And then...I was leaving.
Grabbing hold of the safety rung around the bed, I gingerly lowered my legs to the floor. I didn’t leap down. I took my time, easing myself to standing while the world threatened to turn black on me again and my throat closed around fresh nausea.
Hissing between my teeth, I managed to stand. Barely.
The sink and its tap seemed a million miles away.
Fuck.
My chin tipped down as exhaustion clotted my mind.
My mouth was so dry. My head so heavy.
But I couldn’t fucking move because if I didn’t have something to hold on to, I’d fall.
Furious tears pricked. Exhausted rage-thick tears.
I’d never been so weak or so helpless. Never forced to see just how fragile I truly was. After eleven months of running from my uncle’s killers. Eleven months of stepping up to help my father protect our family. Eleven months of becoming a man and so stupidly believing I was strong enough to take on anything and anyone, I finally accepted I was nothing.
Nothing but a boy who could so easily be snuffed out.
Fuck, what a fool I am.
I’m so sorry. My grief swelled. So sorry I’m the reason you’re dead—
“What in the freaking seashells are you doing out of bed?”
My head whipped up, and I slashed at the tear rolling down my cheek. Everything stilled inside me as Neri marched toward me with tiny hands on dainty hips, and a peach sundress wafting around her lanky legs. “Are you that pig-headed that you don’t obey anyone or are you just stupid?”
I scowled. “Don’t call me stupid.”
“I can call you stupid if you’re doing stupid things, and right now—” She crossed her arms and looked me up and down. “You’re being stupid.”
I was suddenly very aware of my lack of clothing and the breeze running over my bare ass. With a wince and a groan, I hitched myself back onto the bed and breathed heavily. “I thought you and your parents had gone.”
“We did.” As quickly as she’d snapped at me, she grinned. Dropping her arms, she skipped to my side and sprang onto the bed, making it shudder. “We went home to change and grab supplies.”
“Supplies?”
“Yeah, you know like food and stuff.”
“Stuff?”
She plucked at the starchy bed sheets. “This isn’t very comfy. It’s all stiff and smelly.”
I couldn’t keep up with this girl. “You’re annoyed at the bed now?”
“I’m not annoyed.” She looked up, blowing strands of wavy, chocolatey hair out of her eyes.
Once again, I couldn’t look away.
Her eyes were unique. Too blue. Too bright. Too seeing.
“You okay?” she whispered, her voice so gentle and sweet it made me jolt with a wave of homesickness, heartache, and sorrow.
I knew I should look away.
I should probably move away.
But the longer she looked into me, the more I found myself in her, and I fucking drowned all over again.
She blinked.
The spell broke.
I shook my head and tried to speak. “I...I—” I coughed, clearing the scratch and dryness. “Please don’t ask me that. I never want to hear that word again.”
Her innocent forehead scrunched up before her eyes widened with understanding. “Okay. I promise not to say okay. Oops, I said okay to not saying okay. Darn, I said it again. Okay, I’ll stop now. I mean, crap—” She swatted her hand against her mouth, mumbling. “I’m done.”
A smile teased the corners of my lips.
It caught me by complete surprise.
I never thought I’d ever smile again, let alone be on the brink of a chuckle.
What sort of magic did this girl possess?
I sighed with all the weight of this new world I’d been thrust into. “Do you...do you think you could do me a favour?”
Her eyes lit up and her shoulders pinned back with importance. A silver chain around her neck glittered with a whale tail charm.
I caught myself wanting to touch it. To touch her. To ask her about her necklace and why she seemed so at home on the sea and why she could speak to a pod of dolphins and just who the hell was she.
But then I blinked again and forced myself to truly look at her.
To see the child she was.
A child who beamed with trust and newness and purity.
“Of course! I mean...it’s not like I didn’t do you a favour by saving your life or anything. After that big favour, everything else will be tiny.” She leaned forward, her nose wrinkling adorably. “Let me guess. You want...” Peering around the room, she tapped her lips with pink-painted fingernails. Her gaze fell on the sink in the corner. “Water! You want a drink. I always want a drink after swimming. Mum doesn’t believe me, but I reckon my skin soaks up the salt. I get ever so thirsty.”
Launching off the bed, she charged for the sink, grabbed a paper cup from a strange-looking holder beside it, and filled it.
I practically fell off the bed with desperation as she brought it to me.
I snatched it off her.
I poured it down my throat.
Two swallows and the meagre amount was gone.
I lost all concept of politeness. “More. A thousand times more.”
With a stern little look, she took back my empty cup and marched to the sink again. This time she filled it to the brim, sloshing precious water all over her hand as she crossed the distance and handed it to me warily.
I did my best not to snatch it from her this time, but it was difficult.
She didn’t wait for me to drink.
Running back to the sink, she looked around for something bigger and settled on the measuring jug one of the doctors had used to measure the plaster ingredients before wrapping my arm with bandages and smearing hot goo all over me.
My lips smacked together as she filled it.
So long.
It took so long for it to fill.
And when it was full, she struggled to carry it, clutching it tightly to her chest, dousing herself as she walked with utmost concentration across the ward.
I took it from her as if it was liquid gold.
I drank from it as if it contained holy water.
And only once the last droplet landed on my grateful tongue did I slowly lower the jug, wipe my mouth with the back of my non-cast hand, and look up. “How old are you?” I asked quietly.
She startled as if she hadn’t expected me to ask. With a tilt of her chin, she held out her arms for the empty jug. “Twelve. How old are you?”
Twelve?
“Sixteen,” I muttered. “I turn seventeen in December.”
“Wow, you’re old.” She placed the jug on the side table where a board of medical buttons and important-looking wires reminded us exactly where we were. “I mean, you’re like ancient. I should probably have let the sharks eat you. You’re so over the hill it’s not even funny.” Planting her hands on her hips again, she grinned. “You know what? My dad has a speargun. I’ll get him to put you out of your misery, okay? Ah shoot.” She smashed her hands over her lips again. “I did it again.”
This time, I did chuckle.
My belly was uncomfortably full from so much water and my heart kept bleeding for what I’d lost, but for the first time, the heaviness in my head had faded, and with it, some of the heaviness in my soul. “I’ll tell you what. You can use that word in any other context, as long as you’re not using it to ask how I am. Okay?” I smiled as I forced myself to use it. Forced myself to face a fear that I refused to bow to.