I tear myself away from Gil’s arms to walk out to the dock. Gil mentioned that if I sit near the edge, there’s impressive cellsignal. It’s why his vampire-friend keeps coming by—to sit and scroll through dating sites.
I click on Aunt Andrea’s number before I lose my nerve, and the conversation goes just about how I expect it to.
Aunt Andrea isn’t buying that I have a stomach bug and has predictably driven past Grams’ apartment. She’s suspicious, and for once, that’s completely valid.
“I know you’re up to something.”
You wouldn’t believe me even if I told you.I smirk, looking down the dock at Gil, who is walking toward me with two mugs in his webbed hands. Clawrece wiggles underfoot. Soon, she’s leaped into my lap with her snoot pressed against my chin.
She’d be terrifying if she wasn’t so darn cute.
“I’ll be back next week—probably,” I say. I will go back home, I will, but I can’t keep the giggles out of my voice.
Who cares if my aunt, whose soul mission has been to keep me miserable, finds out that I’m not? I’m a realm away, and it’s not like she can do anything about it. I’m allowed to be happy. I’m allowed to be here, and I’m allowed to be with him.
Gil takes a seat next to me on the dock, our shoulders touching as Clawrece settles in next to me. Aunt Andrea is so silent, I think our connection might have dropped until I hear her click her tongue to the roof of her mouth. Tension builds in my shoulders.
“Just know that I’m holding onto extra baggage because of you. If you don’t come back, there’s no reason for me to keep it.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” I ask, knowing full well all my boxes are sitting in a corner at Grams’ place. Jenna made sure of that.
“Think about it,” she says, her voice as sharp and unyielding as ever. I shake my head at Gil, who’s giving me a worried look. This woman always finds a way to rattle me, and I’m not letting it happen today.
“Bye, Aunt Andrea,” I say, clicking “end” on the call and leaning back against Gil with a groan.
“You okay?” Gil’s voice is soft. He shakes out my shoulders, trying to release the tension.
“It was my aunt. I told her I wouldn’t be coming in to work. She always tries to be cryptic and ends up sounding like aReal Housewife, which is not a reference you understand.”
His fins droop as he shakes his head. “’Fraid not, darlin’. Can I ask something personal?” Gil asks. “I don’t want to offend you, but I can’t help but be curious.”
“What is it?”
“You work for your aunt’s shop, right?”
“Yeah, since I was 18.”
“Alright, so four years at this job you hate but felt obliged to stay at,” he says slowly as if puzzle pieces of my life are clicking together in front of him. “And you’ve been living with your aunt and cousin all this time.”
“I’ve tried to move out, but things with roommates, exes, it all fell through,” I admit. I pretend not to notice the way his pupils flare at the idea of me being with anyone else. “The rent Aunt Andrea charges is less than any of the apartments I’d be able to handle by myself, and everything affordable is a longer drive from Grams’ place. I don’t know. I’ve always felt like … furniture from an estate sale no one wanted. I just got stuck in a room, in a house, taking up space. An old chair that’s useful enough to keep around but not to admire. She finally kicked me to the curb this week.”
“Darlin’, you’re not an old chair. You don’t need fixing or patching up or to be put somewhere on display.” His hand comes up to stroke my cheek. “I meant it when I called you a hummingbird. You’re meant to fly, and move, and explore, and make a nest anywhere you choose.”
I gulp, glancing over his shoulder at the seashell-encrusted home. If I had to build a nest somewhere, I think I know where I’d choose. A place a fish and a bird can live together—right here on this dock.
“Hmm, but nests typically cost money,” I say, avoiding voicing my true thoughts. “And I don’t have a lot.”
“Would it be insensitive to ask if your parents left you anything?” he asks. “I’m not sure how things work in the mortal realm.”
I cringe. I don’t mind him asking, though there’s a vague feeling of being sized up. Like Gil is trying to see how well the puzzle pieces of our lives will really click together when push comes to shove.
What I’m about to tell him might ruin that.
“When I finally got control over my bank account, I wasn’t smart about it. I lived in so much comfort; I kept some, sure, but less than I realistically should have. Everything else I donated to music programs and libraries—things I wanted to support, things my parents would have supported, and then Aunt Andrea came to me with her proposal.”
“Her … proposal?” The fins on the side of Gil’s face ruffle at the same time his voice drops. If we’re getting serious, this is probably something we’re going to talk about sooner or later.
“The store wasn’t what I thought it was going to be,” I say. “She said it would be a tribute to the band, to my parents and uncle. But I was 18, and we’d been so rocky my whole life and… then this was my chance. So, I wrote a check and didn’t even think when my name wasn’t on the paperwork. As she started planning, and it all turned into such a mess. The small dedication to the band’s legacy turned into this weird cash grab that I’m ashamed to still work at.”
