Page 57 of Bewitched By the Siren
I don’t know, and I probably never will. It’s not like I’m going to visit him in Savannah to find out, or anything.
I grip the shell pendant at my chest as thoughts of my stalker slip away and memories of Brendan drift in. I haven’t heard a word from him all week. He’s well and trulygone. Sadness floods through me at the idea of what might’ve been.
Brendan took the time to really get to know me last week, and I him. I really liked him, and I think he liked me, too. At least, the half of me I let him see.
Then, with a splash of sea water, he saw my other half in all its glory. And then he ran. I don’t blame him. I really don’t. But the hell of it all is that he obviously hasn’t told anyone what he saw. If he had…
Yeah. Things would be much different for me.
But his silence is a double-edged sword. Sure, it’s a wonderful relief that he’s kept my secret. I’ll be forever grateful. But at the same time, that silence proves I can trust him. That he could be part of my life, another person who knows the real meand cares for me in spite of it all. That because of him and his integrity, I wouldn’t face a future alone.
That’s what I lost when he drove away. A chance for a real friendship. A partnership. And someday, maybe even true love.
I blink back the tears welling in my eyes at the thought. I can lie to everyone else, but I can’t lie to myself. I was already well on my way to falling for Brendan, and his leaving broke my heart. I can try to deny it all I want. Try to convince myself that a week isn’t long enough to fall for someone.
But the fractures in my heart taunt me for lying whenever I try to convince myself of it.
I shake my head and blow out a long breath. Enough of this. The show must go on, right?
Sliding my hands up to the back of my neck, I unclasp my necklace as I rise from my chair. Balling the chain and pendant in my fist, I push the necklace into the front pocket of my jeans before adjusting the off-the-shoulder neckline of my slouchy sweater.
“Showtime,” I whisper to my reflection.
The crowd cheers as I exit the storage room, and their excitement dulls the razor-sharp edge of my nerves. Despite the deception and my guilt over using my siren song to earn tips, this truly is my happy place.
I hop up onto the stage with my band, grinning at the crowd as electricity zips through my veins. I greet the crowd, then recite my usual spiel about putting all their devices away. Once everyone complies, the band starts playing, and all my problems, fears, and regrets slip away for the next hour.
I sing through my whole playlist, and the crowd’s on fire tonight. The sparks set me ablaze, too, and by the time I’m done, adrenaline pulses through me. I thank the crowd, remind them to tip their waitresses, then escape the stage to the privacy of my dressing room.
I barely close the door behind me when there’s a knock from the other side. I tilt my head back and close my eyes. This happens sometimes, fans following me back here just to meet me and get a selfie or an autograph. I never let anyone take my picture, of course, but I also don’t like to be rude and ignore their efforts.
Taking a deep breath and pasting on a smile, I swing open the door, then freeze. I pair of familiar blue eyes greet mine above a smile that’s etched into my soul.
“Brendan,” I breathe.
“Can we talk?” he asks, and I nod before stepping aside so he can join me in the tiny room. Before I can speak a word, he adds, “Where is your necklace?”
My eyes widen––I’m sure to a comical degree––as I tug the chain from my pocket and hold it up between us. Somehow, Brendan has worked out exactly what the piece of jewelry is and what purpose it serves. Taking it from me, he motions for me to spin around. When I comply, he lifts my hair and drapes it over my shoulder before gently clasping the chain around my neck. I turn back around to face him, and he stares at the seashell for several long beats before lifting his gaze to meet mine.
“I’m so sorry I ran away.”
“I don’t blame you,” I whisper, my gaze dropping to the floor between us.
“I was just…in shock,” he whispers back, placing a knuckle beneath my chin and lifting until I meet his eyes.
“That’s understandable,” I say, then swallow thickly. “I wanted to tell you the truth.”
He shakes his head. “You barely knew me. That’s not something you share with someone you’ve only known for a few days.”
“But––”
“Hali,” he cuts in, “you have nothing to apologize for. Please, just let me get this out.”
“Okay,” I breathe.
“When I came here two weeks ago, my mission was simple. Watch your performance, get a recording for my boss, and if we agreed you were as good as we’d heard, get you to sign with the Bray Agency. That’s it.”
I nod without speaking, and his lips curl up into a ghost of a smile.
