Page 51 of Storm and Sea

Is this supposed to be…us?

He choked back a laugh, clamping a hand over his mouth. Nyel didn’t want to seem rude, but when he glanced over and saw Atreus grinning, they shared a moment of understanding. They broke into a fit of laughter. Atreus’s deep voice gained a light tenor. The sound was like the gentle ‘whoosh’ of sea foam lapping at the sand.

Then, as though the spell had broken, the light in Atreus’s face went dim. He turned away from them, his smile disappearing and his expression growing cold.

Don’t stop smiling like that.

Nyel wanted to coax that lightness to return.

“We better get going. Long walk home,” Atreus said.

“We aren’t staying at the Sleeping Whale?” Nyel asked, his voice pleading.

“No, we can’t keep intruding. I already told Giovanni that we’re going back to our place⁠—”

“Nope! You’re coming over for at least one more night,” Marina interjected.

“Marina, we can’t⁠—”

“Papà is already making a big dinner for us. You wouldn’t want him to waste all that food, would you?”

Nyel watched Atreus’s thoughts war in his head before his shoulders slumped. “Fine. But this is the last night.”

Marina fist-pumped the air, and Nyel couldn’t hide his delight. He didn’t want to sleep in the lighthouse again—that is… if he was still invited to stay with Atreus.

Or does he expect me to go home?

Nyel hadn’t given it much thought. There was so much for him to discover that the status of his permanence faded into the background. But now it was front and center. And the answer couldn’t be more obvious. Of course, Atreus wanted him gone. He’d made that clear from day one, and his coldness towards Nyel only solidified that fact.

I’m not going home. I can’t.

Even if Atreus kicked Nyel out, he’d find another way to stay in the human town. Because somehow, in the turn of a tide, Baia Vita had captured Nyel’s heart.

Nyel had never worked so hard in his life, nor had he been so happy. Sorting the stinky fish was hard work, and Atreus even let him on the docks to help with the nets after a while. His arms and shoulders hurt at the end of every day, and he felt the sun’s bite on the back of his neck.

He wouldn’t have it any other way.

They’re probably worried about me.

Nyel shook off the thought. Maybe his Mom shouldn’t have pushed him so hard then. Anger still bubbled in his chest every time he remembered the last dinner at home—the way Chel looked at him with hurt in her eyes. The insistence of all the adults in the room. The way they ignored him completely.

Sonia was on my side. She always is.

Now, true guilt ate away at Nyel, even more so when he recalled Sonia’s approaching due date. He promised to be there when the baby arrived.

“You alright, Nyel?” Marina asked.

“Oh yeah, sorry. Long day.”

“Papà’s famous Ossobuco alla Milanese will pep you right up.”

Between Marina’s puppy-eyed begging, Giovanni’s persistence, and Nyel’s quiet pleas, they eventually wore Atreus down and spent every night at the Sleeping Whale. Each night, he insisted it was the last time, and each night, they proved him wrong.

Nyel had already accrued a few meager possessions, which he stored in his room. Of course, he and Atreus paid a good portion of their wages for rent and food. Still, the arrangement nagged at Atreus. And for the life of him, Nyel couldn’t understand why.

Evenings were the best part of the day. The food was ten times better than anything he’d ever eaten (especially the items with sugar). The lively chatter at the table filled Nyel with buzzing synchronicity he’d never experienced, even with his own family. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d laughed and smiled so much over a meal.

Back home, meals were a time for his mother to grill him on responsibilities, for his father to avoid his gaze, and for his aunt to shoot him sympathetic looks. But here, around the circular table that rocked on uneven legs, the air was alive. He listened to Horace’s stories about the human war and, more particularly, about his Mer friend. Nyel was fascinated with the human perspective of their kind, even if nobody believed the old man.