She was balanced on a ladder that looked like it had been abandoned sometime in the previous century, arms stretched overhead as she struggled to secure a tarp beneath a very obvious leak in the ceiling, like that one piece of fabric was somehow going to stop this place from turning into the second VHS tape ofTitanic.
“Kara,” I called out, my voice competing with the storm raging outside, and the second she turned, I realized I should have been far more subtle about my arrival. I doubted she expected to see anyone in here, let alone her massage therapist appearing out of nowhere inthe middle of a storm, so I shouldn’t have been surprised when she screamed again.
Though as I watched, as if it were happening in slow motion, I realized the scream wasn’t only directed at me. Her body jerked in shock, her balance faltering as the ladder shifted beneath her before it fully tipped, giving way as it began to fall sideways, taking her with it.
My tentacles moved before I could process it, snapping forward in a reflexive motion as the ladder collapsed beneath her. One wrapped around her waist, another braced her back, a third catching her legs, saving her from the impact she never reached as I held her suspended for a moment before lowering her safely to the ground.
And with that contact, I felt it ripple through my entire being, an unmistakable sensation that settled deep beneath my skin—fear.
It flooded through me instantly, almost painful in its intensity. With my tentacles wrapped around her, I absorbed as much of it as I could, instinctively pulling it from her in an attempt to steady her after what could have been a much worse fall.
I lowered her carefully back onto her feet, only then realizing I hadn’t said a single word. To be fair, neither had she, but something in the way her expression shifted told me she knew what had just happened, knew what my tentacles had taken from her as that calmness settled back over her features, smoothing them out as if the fear had never been there at all.
She blinked up at me, her breathing still uneven as damp strands of hair clung to her face. “Thank you,” she said, still recovering. Then, as the situation seemed to fully register, her expression shifted. “What are you doing here?”
“What amIdoing here?” I repeated flatly. “What areyoudoing here?”
She straightened slightly, clearly trying to regain some sense of control as she gestured vaguely upward. “Because it’s my home, and, well, the roof wasn’t as intact as I thought, and there was a leak, so I was trying to cover it with a tarp.”
I glanced at the ladder lying in a crumpled heap on the floor, then back at her, certain the judgment was written plainly across my face. My mind refused to let go of the image of her balanced on that unstable piece of metal, seconds away from crashing to the ground.
“That thing looks older than Crescent Cove. Why would you even consider climbing up that hunk of rust?”
“Hey,” she shot back, lifting her chin slightly, “it may be old, but it works.”
“No, it clearly doesn’t.”
“Well, itwasworking just fine until you showed up, unannounced, I might add, and startled me.”
The words had barely left her mouth when the tarp she had only half secured slipped loose entirely, falling to the floor. A second later, a heavy stream of water broke straight through the ceiling where it had been, pouring directly down... onto me.
Fucking perfect.
She let out a small laugh at my situation, and I exhaled slowly, pinching the bridge of my nose for a brief moment before letting my hand drop. “Working... right.”
Before she could argue any further, I moved past her, grabbing the collapsed ladder and hauling it upright again before climbing the steps with the tarp already in hand.
“What are you doing?”
“Fixing your mess and attaching the tarp,” I said, positioning myself beneath the leak. “Hold the ladder steady.”
“What?”
“The ladder,” I repeated. “You know, that thing that almost killed you. Hold it steady before I meet a similar fate, and I don’t believe sea sprites are known for sprouting extra limbs to catch people.”
She hesitated for half a second, clearly deciding whether to argue or simply let me climb the damn thing and trust my mortality, but after a moment, she finally obeyed.
Her hands gripped the base, grounding it just enough while my tentacles moved into place. They secured the tarp, suctioning it firmly against the ceiling, creating a temporary seal before I added strips of the ever-so-revolutionary duct tape she had left nearby, reinforcing each corner until it held.
It wasn’t permanent, but it would hold. For now, at least.
I climbed down, landing lightly as I let my gaze sweep through the cottage again, taking in the full extent of the damage now that the immediate problem had been handled.
“This place is uninhabitable,” I said, not even attempting to disguise my obvious judgment.
“It’s only been a few days,” she shot back quickly. “I’m making do with what I have. I told you, the project relaxes me, so there’s no need to rush it.”
“Or it kills you,” I countered. “If I hadn’t been here, you would have fallen off that ladder and cracked your skull open.”
