Page 42 of Crashing Tides

My eyes just about bug out of my head. “No. No way. We barely even know each other.”

Officer Jones crosses his arms. “He just saw you fall, huh?” He doesn’t sound convinced.

I purse my lips and nod.

He sighs. “Fine. If your friend’s story checks out, you’re in the clear.”

That’s not exactly reassuring. I have no idea what Duncan is going to say to them. But I don’t have time to worry about that, because I’m getting to whisked to a room where they insist on giving me some fluids and checking me for a concussion. There’s a cut at my temple that requires stitches. I squirm through them and wish that they’d let Jane in the room with me.

By the time we get home, it’s nearly dawn.

I fall into bed and don’t wake up until after dark.

I spend two days lying in bed, watching the ceiling spin. I do, in fact, have a concussion, although I could’ve mistaken it for a migraine. Light hurts my eyes so badly that I thumbtack a sheet over the window and stuff a towel under the door. I hide under the blankets whenever Aleo has to turn on a lamp.

My head feels like a cracked egg. My face is bruised. I’m going to have a scar on my head like Frankenstein’s monster. I can’t deal with that, so I lay in bed and dehydrate.

On the second day, I receive a package. It turns out to be a new phone, courtesy of Gretchen, who was notified of my accident by the hospital.

It’s on her family’s plan. I start crying when I read this and have to assure Aleo that nothing’s actually wrong.

As punishment for my isolation, he hands me a new smutty romance, Tanya and the Seven Sexy Sirens, and informs me that I’m expected to play the role of Siren Number Three, Romero, at dinner tomorrow night. My head is killing me. Normally I wouldn’t even glance at something like this when I have actual homework that I’ve been neglecting, but I’m intrigued by the title. Sirens.

Am I… Am I a siren? The only person I feel safe asking is Duncan, and I have no way of contacting him until I’m well enough to go to class. And he didn’t know what I was, anyway, so I’m not sure why he’s the first person to come to mind. I hope he’s in better condition than I am, already back in class and caught up on his homework.

I’m not a siren, I decide an hour later. Not if this book is at all accurate. I didn’t sprout any wings, and while people do have a weird reaction to my singing voice (which is why I don’t sing), I’m pretty sure I couldn’t use it to force them to do my bidding. There must be a difference between sirens and merfolk, even if I’ve always heard the terms used interchangeably.

I make it down to dinner the next day. Aleo reminds me that I’m going to waste away if I don’t start eating and drinking again. “And you are absolutely not allowed to lift weights or use a Stairmaster until you get the all-clear from a doctor,” he snaps at me, which, fine. I can jog instead. Maybe if I take enough Tylenol, it won’t feel like my head is about to explode.

The next morning, I give Jane my new phone number (and maybe I texted Jeremy, too, just in case). “Glad to see you’re alive,” she says, only a little disgruntled.

“I owe you,” I say, but she shakes her head.

“I’m just glad you’re OK.” Then she glares at me and adds, “Don’t do it again.”

I barely survive class. I’m lucky it’s Friday, because I’m definitely not well enough to be here, but I can’t afford to take any more time off. The fluorescent lights make me feel like I’m going to throw up, but I’m already behind by an entire lifetime.

At the end of history class, it’s my turn to pass Duncan a slip of paper. It’s not much, just my new phone number and the word, Thanks, but he looks like I just handed him the keys to the kingdom, so I guess he doesn’t hate me.

I really want to sniff his hair.

After dinner, Jane pulls me away before I can start my new role as Sexy Siren Number Three, which is both a massive relief and also kind of disappointing, because a part of me was looking forward to seeing exactly how Aleo would handle the role of Tanya (April was tired of playing damsels in distress and would instead play Sexy Sirens Four-Seven). Very quickly, I’m wishing she’d left me to my fate, because her lips purse as soon as we’re alone, and I know I’m about to get the riot act.

Instead, she says, “So what happened after you fell?”

It’s a question I kind of answered at the hospital. If I shake my head and whine, she’ll let it go. But I want to tell her the truth. I won’t do anything to implicate Duncan, but I need someone to talk to. Someone who can keep a secret.

And Jane has been bracing for this. She hasn’t said it outright, but I know that she’s been trying to lead me to a certain conclusion for a long time. I’ve stubbornly avoided it, but I’m out of time.

She deserves to know.

I grimace, look around. We’re out on the main square, but most everyone else is at dinner.

My temple throbs. “Walk with me,” I say, and she gives a sharp nod, like she’s been expecting this.

“I hit my head,” I tell her, jabbing a finger at the bandage along my hairline. I make sure to speak too quickly for her to interrupt, because the last thing I want right now is pity. “And when I woke up, Duncan was trying to keep us afloat. He had this cut on his neck,” I gesture to my throat and Jane winces. “And he kept going in and out of consciousness, and I… I had to take over.” My voice is thick. I swallow and try to continue. “I, uh? My legs wouldn’t work.”

“Oh, Dominic,” she says, like she already knows, and I can’t help it; I start to cry a little bit.