He needed space. Some time to think.
Reid ran. Peeled off on his motorcycle, gravel shooting behind him. Out on the coastal highway he went heavy on the throttle, barreling down the blacktop with a ferocious mechanical roar.
He couldn’t see them now, sitting astride, but beneath his legs were the dents Nireed made, a permanent reminder of how she trembled and quaked across his bike. Vulnerable, but entirely trusting herself to his care. Even while running from her, he missed her, wanted her, but he’d just been mentally and emotionally bulldozed.
Knowing that Nireed had eaten people? That was nothing new. The practice started somewhere. Whether it was The Merry Mariner, the sinking of The Osprey, or an earlier event didn’t really make a difference.
Context mattered. He knew that. And yet, he passed the turnoff to his favorite seaside picnic grove, driving on and on, his motorcycle’s roaring engine fueling his Pandora’s Box of feelings and resolving none of them.
A more stable version of himself would’ve called his therapist, but he was too afraid to admit that maybe Perez and Hatcher were right to ask him if he could handle Nireed’s past.
No matter how much he cared about her or admired her protective instincts or the sacrifices she made to atone for her people’s gravest sins, her history horrified him. And yet, there was nothing more terrifying than the things he still felt for her despite it all.
Teeth and claws were wicked sharp, and yet none cut as deep as the truth.
Nireed watched helplessly as Reid raced away on his motorcycle, her stomach queasy from the smell of his fear. Of all the things that came to light during their conversation, she hadn’t expected The Osprey’s demise to be the part that drove him away. Or maybe it was simply one truth too many.
There was a Surface Dweller saying about it, something about straws and camels, but she couldn’t for the life of her remember how it went. Not that it mattered. Reid was gone.
She waited an hour, then two, waiting to hear the motorcycle’s horrendously loud engine once again. Never would’ve thought she’d long for such an ear-splitting sound, but it was preferable to the agony building in her chest.
The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving her in darkness. The truth sank with it.
Reid was not coming back.
Eyes burning, she withdrew the waterproof journal from the pouch Reid kept it in, staring at the last entry.
Lorelei’s my sister.
Tears dripped onto the page.
It should’ve been happy news, a cause for celebration. Two people she cared about deeply were related, and had both gained a sibling in each other, but there was just so much ugliness wrapped up in it. Maybe if Reid hadn’t run from her, she could’ve told him more about his sister and focused on the joy.
Or maybe she wasn’t meant to have those things, and had been deluding herself all along, ensnared by her own desire to be loved.
Nireed began to write.
I’m sorry. For your mom. For the other people that were hurt and killed. For Lorelei’s crewmates. I’m sorry for everything.
I’ve only ever wanted to protect you, but I’ve made you fearful instead. You deserve to feel safe, including from me.
There was more she wanted to say. Namely, that she wanted a future with him, but she didn’t know if that was possible now, not while he feared her. Closing the journal, Nireed dropped it back inside its pouch. Maybe he’d read her message, maybe he wouldn’t, but it still needed to be said.
With a hard slap of her tail, Nireed shot away from the houseboat, furiously eating up the distance between land and home. As tears burned her eyes, heartbreak anchored heavy in her chest. No one person made up her entire world, but she had wanted Reid to be a part of it.
What a fool she’d been to ever think he’d see her as more than a monster.
Chapter
Twenty-Seven
“What’s going on, Reid? You’re not looking so hot.”
Perez sat across the booth, anxiously picking at a basket of French fries. She’d met him at a local diner chain, responding to his panicked text message, I think I fucked up. Or maybe, I’m fucked up.
“Don’t feel it either.” Shoving his hands into his hair, he tugged ruthlessly at the roots. “I’ve been thinking about what you and Hatcher said the other day. About Nireed.”
“We didn’t say those things to hurt you.” Perez pulled his hands away, shooting them a disapproving look, as if they’d committed the offense all on their own. “Or judge you.”