He wore dark blue jeans and a simple white short-sleeved shirt. It was just tight enough that the muscles in his shoulders and chest pulled at the fabric as he stared at me with his arms crossed.

I had to force myself to look away.

He was still frowning. "What’s wrong?" He repeated the question. "Why were you standing in the middle of the sidewalk staring into space?"

I felt my eyes dart back and forth between his, searching for an answer that wouldn’t reveal the vision that had flashed, unbidden, through my imagination.

"I’m… thirsty," I answered, deciding that this version of the truth was better.

His brow furrowed. "I showed you how to use the taps. Are they not working?"

I shook my head. "No," I said, barely above a whisper. "I’m thirsty." I let my eyes settle on his and raised an eyebrow. "I was on my way to find… something to drink."

That sounded far better than saying I was looking for someone to drink.

Nevertheless, his face fell, and there was something about the obvious revulsion displayed upon it that nearly caused my tears to start flowing again.

"And you were going to grab one of those people?" His voice was nothing but sharp edges.

"No," I snapped. "I was just… I got distracted. The food smelled good, that’s all."

It was a stupid lie, but one he seemed to believe anyway.

He uncrossed his arms and placed his hands in his pockets. "You eat normal food?"

I shrugged. "I can. It hasn’t been appetizing in a long time. But I’m able to consume it, yes."