And this cabin I’d retreated to, feeling alone and friendless, despite being surrounded by people, I’m now walking to with the person who matters the most to me.
It’s still standing…
Almost.
Kind of.There are still walls.
Okay, one wall, the frame, and what used to be a door, but the “Minnow” sign is still there, with a view of the springs in the distance.
Everything during that time is such a hazy blur of what was real and what I told myself was fake. That crumbling history hits me as I stand face to face the imaginary friend who has become a very real crush.
His arms wrap around my waist as our lips meet, here at the edge of this crumbling campground—maybe this is where we build something new.
Chapter 18
Gil
This isn’t somewhere I was ever supposed to be.
On land, with her, but here in this campground of shambles, here we are, with her arms around my neck, her fingers curiously exploring my fins and the lines of my gills. The kiss breaks, and my forehead presses against hers.
“And you’re sure I’m not imagining you?”she asks in barely a whisper.
“Does this feel imaginary?” I pull her toward me by the waist. She reaches up, placing her hands on my fingers, then the webbing, tracing up and down before shaking her head.
“You feel like … a fish person,” she says, eyes crinkling. “So,yes.”
“Gillarian,” I correct her with a soft smile. “That’s what we’re called—and no, that’s not why my name is Gil.”
“Gillarian,” she repeats, with a nod, an intensity in her eyes as she studies me. “Is Gil short for something? Gil-fish, Gilligan, Gil—”
“—bert,” I finish. “Gilbert is my full name. But I’d rather you call me Gil.”
“Not Gale?” she teases.
“NotGale,” I reply with a playful sharp tone, giving her a squeeze. “Can I take you somewhere?” I ask, using my claws to toy with the bracelet on her wrist.
“Where do you want to go?” she asks, and this is it. This is the moment I’ve been waiting for, the reason I spent time gettingspecial supplies from my world. The thing I wasn’t able to do when we were young…
“Home,” I simply answer. “My home.”
She glances around the campground, with her brow furrowed. “Don’t you … live here?” She asks and—what?
Did she think I’ve been lurking in a defunct campground my whole life?
“My sweet, dear Splenda, where did you think I wanted to take you all those years ago?” I laugh, unable to keep the amusement out of my voice. First, she thought my name was Gale, and nowthis.
“Well, somewhere in the marsh, right? Like a town! Some place hidden under the surface?” she asks, biting her bottom lip as if there’s more she wants to ask, more she remembers that she’s not willing to say.
“Not quite,” I drawl. “It’s a little farther than that.”
“How much farther—like, states, countries?”
“More like realms, darlin’,” I say, remembering the way she’d listen to my stories about home with fascination.
She shakes her head, but her eyes are bright with possibilities. “Gil, I’m still getting used to the idea youexist.”
“But I do—it does.” With the pad of my thumb, I trace the bracelet on her wrist. “The charms are special—mixed in with those plastic pony beads are shells and pearls enchanted from my world. Not only will they grant you safe passage, but they’ll always lead you back to me.”
