Kara was standing in the waiting room, absently toying with one of Mina’s kitschy lamps on the reception desk—a ridiculous little seashell-shaped thing with tiny glowing pearls and painted coral curling around the base. She looked so damn beautiful, her hair curled witha flower tucked behind her ear. She wore pink heels and a matching dress covered in floral prints—flowers I couldn’t identify even if my life depended on it—but it didn’t matter, because she looked stunning.
She looked like some kind of pin-up model selling cars on a showroom floor, and hell, if she was, I probably would have owned fifty by now.
“Ready for dinner?” I called, leaning casually against the doorway. “Or would you like to continue fondling Mina’s questionable taste in décor?”
She turned so quickly I hadn’t realized I had startled her, nearly dropping the lamp. One of my tentacles shot out, catching it before it could hit the ground and placing it safely back on the desk. Though honestly, I couldn’t say I’d done it any favors—it might’ve been a blessing to let the ugly thing shatter—but Mina liked Kara, and I wasn’t about to risk turning them against each other over some tacky lamp.
“Thanks,” Kara said, adjusting it back into place like nothing had happened. “And yes, I’m starving.”
“Then let’s get going,” I replied, already moving to usher her toward the door. I locked up the shop behind us, falling into step beside her, my attention already drifting back to her in that way it always seemed to do.
WE WALKED THOUGH THEtown, something that had quietly become a routine for us. Kara had grown more comfortable being out in public, and though I hated to sound cocky about it, I knew that had something to do with me always being by her side. It was nice exploring Crescent Covein a way I hadn’t bothered to in quite some time, but now having someone to share the experience with made all the difference. Crescent Cove was your average small town in some ways, but with very un-average townsfolk, and it was almost endearing to see it all through Kara’s eyes. Things that might startle most humans, the small oddities woven into daily life here, only seemed to intrigue her more.
We frequented places like Mariner’s Market, where she insisted on trying every questionable sample offered to her and somehow loved all of them. Then there was The Driftwood Café, where she had developed a strange obsession with late-night pastries and had somehow convinced the owner to teach her how to make one from scratch. And then there was the little shell shop near the docks, where she had spent entirely too long debating which one “felt the most magical” before leaving with three, each apparently serving a different purpose.
We explored the quieter places too, like Pelican Pier at sunset, sipping coffee from the Catch & Release food cart while enjoying the sea breeze and the beautiful colors that painted the sky as the evening rolled in. When the sun would set and the moon rose high, she always insisted we explore the cove,my cove, that was beginning to becomeours.
It had always been the one place I went alone to drain the stress I had absorbed from a day’s work, but now I had the best company, someone who helped me find relief in other ways, ways that felt far more intoxicating and far more satisfying as everything in my life began to change.
Before Kara, my life had been simple. Predictable. A routine I had settled into without question. I helped the people of this town, took what they carried, drained it from them, released it into theocean, then returned home only to do it all again the next day. There had been purpose in it, but it had also been... solitary. Lonely in a way I had long since stopped acknowledging, because I had grown used to it.
But now? Now everything had shifted.
Now, I actually talked to people—not just my clients, but the people around town. The ones I had lived alongside for years without ever truly knowing. I found myself having real conversations, laughing—actually laughing—and even joining the Friday night Moonlight Market these past few weeks. I surrounded myself not only with Kara, but with everyone. Not because I had to, but because I wanted to.
Because of her.
Because Kara had this quiet, effortless way of pulling me into things I would have once avoided, changing my world without even realizing she was doing it. And somehow, I didn’t mind.
I ran a hand through my hair, tightening my ponytail as we approached the front of the restaurant, pulling the door open for her.
“Ah, such a gentleman,” she cooed as she stepped past me.
“Gentle now,” I said with a wink, leaning in just enough for her to hear me clearly. “But wait until I get rough later.”
A deep blush bloomed across her cheeks, and she bit her lower lip, trying—and failing—to hide her smile.
The place was quiet and quaint, traditional lanterns casting a soft glow over the tables while the faint scent of rice and sea salt lingered in the air. It was one of the few places in Crescent Cove that leaned heavily into my culture, something that always settled in me the moment Istepped inside.
She glanced down at the menu, then back up at me. “So, since you’re the Japanese food expert, what do you suggest? What’s good?”
“It’s all good,” I said simply, because it wasn’t a lie.
“You have to say that,” she teased.
“Well, it is my homeland,” I replied with a small shrug, like that was reason enough. Truthfully, I had never had a Japanese dish I didn’t enjoy, as long as it was made right. Sushi, especially, could be a hit or miss depending on who was preparing it. But here, they always got it right, and I was honestly surprised I hadn’t brought her here sooner. Then again, public appearances around town were still something she was easing into, but I had to say she had been doing a great job so far.
“Right,” she said, nodding like that was a perfectly acceptable answer. Then her tone softened just slightly. “Do you miss it?”
I considered that for a moment. “From time to time,” I admitted. “But I never trulyfitthere.”
“Do you feel like you fit here?”
“Well,” I said dryly, gesturing vaguely around us, “I’m surrounded by people with tentacles, gills, claws, or something else that sets them apart from the boringness of the ordinary. So yes, I’d say I fit in just fine here among my own kind.”
She gave me a look, her eyes dropping for a moment, and I didn’t need my tentacles on her to know exactly what she was thinking.
“That’s not what I meant,” I said, meeting her gaze, my voice softening. “We may be different, but believe me, Kara, you areextraordinary all on your own. And despite what I just said,youare the one who makes me feel more at home than anyone else. Right here, with you.”
